The craziest rumor was that Jake and Harper were a thing. Best friend and brother, how cliché. One look at their heated glares revealed the truth: they tolerated each other, for my sake. A shared trauma experience had that effect, tethering people who wouldn't normally be friends. Why couldn't they get along? Neither was leaving my life. Harper and I went back to 'us against middle school' friends, and most days I wished I didn't know Jake. Direct insight into his mind wasn't an advantage. Nope, anticlimactic. The male teenage brain typically operated one thought at a time, with most priorities driven by hormones and ego. Before yet another reminder surfaced of Jake exercising his charisma while I was left with the leftover DNA scraps, a familiar group of jocks approached – his teammates and friends. "Ellie!" a loud voice called. I rolled my eyes at its owner. A tall, blonde-haired boy with broad shoulders flashed his green eyes and a dazzling, toothy smile at me that was so pristine white, it rivaled toothpaste ads. "Kieran," Harper groaned. "What do you want, Friendzone?" A tall, muscular body sat next to me. Kieran bumped my leg with his long, muscular equivalent and flashed his bright smile. "This is the year you go out with me, right?" His charming voice drawled and his arm slipped across my shoulders with a flash of vibrant red on his Santa Cruz varsity jacket. I couldn't tell the difference between 'Cardinal red' and regular red if my life depended on it. "Elle." I pushed off his meaty arm. "Not a chance." "The guys are right." Falling back, he pretended my shove pushed him over into the sand. "Jake's the more fun sibling." "Then go spend time with him," I deadpanned. Or anyone else. Please. Why does he do this? Is it a game to him? Every time I turn him down. And every time, he bounces back. "She's right. We gotta bounce." Jake tossed me his keys, which slipped through my fingers and landed on my towel. "I'll call you. It's on Harrison Street, easy to remember." "Lovely," I grumbled as Jake and his friends left in a herd of egos, insults, and bro fist bumps. They left us in silence, along with Harper's disapproving look, and I shook my head. Stupid boys. The crease between her eyebrows dissolved and she smiled. "At times like this, I remember the boy who peed his pants during the seventh-grade choir concert." Always her own perspective on things. "Oh, come on." She scoffed with her eyes on Jake's retreat and held her hands up in bear claws. "He shouldn't do that 'rawr, don't touch my sister, rawr!' shit." "He shouldn't, but you know why he's like that." Heat brightened the green streaks in her eyes, turning them a light aqua color. "Pfft, knowing why he's… him doesn't make it right." She was right; there was no excuse for angry rage no matter what its source, but I had to love that angry idiot. Anyone who witnessed what he did in our shared bathroom shower would hate him, but his shadow cast over school with that damn temper to flex his authority. Jake couldn't control others' reactions, in particular the endless fawning, but he didn't have to engage so much. Like whatever the hell that was back there. He wasn't the hot-headed, explosive guy he projected. He was better than that. His standing up for me was commendable, but there was no excuse for charging in fists first without the full picture. "No, it doesn't," I whispered. "Whatever the fuck that was," she murmured. "I think it's bigger than your tiny ass." I closed my eyes with a sigh. "I don't know who Jake threatened if that's what you're suggesting. I didn't look into his eyes or get a look at his face." In full disclosure, I also didn't know why my body pricked with awareness as he hovered over me from behind, but it didn't matter. All Jake's rivals were the same – stacks of muscles and an aura of arrogance from being their own biggest fan. "Other than sympathy for being on the receiving end of Jake's stupid anger and mortified for puking on him, I don't care, Harper." My plan was simple: study hard, ignore the whole student body's existence as it ignored mine, get into college, then get the hell out of Santa Cruz. Fly under the social radar, get in, get out. Easy peasy, stomach queasy. And life proceeded to my plan until today. The puking part was the… puke on the jock's toes. A threatened headache pounded between my eyes and my voice was weak. "Can we watch the sunset in peace?" She hummed an unconvinced sound and checked her phone. "Five minutes before the Boardwalk closes, then all the drunks and horny teenagers will be out. Which, if you want-" "Only the sunset, Harper." "Fine," she grumbled. A deep breath of warm, salty air rippled waves of calm through me. A breeze tugged a few long strands around my face, which I brushed behind my ears. "This part I like about the beach." "So exciting." Harper flopped onto her back and closed her eyes. "Watching the sunset with my best friend. Excuse me while I go drink myself to sleep." This was so much more of my scene. Quiet. Serene. Testosterone-free. I smiled at the repetitive crashes of the white crests against the aquamarine swells. "It's relaxing." Without Jake's brawn, I relied on my brain. And it was tired. In the silence, I wasn't forced to quip out a smart, sharp remark. The only interruption was the constant buzzes from my phone. I frowned at the beehive in my kangaroo pocket. Was it updating itself? "Relaxing and romantic," I murmured. "Romantic, sure." She sat up with a grunt, drew one knee to her chest, and pointed to beach couples snuggling on blankets or groping each other in combined effort strip searches. "Everyone here is making out or already pregnant." I ignored her sassy commentary. A calm sense of quiet settled in my brain and my body stilled as if I shut down with the sunset. The louder crash of the high tide waves washed a sense of peace over me.