I kiss him back, press my lips against his, and as his tongue slips into my mouth, my stomach lurches, and—wait.
Wait.
This is all wrong.
It takes all my strength for me to nudge him away, to stand and take a few steps back and catch my breath and wipe my mouth and shake my head. “Ethan, we can’t.”
Ethan blinks like he’s in a daze, still on the ground, shaking his head. “I thought you wanted this.”
“I do,” I say. “I did. I mean, I desperately do. I’ve been thinking about this forever.” I squeeze my eyes shut, barely able to comprehend that I’ve said the words out loud. “But not like this. Not when you’re five seconds out of a breakup with Lucy and not…” My throat is suddenly raw, like I’ve swallowed half the sand on the beach. “Not when I’m the consolation prize.”
Ethan sucks on the inside of his cheek, his head turned down to the sand. “Not what you thought it would be, I guess?”
“That’s not what I mean,” I say, panic rising in my throat. I messed this up—all of it—and yet I can’t seem to find a way out.
“Both you and Lucy, you project this idea of who I am onto me.”
“What are you—”
“I knew you had a crush on me.”
His words knock the wind out of me, and I want him to stop talking. I want to turn back time.
“It’s sweet, Millie. But you don’t know me. You don’tlikeme. You think you do based on some image you have of me in yourmind. But what if that’s not the real me?” Ethan drops his head into his hands, and his words morph into sobs.
“Idoknow you.”
“No, you don’t.” He looks up at me through tears, his eyes rimmed with red, his jaw tense in a way that makes me step back, move aside.
“That’s not fair,” I say.
“Yeah,” Ethan says. “Nothing that’s happened this summer is fair.Lifeisn’t fair.” He pushes himself to stand and drops his head back, looking up at the sky. An enormous dark cloud sails by, obscuring the moon and in a moment, we’re plunged into darkness, the stark shadows of the waves dancing behind him. “You’ll learn that when you grow up, Millie,” he says, his words piercing, and for a moment, I wonder if they’re a threat.
And then Ethan walks back to our homes, away from me and what we’ve done.
Frankie
I have to tell Lucy about Erica. About this note.
The threat looms over me.
Stop looking, Frankie, or someone will get hurt.
The piece of paper burns a hole in my pocket as I sit at the kitchen table with the rest of the family for breakfast. We’re all sitting in our usual spots, and the table is full of our favorites: a platter of bagels and smoked salmon; a small tub of scallion cream cheese; an enormous bowl of sliced strawberries; a glass pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice; and a plate piled high with sliced onions, cucumbers, and tomatoes. Everything is exactly as it always is. Everything is normal.
Except for the fact that Millie and Lucy haven’t said a word.
Instead, they’re moving pieces of food around on their plates, looking down or out the window and certainly not engaging with anyone else at the table.
“What’s going on?” I ask, hopingsomeonewill answer.
Dad perks up. “What do you mean, hon?”
“Everyone is obviously on edge, Frankie.” Mom sips her cup of coffee. “I was on the phone with Sally for hours last night. I’m surprised she hasn’t called this morning. They’re talking about bringingin a private detective. The utter incompetence of that Hampton woman.” She clucks her tongue.
“I mean you two,” I say, stabbing my fork in the air at Millie, then Lucy. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” they say in unison, and then the room goes quiet. Usually, these brunches are loud, each of us trying to talk over one another as we compete for the last spoonful of whitefish, the last half of an everything bagel. But today…nothing.
