Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven
Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven
Eben’s already sprinting toward the waves, surfboard tucked under his arm like he’s about to win the Olympics. “Last one in has to buy snow cones later!” he shouts over his shoulder.
Gemma groans. “Not fair, I didn’t even put sunscreen on yet!” Still, she drops her bag and kicks her sandals off, charging after him.
Josh sighs, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at his mouth. “Idiots.”
“Go,” I nudge him with my elbow. “You know you want to.”
He gives me a look but drops the cooler anyway, tearing off after them, his laugh catching in the wind.
Which leaves me standing there in the sand, towel in hand, with Gavin at my side.
The waves crash, kids scream and play, and our friends are already specks in the surf—but all I can feel is the way Gavin’s silence seems louder than everything else.
“You’re not going in?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He shrugs, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “I will. Just… not rushing.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, nodding. “Yeah. Me neither.”
We stand there, the space between us feeling both too wide and not wide enough. His board is under his arm, my towel clutched against my chest, and it’s like we’re waiting for the other to say something.
But before I can, Eben lets out a war cry and wipes out spectacularly, face-first into the water. Josh’s laugh bellows across the beach, Gemma clutching her stomach as she doubles over in the surf.
The sight makes me laugh too, breaking through the heavy fog I’d let settle around me. Gavin’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile, and when he finally lets it slip, it’s faint but real.
“You’re not gonna let them have all the fun, are you?” he asks, voice quieter, almost teasing.
“Maybe I like watching,” I shoot back, surprising even myself.
His eyes flick toward me at that, steady and unreadable, but there’s something in them that makes my pulse skip.
Before the moment can stretch too long, Eben comes barreling out of the water, dripping and wild-eyed. “Ari! Gavin! Get your boring butts in here before I drag you myself!”
I laugh again, and Gavin shakes his head like he’s annoyed, but I catch it—the way his shoulders ease, like he needed the interruption as much as I did.
Still, the words from earlier whisper in the back of my mind, clinging to me like sand to wet skin.
The sun burns higher, warming the sand until it stings under my feet. Eben’s already wiped out twice, Josh is showing off with Gemma cheering him on, and for a while it’s just laughter, splashing, and salt water clinging to our skin.
Eventually, I give in and wade into the surf. The waves shove me around instantly, tugging at my legs like they’re trying to drag me under.
“You look like you’re fighting the ocean,” Gavin’s voice comes from behind me.
I turn, squinting against the sun. He’s there with his board, water dripping down his shoulders, hair plastered back, calm as ever.
“I’m fine,” I insist, though I stumble when a wave crashes against me.
He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s what fine looks like?”
Before I can snap back, he steps closer, steadying me with a hand at my elbow. It’s nothing, just a touch, but my chest goes tight anyway.
“Relax,” he says low, like it’s only meant for me. “Let the water carry you. Don’t fight it so much.”
Easy for him to say. But I try. My shoulders loosen, and when the next wave rolls by, I don’t topple like before. He doesn’t let go right away though, and I don’t ask him to.
We drift like that for a moment, just… suspended between the noise of everyone else and the hush of the sea around us.
“Gavin?” My voice is tentative, but it slips out anyway.
“Mm?” His eyes stay on the horizon.
I swallow hard. “Earlier… in the kitchen. You asked me if I remembered last night.” My stomach flips as I push the words out. “What did you mean by that?”
That gets him. His gaze snaps to mine, unreadable but sharp. For a second, it feels like he’s going to answer, like the tide is finally about to break—
The ocean keeps tugging at me, but with Gavin’s steady hand on my elbow, I’m not flailing as badly. For a second, it feels like we’ve carved out a pocket of calm away from everyone else.
“Gavin?” I manage, my voice soft but shaky.
“Mm?” He doesn’t look at me right away, still watching the horizon.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Earlier… in the kitchen. You asked if I remembered last night.” My throat tightens. “What did you mean by that?”
That makes him glance at me, his gaze sharp, unreadable. The question hangs there, charged, like he’s actually about to answer—
“Gavin!”
The voice cuts across the waves, bright and insistent. I twist around, heart skipping, and there she is on the shore. Mara. One hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun, the other waving him over like he belongs to her.
The tension in Gavin shifts instantly. His jaw hardens, shoulders stiff, and the calmness he carried a moment ago drains out of him like the tide pulling back.
My chest twists. Of course.
I drop my eyes to the water, pretending to focus on the waves while he stands there silent, caught between me and the shoreline.
Whatever he was about to say is gone.
I freeze, my stomach sinking as I turn. Mara’s standing on the shoreline, her sundress whipping in the breeze, a wide smile plastered on her face. She waves like this is some kind of reunion scene in a movie.
Beside me, Gavin goes rigid. For a split second, I catch it — that flash of irritation in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches. But then, like flipping a switch, his whole expression changes. His mouth curves into an eas
y smile, his voice lifting, warm and practiced.