Page 6 of We Are Just Us

“I’m going to die,” Kieran whispered to them.

Hank gnawed on a back paw. Mabel let out an audible fart.

Kieran had exactly nine minutes and thirty seconds to pull himself together. In that frantic window of time, he managed to change his shirt, ultimately putting the first one back on because it looked the most “accidentally effortless.”

He briefly opened Google to type what do hot masculine men drink before slamming the tab shut in shame. He lit a candle to mask the distinct aroma of wet dog, and told himself to stop spiraling four separate times.

He finally leashed Mabel, hoping Hank would stay close without one. The older dog did, trotting reliably beside them as they made the short walk around the shared gravel driveway, Kieran’s heart hammering against his ribs as if he was heading toward a high-stakes second date with someone who didn’t even know they were on a first one.

Rory’s side of the duplex had a wide, weathered front porch that looked like it had hosted decades of late-night bonfires. The front door was propped wide open, the soft, analog sound of old Fleetwood Mac drifting out into the evening air.

Kieran hovered at the screen door for a second before stepping into the small kitchen. It was clean, sparse, and smelled incredibly good—citrus and some expensive cleaning spray with a label like Ocean & Sage. Surfboards leaned in the corners, books were piled unevenly on a low shelf, and a canvas hammock chair swung gently near the front window.

Through the back glass, he spotted Rory out on a covered wooden patio, barefoot, sipping a bottle of beer while adjusting a small Bluetooth speaker.

“Thought you ghosted me,” Rory called out when he heard the screen door click.

“No, no. I was just…negotiating with Hank about wearing a collar.”

Rory looked down at the dog, who immediately flopped in the dirt, all four paws in the air, completely surrendered to the universe. “Hardball type, huh?”

“The absolute worst.”

Rory snagged a fresh bottle of beer from the fridge, gesturing toward the shelves. “Help yourself to whatever. Got some other options in there too if you don’t want a blonde ale.”

Kieran grabbed the local beer, staring at the artistic, minimal label—artisanal and probably brewed by monks—and nodded as if he drank it every Tuesday. He followed Rory out to the patio, where Rory dropped into a wooden Adirondack chair, kicking his bare feet up onto a low stool. Kieran took the matching chair opposite him, holding the cold bottle tight to keep his hands from doing anything stupid.

“So,” Rory said, taking a slow sip. “You got family down here? Friends?”

“Nope. Just me and the dogs.”

Rory’s eyebrows lifted. “You moved all the way down here without knowing a soul?”

“Basically, yeah. See ya later, Sacramento.”

“That’s kind of bold.”

“Or incredibly dumb. I haven’t quite decided where the line is yet.”

Rory smiled faintly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What made you pick Encinitas?”

Kieran hesitated, his thumb scraping at the edge of the beer label. He could not say out loud that the ocean had been calling to him for reasons he couldn’t explain. That sounded insane.

“I don’t know,” he said instead, keeping his eyes on the fire pit between them. “I was…tired. Of a lot of things. I’ve always wanted to live by the water, and I figured if I didn’t actually make the jump now, I’d end up staying in my hometown until I fused to the pavement.”

Rory nodded slowly, accepting the answer without an ounce of judgment. “Yeah. That makes sense. Pretty pricey place to come find out, though.”

Kieran braced himself, waiting for the inevitable follow-up questions—the standard script of what do you do for work, why the sudden escape, did you leave a relationship behind?

But Rory didn’t press. He leaned back, entirely comfortable with the pause, stretching one arm out to scratch Mabel right behind the ears until her eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy.

“You grow up here?” Kieran asked, eager to turn the spotlight around.

“Pretty much. Left for a few years, but came back.”

“You love it that much?”

Rory was quiet for a moment, looking out past the yard toward the invisible horizon where the ocean sat in the dark. “I just like being near the water,” he said. “It makes sense of things. Even when nothing else does.”