“Just thinking,” I admit.
“About what?”
“About how weird it is,” I say slowly. “How one random day can end up mattering more than all the others.”
Cole turns his head toward me. “You think today’s one of those days?”
I meet his eyes. They catch the sunset, turning soft and silver.
“I don’t know,” I say, smiling a little. “But something tells me it is.”
Cole studies me for a long moment, like he’s trying to read what I mean between the words. The same feeling washes over me as we sit in comfortable silence.
“Yeah,” he says finally, voice quiet but sure. “Me too.”
The tide rolls in closer, foam curling around the rocks near our shoes. I pull my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them, and sneak a glance at him. He’s watching the horizon, windruffling his hair, sun slipping behind his shoulders like it’s setting just for him.
He doesn’t look like the same Cole I’ve always known—the loud one, the funny one, the one who my brothers talk about like he’s part of their world, not mine. Here, he seems… different. Softer. Realer, somehow.
“You ever think about leaving Cherry Falls?” he asks, still staring at the water.
“All the time,” I admit. “Not forever, just… long enough to see what’s past it.”
He smiles faintly. “Yeah. Same.” After a pause, “But I kinda like it here right now.”
That shouldn’t make my heart skip, but it does.
We sit there until the sun is almost gone, talking about everything and nothing—the weird old man who feeds the ducks at the pond, the way school feels too small, how the air smells different before it rains. He tells me about the time he and Asher tried to build a treehouse and ended up breaking two hammers and one window. I tell him about how I paint when I can’t sleep, how colors feel like a language sometimes.
Somewhere between the laughter and the quiet, something shifts.
Cole glances down at me, his expression softer now. “You’re not like other people here,” he says.
I roll my eyes a little. “That’s what everyone says before calling me weird.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “No. Not weird. Just… real.”
It’s such a simple word, but it hits somewhere deep. Because no one’s ever called me that before.
I look back out at the water, but I can feel him still watching me. My face is warm, and I’m sure he can tell. The sun’s gone now, but everything still glows—the sky, the water, him.
For a while, neither of us says anything. We just sit there, toes buried in the sand, waves licking closer with each minute. Then Cole shifts, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
“You cold?” he asks.
“Not really,” I whisper, but goosebumps rise on my arms anyway.
He chuckles softly. “You’re a bad liar, Sunshine.”
The nickname hits differently this time—gentler, like a secret he’s letting me in on. He pulls his hoodie over his head and tosses it toward me. “Here.”
I blink. “What about you?”
“I’ll survive,” he says easily. “Besides, you look like you need it more.”
I slide it on. It’s too big. The sleeves swallow my hands, the collar smells faintly of salt, lemon, mint, and a flower I can’t quite name. The fabric’s warm against my skin, but it’s not the hoodie that makes me feel it—it’s him.
Cole leans back again, eyes tracing the stars just beginning to peek through the sky. “You ever think about moments?” he asks suddenly.
