I turn to look into his eyes and what I see surprises me: part lust, part longing, part something else I can’t quite place. The silence between us changes texture—warmer, taut with something electric. And then, slowly, he leans in and kisses me.
It’s soft at first, exploratory. But when I kiss him back, something ignites. His hands move to my waist, sliding over the fabric of my dress, and I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. It’s not rushed, not desperate, but it’s hungry. Like we’re both suddenly starving for connection.
His hands roam—respectful, curious, and firm. He kisses like someone who listens.
And then?—
“Hey!”
We break apart, breathless.
A flashlight beam slices through the dark. A voice barks, “Off the beach!”
We scramble upright like guilty teenagers, and I realize it’s a cop. A young one, probably barely out of training, patrolling for curfew-breakers and high schoolers sneaking beers.
“Sorry!” Zachary calls out, “Didn’t realize it was off-limits this early.”
The cop waves us away. “Just move it along.”
I glance at Zachary. He’s laughing quietly, brushing sand off his pants. I can’t help but laugh, too.
We walk back toward the street, and the mood has shifted again—awkward now, a little dazed. Our shoulders brush, but neither of us reaches out. It’s like we’ve both been jolted out of a spell.
At the parking lot, we pause beside my car. “Well,” I say. “That was unexpectedly… eventful.”
Zachary grins. “Definitely not how I thought the night would end.”
“Me neither.”
We linger, both of us seemingly unsure what to do with the moment. He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. It’s gentle and slow and maybe even sweeter than the one before.
“Night, Maya.”
“Night, Zachary.”
I get in my car and wave to Zachary as I pull out of the parking lot. The evening didn’t go at all the way I expected. I didn’t get the forgettable night I’d planned, the anonymous escape from my body, my diagnosis, my thoughts. Instead, I got something quieter. Something sweet and memorable.
I feel seen—and not in a way that makes me want to disappear.
And that, honestly, is more terrifying than any hurricane.
Chapter Four
Maya
The soft glow of dawn barely pierces the thick curtains, a gentle reminder that another day has arrived. I stretch, my muscles protesting sweetly after a night spent tangled in blankets and, more importantly, tangled in thoughts of Zachary.
Twenty-seven days. That’s all I have left before the relentless machine of planning week at school grinds into motion, devouring my precious summer. I have a mental list of things I want to do: finish that complicated new knitting pattern, finally tackle the unruly mess that is my spice rack, maybe even attempt baking bread from scratch.
Today, though, feels different. Today feels like it should be dedicated to luxuriating in the afterglow of yesterday’s unexpected, exhilarating encounter. Just as I’m about to pull the covers over my head and commit to a day of blissful idleness, my phone buzzes. Then again. And again. It isn’t just one text, but a barrage, the rapid-fire notifications making my nightstand vibrate.
My eyes, still heavy with sleep, flicker to the screen. The Chronic Crafters group chat is going ballistic, a flurry ofexclamation points and urgent pleas. And then there are the messages from my teacher friends, all sounding equally frantic. Interspersed with the personal texts are multiple weather warnings, stark red banners flashing across my lock screen.
My brow furrows. Weather warnings? This must be the storm Zachary was talking about last night. I didn’t expect it this soon. A sense of unease prickles at the back of my neck. I toss the blankets aside, the imagined warmth of yesterday’s memory quickly dissipating. Padding to the window, I yank open the curtains.
My breath hitches. The sky isn’t just cloudy; it’s a swirling maelstrom of angry grays and bruised purples. The air outside seems thick, heavy with an unspoken threat. I tap open one of the weather alerts. Hurricane Esmeralda, it reads, now unexpectedly tracking much further north than anticipated, due to make landfall in our area tonight. My stomach drops. No one thought we would get hit this directly…or this soon. Now, it seems, everyone in town is scrambling, a collective panic setting in.
My phone buzzes again, a new message from Hannah in the crafters’ chat.
