Millie
I stretch my arms above my head until they shake, vibrating in my sockets.
It’s been over a week since they arrested Justin for assaulting an officer, and even though there’s still a shadow hanging over the Club, today was the first time since summer began that it felt like everyone in town descended on the Club, prepared to have an actual fun day.
Though I couldn’t help but notice all the whispers behind cupped hands as people let their eyes wander over the other faces at the Club, wondering, What do they know?
Now all I can think about is curling up under my duvet with the new romance novel I picked up at the Bonanza, especially before all of the Fourth of July festivities due to take place tomorrow.
I gather my bag from my staff locker and pull on my jean shorts and a T-shirt, then head to the bike rack.
I’m unlocking it when a voice lilts behind me.
“Wanna go for a drive?” Ethan asks.
He’s standing there with his hair sticking up straight, wet from the shower, his own bag hung over his shoulder. He uses his other hand to toss me his keys.
I catch them with my palm outstretched. I shake my head. “You’re gonna trust me with your jeep?”
“Sure, why not?” He flashes me a smile and nods to his car. “Come on. I need a distraction.”
That’s all it takes. Two little words. I need.
A few minutes later, I’m sitting in his car, moving his seat way up so I can reach the pedals.
I place my hands at ten and two, gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingers began to hurt.
In my periphery, he’s got a big goofy grin pasted across his face.
It’s the first time since Billy died that he looks a little carefree, like maybe everything really is going to be okay.
“Home?” I ask as we turn onto the main road. The cloying sweetness of summer is heavy in the air, but when I pick up speed, the afternoon breeze rushes through the car, sending the ends of my hair swirling around my face.
“Can we make a pit stop first?”
“Anywhere,” I say, and immediately regret how desperate it sounds, as if I admitted I would follow him to the ends of the earth.
“Keep going.” I drive a little farther down Pelican Island Road.
It’s a five-mile circle that loops around the whole island, with smaller streets shooting off it like spokes on a wheel.
I’ve biked or walked every inch of this island and know the roads by heart.
But being here in the car with only a few feet of space between us and all of Pelican Island out the windshield, the terrain looks new and foreign, like I have to focus on road signs to figure out where I’m going.
But it doesn’t matter because Ethan has a plan.
“Hang a left here,” Ethan says as we approach Great Dune Road.
I do as he says, my stomach buzzing with recognition of where he wants to go.
The concrete turns to loose gravel, then to dirt.
We bump up and down over the rough terrain, but inside the car is quiet; the only sounds come from seagulls circling overhead, the engine puttering as we drive under the shade of the willow trees.
At the end of the narrow path, we come upon a clearing, a small pond in the distance. We’ve all been coming here since were little, swimming with the frogs and tiny fish, our feet sinking into the squishy bottom.
Ethan yanks the car door open, and I follow him, neither one of us saying a word as we walk toward the clearing.
Ethan pulls off his shirt and drops it onto the pebbles, wading into the pond until he disappears beneath the surface.
When he pops up, farther into the water, he turns around and looks right at me, beckoning for me to follow.
My mind whirs, helpless in his presence. I should turn back. Or wait for him on the sand. Is it normal to spend all this time with your sister’s boyfriend? But just because we haven’t done this before doesn’t mean it’s wrong, doesn’t mean the apprehension in my gut means anything.
Ethan smiles and any hesitation evaporates into the thick humid air.
I pull my shirt over my head and tug down my cutoffs, revealing my lifeguarding bathing suit, still damp from my shift.
I’ve made these movements in front of Ethan a hundred times by now, but now that it’s just the two of us—no children laughing in the background at the Club, no siblings playing chicken in the pool—I wonder if it feels different to him, if he can sense that the world has tilted off-kilter and the only thing tethering me to the ground is sheer will, preventing me from blowing away.
There’s no way to tell because Ethan dunks his head underwater, disappearing.
I cut through the surface and swim to him, holding my breath as long as I can, until I come up for air and find Ethan so close to me that if I extend my legs all the way while treading, they might accidentally intertwine with his.
And for the briefest moment, they do, our ankles knocking against each other’s.
When I feel his bones against mine, it’s like a light switch flips inside my chest and I am illuminated from within.
The fresh water is bright and cool against my skin, so different than the Sound. I turn onto my back and flutter my feet, floating away. It’s safer like this, with distance. But Ethan comes closer, the water rippling around me.
I right myself and begin treading water, moving my arms in circles, catching bits of grass and blown leaves between my fingers. There’s a crease in Ethan’s forehead, like he’s worrying. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I say.
Ethan lets out a rush of air. “It’s hard to believe that.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and my chest aches. I want to wrap him in my arms and hug him so tightly that I can feel every rib.
“What will help?” I ask.
Ethan’s blue eyes are made even brighter by the crystal-clear water. “Nothing,” he says.
My throat is raw, and I shake my head. “You know that’s not true.”
Ethan’s lips part as the space between us becomes smaller and smaller, and my whole body buzzes, like if any other part of his body touches mine, I might never be able to get stand on dry land again.
“Ethan,” I say, though I have no plan for what follows that one word. A plea. A refusal. He inches closer to me, and our thighs bump underwater, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s possible for time to stop so I can be rooted to this very space and moment for the rest of my life.
But then there is a sound—a noise—the sputtering of a car driving up Great Dune Road and parking next to Ethan’s jeep, and he dives underwater, away from me, the cord that hung taut between us severed.
With that absence comes pain, sharp and bitter like teeth sinking into the flesh of my lip, but also relief. A momentary exhale. No line crossed. No betrayal realized.
Only a moment of connection, sweet and simple. Fleeting.
“Come on,” Ethan says, swimming to shore. “Let’s go back.”
I let Ethan wade out of the water first, and when I get to shore, I wrap myself in a towel. “Ready?” I ask. Ethan’s bent over his phone, the screen close to his face.
He looks up at me, shock on his face, and there’s a quickening in my chest.
“They found Justin’s DNA on Billy’s shirt.”