“Harwich Port. But we have pickup games in Dennis, if you’d like to come by.”
“Right. Cool.”
“Wanna play?” He gestures back to the few people waiting for him.
I hesitate for a beat, glancing back at Luke. His arm is still around that girl. It’s just them and a few of his teammates left at that fire. The party is starting to wind down.
“I’m actually retired,” I joke, hoping he doesn’t ask me to elaborate. Strength training is one thing, but playing volleyball since my diagnosis freaks me out.
“Oh, no worries. Maybe we can just…hang sometime?” he says, his blue eyes hopeful.
My stomach does a somersault. “Yeah,” I manage to say. “Sounds great.”
I hand him my phone. He adds in his info, sends himself a volleyball emoji, then hands it back.
“Okay, Sera Watkins. See you soon.” He grins, a dimple in each cheek, and passes a hand through his hair so I get a good look at the muscles on his arm. I can’t help but feel a small thrill as I head back up the beach to find Abbi.Something new,I think,check.
I find Abbi and Cam snuggled together at the first fire, which is burning low, the wood shimmering orange.
“Ready to go soon?” I ask, waving a small hi to Cam. His topknot bobs as he says hi back to me.
“Yep, I’m beat.” Abbi turns, plants a quick light kiss on Cam’s mouth, and then gracefully hops up.
“You didn’t want to go to Cam’s?” I ask as we climb up thedune. His aunt and uncle have a house in Barnstable with an apartment over the garage that’s all his for the next two months, which is cool and all, but his parents are visiting his mom’s family in Japan for the summer, and I still can’t believe he didn’t want to go.
“Not tonight,” she says, linking her arm through mine. “Always leave them wanting a little more.”
Unless you’re like Luke,I think.Then you just leave and move on to someone else.
“You have fun? Meet your goals?” Abbi asks.
I look up at the moon-bright sky dotted with stars, the clouds long cleared away. My phone pings in my pocket as we reach the peak of the dune and start to walk down the other side. It’s Jackson saying hi and sending me a pin for his volleyball game on Tuesday. I smile.
“Yeah, actually, I did.”
Chapter Four
Sera
Though normally I’m a morning person, I sleep until my alarm rings at nine. I turn it off and spend a few minutes scrolling through Instagram. Jackson followed me last night, and he’s already liked a couple of my painting posts. I follow him back and scroll through his profile. He plays lacrosse, and it looks like he’s going to Harvard. I’m careful not to like anything, but I watch his stories, which show him already out on a sailboat this morning in a crisp white shirt and expensive-looking sunglasses Abbi would probably be drooling over. I’ve never been sailing, though I’ve been out on the ocean plenty with Luke and his dad.
A breeze blows my gauzy white curtains into the room. There’s a layer of fog hiding the tops of the trees, and I hope it clears up before Maddy and I go to the beach later. I turn back to my phone and hit the like button on a time-lapse video from an artist I met at a Boston gallery earlier this year. Their work encouraged me to start painting portraits after alwayspreferring landscapes, and I take note that they’re going to be showing some work in P-town this summer.
Suddenly I’m craving pancakes. I pull on a pair of leggings and one of Mom’s old, oversized law school sweatshirts. Barefoot, I creep carefully down my secret staircase to the kitchen, only touching the stairs where they won’t creak too loudly, not sure if anyone is still sleeping.
The kitchen is part of the original house, so the ceiling is a little low, but it’s cozy and familiar. I dig the heavy iron griddle out from under the stove and get it warming. Then I pull the pancake mix from the pantry and check the freezer to see if Mom brought home any blueberries yesterday.
“Score.” I lift the giant bag out, and I’m just ladling the first pancake onto the over-buttered griddle when Mom comes in.
“Morning,” I say as she fusses with the coffeepot and I drop frozen blueberries onto the pancakes until I’m satisfied each one has enough. “Did Dad sleep in too?”
“Of course not. He’s out for a run.” She gets the coffee brewing and comes to peek over my shoulder. “Got enough blueberries?” she jokes as I put another handful in.
“Is there such a thing as too many?” I laugh, and she agrees.
Her phone pings. “Oh, you have a call with Dr.Lee at ten,” she reminds me, watching me peel turkey bacon from the package and lay it in a cold pan the way Maddy taught me.
“Yup, I know. It’s just a check-in.” Now that I’m eighteen, my parents don’t need to be in on my appointments, but they still set calendar reminders.
