Not even twelve hours later, I could hardly believe I was back in the same place, tainting the site of our perfect first kiss with what I feared was becoming my first heartbreak.
“Tell me it isn’t true, West,” I demanded, the shake in my voice barely detectable over the rumble of thunder in the distance. “That it…That I misheard, or something, and your dadwasn’t just telling my mom about his new job. About plans for your family to move back to Indianafor good.”
West wouldn’t even take his eyes off the dreary horizon to look at me. His throat bobbed on a heavy swallow, and I thought I saw the slightest tremble of his chin but decided I imagined it when he set his jaw in a firm line again. “It’s true, Cammie. We’re moving home, at least until I finish high school.”
A choked sob escaped me. “That’s…I don’t even…How long have you known?”
His silence was answer enough.
“So what was last night? That kiss?” I pushed a clump of wet curls back from my forehead, where they’d escaped the confines of my rain jacket hood. There was little point in the garment, in this kind of rain that was almost like standing in the path of a sprinkler. But I was grateful for it anyway, as it helped disguise the tears that were spilling down my cheeks at an alarming rate. “Or, like, everything between us these last few months? I thought we were…that we’d…I don’t know, be athingnow?”
It sounded so juvenile and silly when I said it out loud, and what I felt for him was anything but that. It couldn’t be anything but love—I was certain of it. Had I been fooling myself, believing he felt the same?
West finally managed to meet my gaze, and his eyes brimmed with so many emotions, I couldn’t name them all. But frustration was predominant in his voice when he said, “There’s been a lot going on that’s bigger than you and me, like my dads”—he shook his head to flick back the brown hairdripping water into his eyes under his own pointless hood—“they need this change. We all do. Some stability and normalcy for once. It’s what I want, too.”
My hands flew out to my sides. “Then why did you make me think you wanted me?”
His hands went to the top of his head as he started to pace in a slow circle. “I didn’t mean to—You’re my—” A low growl escaped through his clenched teeth before he collected himself and continued. “Whatever I made you think, I can’t do a relationship right now. Anything else that’s happened between us or anything more that happens in the future, it’s as friends only. That’s the only ‘thing’ I can be with you.”
The memory after that grew blurry. I knew that I’d pleaded with him to give us a chance, even willing to try long-distance, but he’d been insistent it had to be this way. I’d grown angrier the longer we stood there—not to mention soggier and colder—and by the end, there was a lot of me yelling and him silently taking it.
Then West had walked away. Days later, we hadn’t tried to talk again when he and his dads had left for the States. I’d expected he would snap out of whatever temporary personality transplant he’d undergone, regret being so cold, and try to reach out some number of days or weeks later. But after months of silence, I gave up that hope and deleted his number.
I blink rapidly, tipping my face toward the sunny blue sky above to remind myself where I am now, to keep any new tears from contributing to my saltwater facial this time. But the memories have effectively dampened my spirits.
Paolo announces that we’re approaching our next stop, the only place where we’ll get a chance to swim, and I join in the cheers from my fellow passengers, even while keeping my face turned toward the sea until I’m sure no sadness lingers there. I tell myself a dip in the cool blue waters is all I’ll need to reset and recenter on what’s important about today.
While Paolo drops anchor, I put all my energy toward readying to swim, whipping off my T-shirt and shorts, applying another layer of sunscreen to supplement this morning’s, and determinedly shutting out anything or anyone else on the boat. Then I turn around and am faced with an image I couldn’t shut out if my life depended on it, one that threatens my balance far more than the gently rolling waves below.
West Jacobs—shirtless.
Chapter Ten
West
Splash.
The loud, startling sound is followed by a few moments when the boat rocks aggressively back and forth, like someone gave it a push. Presumably the same someone who, I’d wager, just cannonballed into the sea.
I turn around from where I’ve been checking my phone for the first time since this morning, surprised to find a mass of soaked red curls springing back up from under the clear blue water—then bobbing along the surface as she paddles away from the rest of us.
“It’s a ten from the Italian judge,” Paolo calls out teasingly. I see her bright white smile in profile as she flashes it toward him, still swimming in the other direction. Something in my chest squeezes tighter with a mix of feelings. Worry that she’s already attached to this guy, when we have very little evidencethat he has anything to do with her life, that she’ll be heartbroken if this one isn’ttheone. Or worse, heartbroken if he is and still doesn’t want anything to do with her.
But there’s something else making the organ behind my ribs do funny things. Probably the fact that even though it’s been three years since we’ve had any sort of relationship, I’ve never met another girl whose smile affects me like Cammie’s does. She’s still so unbelievably beautiful.
I tear my gaze away, though it wants to linger on her freckled arms as they propel her forward, the long, tangled tresses floating behind her. Frustration creeps in as I look back at my phone, wishing I hadn’t given it a second look when I took it out of my pocket to stow it somewhere waterproof. But I did, and my friend Max’s name caught my eye, a text from him outside our group chat.
Max has already confirmed his plans to go to the same program I’m considering in Germany, and if I do go, we’ll be roommates. He knows I’m undecided and hasn’t pressured me to make the call faster, but he does occasionally send related messages, like a cool tourist experience someone recommended we try in Berlin, or something new he learned about the program that excites him.
Mostly, these just stress me out. He’s not saying “make your decisionnow, West! No big deal, it’s only your entire future hanging in the balance!” But my mind reacts as though he is. I fire off a single emoji in response to some Top 10 Biergartens listicle I didn’t read, just trying to get it off my mental to-do list. I doubt Max especially wants to be my roommate by now,as my responses get increasingly nonsensical in my effort to sound chill.
Case in point—“Dear god, West, why the smiling cowboy hat?” I whisper under my breath, trying to block the sun from my screen with one hand while the other scrambles to find the Unsend option. By the time I do, it’s too late to use it.
Read by Max P, it says under the blue text bubble. Maybe I should just “accidentally” drop this device overboard. But Max’s laugh reaction keeps me from doing so—for now—and I hurry to stuff it in the compartment under the bench before finishing my sunscreen application.
Once I do, I cross to the back of the boat where everyone but Cannonball Cam has descended into the water using a ladder. Before I start down it, I peer around in search of where Cammie swam off to—only to find her gaze stuck on me.
Even across a good distance, I can tell it’s not on my face, either. An uncontrollable smirk pulls at my lips, and if no one else were around, it’d be a great time to yell, “My eyes are up here.” But we aren’t alone, and wearestill pretending to be related because of my big, dumb mouth. So I keep my taunts in my head, alongside my absolute delight that I’m not the only one of us still attracted to the other, however unwillingly.
