“Hang a left here,” Ethan says as we approach Great Dune Road.
I do as he says, my stomach buzzing with recognition of where he wants to go. The concrete turns to loose gravel, then to dirt. We bump up and down over the rough terrain, but inside the car isquiet; the only sounds come from seagulls circling overhead, the engine puttering as we drive under the shade of the willow trees.
At the end of the narrow path, we come upon a clearing, a small pond in the distance. We’ve all been coming here since were little, swimming with the frogs and tiny fish, our feet sinking into the squishy bottom.
Ethan yanks the car door open, and I follow him, neither one of us saying a word as we walk toward the clearing. Ethan pulls off his shirt and drops it onto the pebbles, wading into the pond until he disappears beneath the surface. When he pops up, farther into the water, he turns around and looks right at me, beckoning for me to follow.
My mind whirs, helpless in his presence. I should turn back. Or wait for him on the sand. Is it normal to spend all this time with your sister’s boyfriend? But just because we haven’t done this before doesn’t mean it’s wrong, doesn’t mean the apprehension in my gut means anything.
Ethan smiles and any hesitation evaporates into the thick humid air. I pull my shirt over my head and tug down my cutoffs, revealing my lifeguarding bathing suit, still damp from my shift. I’ve made these movements in front of Ethan a hundred times by now, but now that it’s just the two of us—no children laughing in the background at the Club, no siblings playing chicken in the pool—I wonder if it feels different to him, if he can sense that the world has tilted off-kilter and the only thing tethering me to the ground is sheer will, preventing me from blowing away.
There’s no way to tell because Ethan dunks his head underwater, disappearing.
I cut through the surface and swim to him, holding my breathas long as I can, until I come up for air and find Ethan so close to me that if I extend my legs all the way while treading, they might accidentally intertwine with his. And for the briefest moment, they do, our ankles knocking against each other’s. When I feel his bones against mine, it’s like a light switch flips inside my chest and I am illuminated from within.
The fresh water is bright and cool against my skin, so different than the Sound. I turn onto my back and flutter my feet, floating away. It’s safer like this, with distance. But Ethan comes closer, the water rippling around me.
I right myself and begin treading water, moving my arms in circles, catching bits of grass and blown leaves between my fingers. There’s a crease in Ethan’s forehead, like he’s worrying. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I say.
Ethan lets out a rush of air. “It’s hard to believe that.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and my chest aches. I want to wrap him in my arms and hug him so tightly that I can feel every rib.
“What will help?” I ask.
Ethan’s blue eyes are made even brighter by the crystal-clear water. “Nothing,” he says.
My throat is raw, and I shake my head. “You know that’s not true.”
Ethan’s lips part as the space between us becomes smaller and smaller, and my whole body buzzes, like if any other part of his body touches mine, I might never be able to get stand on dry land again.
“Ethan,” I say, though I have no plan for what follows that one word. A plea. A refusal. He inches closer to me, and our thighs bump underwater, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s possible fortime to stop so I can be rooted to this very space and moment for the rest of my life.
But then there is a sound—a noise—the sputtering of a car driving up Great Dune Road and parking next to Ethan’s jeep, and he dives underwater, away from me, the cord that hung taut between us severed.
With that absence comes pain, sharp and bitter like teeth sinking into the flesh of my lip, but also relief. A momentary exhale. No line crossed. No betrayal realized.
Only a moment of connection, sweet and simple. Fleeting.
“Come on,” Ethan says, swimming to shore. “Let’s go back.”
I let Ethan wade out of the water first, and when I get to shore, I wrap myself in a towel. “Ready?” I ask. Ethan’s bent over his phone, the screen close to his face.
He looks up at me, shock on his face, and there’s a quickening in my chest.
“They found Justin’s DNA on Billy’s shirt.”
The Party
1:45 a.m.
Billy had never been hit in the face before, and holy shit, that fucking hurt. His back was pressed into the grass, and Justin was on top of him, wailing on him, a fist colliding with his side, his cheek, his shoulder. He’d talked shit to Justin before, but the kid never threw a punch at him like a goddamn mafioso. Who did he think he was?
As Justin pulled his arm back, Billy seized the moment and wiggled his way out from beneath Justin’s weight. Scrambling to his feet, Billy backed away.
“Aha!” Billy said, adrenaline pumping through him so intensely he barely felt drunk anymore. “Sucker!” But Justin was looking at him with eyes full of rage, his mouth forming a snarl, and the smile dropped from Billy’s face. “Dude, let’s—”
The wind left him swiftly, an elbow thrust into Billy’s stomach, and he wailed in pain. But instead of clutching his middle, he reached up to Justin’s neck and raked his fingernails against skin, eliciting a high-pitched wail. There was blood now, tiny red spots that trickled onto Billy’s white shirt.
“You asshole!” Justin’s fists slammed against Billy’s head, and Billy’s vision grew fuzzy, like someone was changing the channel on him, turning his brain on then off again. Justin spit on the ground, a bloody clot of saliva, then wiped his face with the back of his arm. He was onhis feet again, and then before Billy could get up, he felt a sharp pain in his back and realized it was Justin’s foot colliding with his spine.
