Jocelyn
Being alone doesn’t make you stronger.
—My Therapist
Why did Asher say that?
What is he doing?
I stumble through the crowded room, bumping wedding guests and murmuring apologies until I reach the hallway beyond. My feet don’t stop. They take me out to the pool, glowing blue in the fading evening light. At this time of day, the lounge chairs are mostly empty, but a cabana on the opposite side boasts several patrons. The palm trees above are black against the clear azure sky, shadowed and distant.
Past all that, a gate opens toward the beach, and my rope sandals fill with sand as I trudge along the seashell-strewn pathway.
The scent of the ocean permeates everything. Sand andsalt and something elusive. Indescribable. It whips down the beach with the wind, curls over the sand with each wave.
I kind of think you know I’d take more if you’d give it.
My eyes close and I fight the sink of each footstep, drawing ever closer to the receding tide. Closer to my greatest fear.
Why would he say that? I’m not capable of more, even if I wanted to give it. I’m like the small shells on this beach—pretty on the outside, fun to play with, but ultimately a fading vestige of something whole and alive. These shells were living creatures once, just like I was, and they succumbed to the inevitable, just like I have.
Death is inescapable, and the fewer people I love, the less I hurt.
If love is dangerous, then Asher Foley is lethal, just like this deceptively calm water. I can’t do it. I can’t be more than his friend. If I submit to this roiling storm inside me, I’ll drown. I’ll agonize over every missed phone call. Every traffic jam that keeps him late. Every unanswered text.
The logical side of me knows this is stupid. Some things are impossible to control, and Asher—he’s one of them. He already lives deep in my heart, behind the walls. He’s a life raft, yes, but I need him to stop dragging me into the deep end just to prove it.
I can’t—
I just can’t.
So what do I say to him? How do I go back into that wedding and unwalk the path he paved for us?
Reliving the conversation, I cover my face with my hands. I’m such a bitch. I ran out of that room like it was on fire. He’s probably sitting alone at our table while I try to convince myself I can’t love him.
Nothing is more believable than the lie you tell yourself.
Heart pounding, skin tingling, my feet carry me closer to the water, right to the edge. The gentle evening waves lap at the sand inches from my toes. Deceptive tranquility.
I’m close. So close. But I can’t take the last step. Fear has me frozen at the precipice, at the ocean’s edge.
But it doesn’t matter that I’m not brave. I won’t let this ruin us. I’m just wish fulfillment for him. Easy and comfortable. This rift between us is nothing that can’t be fixed with a little liquor and a frank conversation. We’ve talked through harder things than this. We’ll come out stronger.
It’ll be easy. A small slipup can’t undo the steel bonds between us.
One step away. Then another. The last hints of daylight fade from the horizon, and the ocean dims to black. I turn my back on it and return to the hotel.
When I reenter the reception, Asher is on the dance floor, laughing with Maxwell, and the Gordian knot inside me releases. See? He’s fine. He’s too much of a glass-half-full person to let someone like me shake his foundation.
I edge the perimeter of the room so I can watch without him noticing. The two of them slip into some cheesy, practiced dance, like the choreography from a boy band music video. A crowd forms around them, cheering them on, but I stay silent, watching Asher.
He’s a smooth dancer. I already knew that, of course, but the easy smile on his face now, the looseness of his limbs—they make me see how tense he’d been before.
Did I do that to him?
When they finish, the crowd explodes with applause, and Asher and Maxwell do that bro-hug thing. They make theirway to Cat’s table, chatting, and Asher pecks a kiss on Cat’s cheek before sitting.
I watch a while longer, then decide I’m a creepy coward and head that way.
