“If you say so,” I mutter, unconvinced.
“Plus, I could take a shark.” I snort, earning a grin. “I could! You just have to punch it right between the eyes.”
“Yeah, but that’safterit’s already nibbled your leg as a snack.”
Without warning, Wes halts his steps and pulls me against him. He leans down and kisses me. A short, sweet peck. “Hmm. On second thought, maybe youshouldbe worried about sharks since you taste so good. What is that?”
“Cherry ChapStick,” I tell him, my cheeks warming at the compliment.
He grins, pulling me closer. “I like it.”
He kisses me again, and I try to live in the moment. I try to enjoy him and us and the freedom this trip was supposed to offer. But with every second that passes, the things I can’t say threaten to suffocate me.
Tell him.
But what if the words are fatal?
You’re not going to believe me, but?—
Remember how I told you I?—
I don’t know how to tell you this, but?—
I can’t. It all feels too big now. Unmanageable. Impossible.
We start walking again, my hand still in his, but my heart feels heavier than before. Maybe because I’m starting to accept that I can’t say what I need to, and the longer I hold it inside the worse it will ruin us.
For the rest of the morning, some veiled emotion has me memorizing every look, touch, and kiss that I share with Wes. I tuck them all away, saving them for later, because I’m worried that there’s no way we’ll survive once I tell him the truth.
Hours pass before I put a name to the emotion.
Grief.
I’m already mourning the end.
Despite the chillin the air, our last day is spent on the beach. The boys play volleyball while the girls lounge in beach chairs with blankets, occasionally glancing up at the game. Malorie and Jamie chug hard seltzers and cheer every time one of the guys sheds a layer of clothing.
“Take it off!” Malorie giggles, a little tipsy, as Paul sheds his sweatshirt.
“The t-shirt, too!” goads Jamie.
“My nipples will freeze,” whines Paul.
Malorie snorts. “So?”
“God, you guys are horny,” Cory teases, but proceeds to take off his sweatshirt as well. Jamiewhoopsin delight.
I glance at Wes. He doesn’t have a sweatshirt to shed, but I’m grateful he’s at least kept his t-shirt on. I’m pretty sure Malorie and Jamie would start salivating if they saw him shirtless.
They begin the next set, and Ben bumps the ball up with his forearms, setting Wes up for a spike, which he executes with little effort. Ben, Wes, and Cory high five while Kaden, Paul, and Mason look pissed on the other side of the net. I clap a little for Wes, and then glance around for Chloe, wondering why she’s not out here with us.
“Have you seen Chloe?” I ask Malorie.
“Oh, she left earlier,” she tells me. “Something about a family emergency, I think.”
My brow creases. “Oh. Thanks.”
I look back down at my book, trying to relocate the paragraph I was just reading, but my mind keeps drifting to Chloe and her weird behavior this morning on the deck. Surely nothing happened last night to make her leave...right?
