Page 14 of We Are Just Us

“That’s them,” Kieran managed.

Meg reached out and playfully shoved Rory’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell me he was going through with the lesson.”

Rory caught her hand briefly before she pulled it back, the gesture easy and familiar. “Didn’t think it was newsworthy.”

“Everything you don’t tell me is newsworthy.” She rolled her eyes affectionately, then looked back at Kieran. “Good luck out here. First day’s always brutal.”

“Thanks,” Kieran said, his voice sounding far away in his own ears.

Meg was already turning, paddling back out. “Rory, seriously—now. We’re gonna miss it.”

“I’m right behind you,” Rory called, already following. He glanced back at Kieran once. Quick, casual. “You got this.”

Then he was gone.

Kieran watched them paddle out together as Meg said something that made Rory laugh, his head tipping back. She splashed him, and he splashed her back, and they moved through the water like two people who’d done this together a hundred times. Who had their own rhythm. Their own language.

Of course he has a girlfriend. Of course she’s gorgeous and capable and makes him laugh like that.

He tried to focus on his board, on the instructor’s distant voice, on anything other than the way Rory’s whole demeanor had changed the second Meg appeared.

Kieran took a stray wave directly to the chest and came up choking.

Of fucking course.

FIVE

Kieran had been in Encinitas for almost six weeks, and he still hadn’t properly explored San Diego.

Living this close to a city he’d only ever seen in pictures seemed like a missed opportunity. So on Thursday morning, he dropped Hank and Mabel at a boarding center in Carlsbad, receiving identical looks of betrayal from both in exchange.

Then he drove to the Park & Go near the Solana Beach station and hopped on the COASTER.

The commuter train rattled south along the coast, hugging the bluffs. Ocean on one side, suburbs on the other. Kieran pressed his forehead against the window and watched the scenery shift from beach towns to urban sprawl.

He’d booked a hotel downtown for two nights. Nothing fancy, just a mid-range chain with a decent review score and a rooftop bar. The kind of place where you could be anonymous and comfortable at the same time.

It wasn’t running away.

It was exploring. Seeing what else was out here. Reminding himself that his world didn’t have to shrink because he’d moved somewhere new.

On Thursday afternoon, he went to the zoo.

It was an absurd choice, crowded and loud, but he wanted the full San Diego experience. He wandered longer than he meant to, pausing in front of the polar bears. They paced back and forth with surprising focus, big bodies in contained spaces, moving because the space allowed it.

He took photos. Of the giraffes. Of the sky through the eucalyptus trees. Proof-of-life documentation he knew he’d never post but liked having.

There was a moment where he watched a woman argue with a zoo employee about whether her emotional support peacock could enter the petting zoo area. The peacock, resplendent and seemingly unbothered, stood beside her like it had done this before.

“Ma’am, it’s a health code violation.”

“He’s certified. I have the paperwork!”

“It’s still a peacock.”

The peacock spread its tail feathers as if making a closing argument.

Kieran wasn’t sure who won, but when he left ten minutes later, the peacock was inside the gates, and the employee looked defeated.