He stopped.
“If I write my own story,” I whispered, “you don’t get to decide you’re not allowed in it.”
For a second, he didn’t move.
Then his mouth curved, but it was the saddest smile I had ever seen.
“No,” he said softly. “I guess I don’t.”
Then he disappeared down the beach path, quiet as a ghost.
I stood behind the palm tree until the night settled again.
Until my breathing slowed.
Until I could hear the waves instead of my own heart.
When I finally made it to the outdoor shower, I turned the water on and stepped beneath it, bracelet still on my wrist because I couldn’t make myself take it off yet.
The water ran over salt, sunscreen, and tears.
I lifted my hand and watched the mother-of-pearl catch the lantern light.
For most of my life, gifts had felt like debts.
Tonight, they felt like pieces of a future trying to find me.
Diamonds from a ring Tarak had once given my mother.
Turquoise from the hand she used to wear it on.
Mother-of-pearl from a man who had found me in the fire and was trying so hard not to burn me with the way he cared.
I pressed my wet fingers to the cuff and closed my eyes.
Eighteen.
Blank pages.
My own story.
And somewhere in the margins, whether Dylan liked it or not, his name had already been written.
I stuffed the pillows beneath the covers, shaping them into the curve of a sleeping girl, then slipped out into the warm Mexican night wearing nothing but the black bikini I’d bought on a whim and the delicate silver bracelet on my wrist. It was handmade in Mexico—simple, elegant, with one perfect pearl inlaid like a secret. He’d fastened it there three nights ago on my birthday, his rough thumbs brushing my skin as he told me he was leaving.
I couldn’t let him go without this.
The ocean was dark silk under a fat silver moon. I waded in until the water reached my waist, then dove, letting the cool salt close over my head. When I surfaced, he was already there—standing at the edge of the surf like he’d been waiting for me all along.
“Destiny.” His voice was low, strained. “Go back inside.”
I walked toward him through the shallows instead. “It’s my last night.”
“And it’s mine too. That’s exactly why you need to turn around.”
I stopped in front of him. Water streamed down my body. His eyes followed every droplet before he forced them back to my face.
“You’ve been avoiding me since you gave me this,” I said softly, lifting my wrist so the pearl caught the moonlight.
