Chapter Fourteen | Sand-Stuck
The tide had started pulling back as the sun began its slow descent, stretching long shadows across the sand. I felt it in my body—the way time slipped when he was around. Everything else always paused.
We waded out together in silence, dripping and flushed, the sea clinging to our skin like it didn’t want to let us go.
He offered me a towel first without saying anything. I didn’t thank him. I didn’t need to. That was our language—moments exchanged without words. Always had been.
I sat on the towel and began drying my arms, brushing sand from my legs. The beach was emptying now, families packing up, couples walking toward their cars hand in hand. I watched them. Wondered if anyone saw us the same way. If we looked like something unfinished. Untouched.
He shook his hair out like a dog, droplets landing on my arm.
“Gross!” I laughed, swatting at him.
“You’ll survive.”
I stared at him for a second, towel wrapped around my chest like armor. “You know you smile more around me than anyone else?”
He looked at me, serious for a moment, then smirked. “You noticing that?”
I shrugged. “I notice everything.”
He didn’t argue. Just dropped into the sand beside me, stretching his legs, elbows braced behind him. For a long time, we didn’t speak. Just watched the last light of the day turn gold and lazy across the water.
My body was warm from the sun, cool from the sea, and buzzed from being near him.
“I like it here,” he finally said.
“The beach?”
“No. This.” He nodded toward the space between us. “You. This.”
My heart did that thing—slowed down and sped up all at once. It was that spec of vulnerability that he always said he never had.
“You’ll be gone again tomorrow,” I said quietly.
“I know.”
“Then what’s the point of saying that?”
He turned his head to look at me. “Maybe it just feels good to say it.”
I nodded, blinking back something soft in my chest. “You’re not staying tonight, are you?”
“I haven’t decided.”
I laughed, tired. “You always decide. You just wait until the last second to admit it.”
He didn’t deny it.
We packed up slowly. I tried not to look at him too much as he shook sand from the towels and threw our stuff into the back of the car. Tried not to read into how gently he buckled my beach bag. How familiar it felt, having him handle my things.
The drive back was quieter than the one there.
The sun dipped below the horizon as the sky bled from orange to indigo. I rested my head against the passenger window, letting the salt dry sticky on my skin. He glanced at me a few times, but neither of us said anything.
When we pulled into the hotel parking lot, the engine idled for a beat longer than it needed to.
“Coming up?” he asked.
A question with five meanings.
I turned my head, eyes still soft from the ocean air.
“Do you want me to?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just reached for the keys in the ignition, let his hand linger.
“Yeah,” he said.
Just that.
And something in my chest cracked open a little.
