Page 89 of Hearts on the Line

She rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

I lean forward in my chair, then tug on the hem of her sundress until she bends forward. My fingers sweep across the freckles above her kneecap.

“I can be lots of fun if you give me a chance.”

She peeks around, as if to see if anyone is watching. Of course they are. In fact, June looks like she’s about to pop some popcorn. Jack interrupts instead, shutting off the TV.

“Ladies, I think it’s time for the roommates to leave. Both are devout workaholics and have very important jobs to do tomorrow.”

Sloane spins around and sticks her tongue out at my brother.

We make our goodbyes and are about to head to the car before Sloane turns and runs for the path down to the beach.

“Come here,” she whispers. The breeze flutters in her hair, and she’s barefoot, slipping into the soft sand. Once I follow, she runs ahead, spinning over the damp sand. I stuff my hands in my pockets, watching.

I blow out a big breath, trying my best to push past the ache in my chest.

The tide’s running out, pulling white foam back into the dark water. It’s dusk still, the night not washed in black yet, but it’ll fall soon. Moonlight begins hitting the shallow tide pools. It’s the kind of night that makes August feel like it’ll stretch on forever.

Except it’s not.

Sloane walks barefoot beside me. Every few steps, the wind grabs a strand of her hair and throws it across her cheek, and I have to fight the urge to tuck it back into place.

We’re on the stretch between her old place and my parents’ house. We’ve walked it a hundred times before, back when it seemed easier. We had big plans, Sloane and me. And maybe it was just unguarded hope, but even when my world was upside down and I was trying to make heads or tails of losing my grandfather, Sloane was there, cheering me on.

I fought for her. Fought for myself so she would be proud.

Our first kiss was on this beach. From here, I can still see the outline of her house along the shore, the bedroom window I climbed through that summer.

Her room was covered in pink. I’d crawl into her bed and kiss her for hours, lay my heart out. I remember holding her after our first time, talking about what our apartment would look like when she moved to Boston after graduation the next year.

There was hope then.

The past few weeks have been the best of my life. And the fucking saddest. It’s just been one long goodbye. I can’t believe I lied to myself, thinking sleeping with her would be the quickest way to forget her.

There is no chance of forgetting Sloane.

I’ve been avoiding her eyes, staring at the water instead, because I’m not sure I can look at her without sharing everything I’ve been holding back.

“You’ve been weird all day,” she says finally, reaching out to touch my arm.

I keep my eyes ahead. “Weird?”

“Yeah, more than grumpy. You’ve been restless.” She bumps against my shoulder, but I pull back. “If you’re going to shut me out again, at least tell me why before you disappear.”

The cove curves in ahead of us, and beyond, the first burst of light sweeps over us from the lighthouse in the distance, the deep-blue sky fading to near black now. The same view I had inked over my ribs. The one I kept like a talisman, a punishment, and a prayer all at once.

“I’m not disappearing,” I lie.

“Yeah. You are.”

That lands like a slap.

“You’ve been disappearing since you kissed me this afternoon. Earlier maybe. Last week after we watched that movie on the couch, and we fell asleep together. I woke up and knew you were shutting me out.”

I stop for half a second, my chest tight, then keep walking. “You think this is easy for me? Pretending like—” I cut myself off before I say too much.

“Like what?” she presses.