Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THEN
I ’ve never been one to make a New Year’s resolution. I find the whole idea of it to be nothing more than a personal setup, a way to let yourself down when said resolution falls by the wayside. I’ve watched my mother make one every year for my whole life—promises to herself that she’ll spend more time outside, more time with Annie and me. That she’ll finally get around to planning a family vacation to Florida or California or Hawaii.
But every year her promises grow cold, fading into the background of her busy life. Always forgotten. If she ever remembers to be disappointed, she doesn’t show it. But I know myself well enough to know that disappointment would run deep, so I avoid the whole thing altogether.
Jason, on the other hand, thinks resolutions are a chance to change what he gets out of the world around him. For instance, last year he’d made one to get laid more. Which, obviously with the logistics of his residence at Texas A&M and my big move to New York City to attend NYU, meant he inevitably didn’t get what he wanted.
But boy, did he try.
Don’t get me wrong, I like sex for exactly what it is—a means of mutual pleasure, an opportunity to share something personal and vulnerable with someone you love. But to Jason . . . I guess sometimes I feel like sex is a third party to our relationship, another entity to make considerations for and compromises with.
We all made our way home to Saddlebrook Falls over a week ago for Christmas break, and Jason and I still haven’t found an opportunity for some . . . alone time. The days seem to go by in a flash—Annie is twelve now, and we spend nearly every day cuddled together on the couch in our festive pajamas, watching holiday rom-coms and eating Mom’s famous Christmas cookies. She’s growing up so fast, and being away from her during these formative years is a constant ache that never settles.
Jason calls one night during our third viewing of The Family Stone , and Annie pauses it while I answer, jumping off the couch to make a new bag of popcorn.
“Hey you,” I say, smiling into the phone.
“Hey, babe.” His warm voice vibrates back. “What are you doing right now?”
“Watching a movie with Annie,” I say, eyes flicking to the TV screen.
He sighs. “Just curious if you could sneak away.” The way he says it, I know what he wants. And while I wouldn’t mind a spin in the back seat of his Mustang, we both know I’d never bail on Annie like that.
“Sorry,” I say. “Maybe tomorrow?”
He chuckles. “I’ll be in Foxborough with the boys. But, hey, do you have plans the night after?”
“New Year’s Eve?” I clarify.
“Yeah.”
I shake my head as if he can see me. “Nope!”
“I was thinking we could have a little camp out at the beach. With Wells?”
My heart does an involuntary flip. Camping at the beach? With Wells? For Jason to suggest this, it must be proof things are back to normal. Last summer, after I graduated and Jason and Wells finished their sophomore years at Texas A&M, things between the three of us felt better than they had the whole year prior. It almost felt like we were totally back to normal, but I still always felt an undercurrent of fear that Jason might interpret something between Wells and me as too friendly.
Thankfully, Wells also seemed to navigate carefully. I think we both understood that our pull-back from each other was a necessary sacrifice, a way to show Jason that he had nothing to worry about, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. All three of us spending the night together on the beach feels like the first clear indication that we might be back to how things used to be, and I’m thankful because I do care about my friendship with Wells, just like I know he cares about it, too.
“Oh,” I say excitedly. “That sounds perfect.”
I can hear his smile on the other end of the line. “Great. I’ll pick you up around five.”
Annie walks back into the room, a fresh bowl of popcorn in hand. “Sounds good,” I tell Jason. “Can’t wait. See you then!”
I hang up the phone and set it back on the coffee table, turning my attention to Annie. “ Sorry about that,” I say.
“Jason?” she asks, and I nod.
She smiles. “Are you going to marry him?”
I laugh, shrugging. “Do you think I should?”
“Mama says you will,” she says simply before reaching for the remote and pressing play.
I settle back into the couch next to her, but I’m distracted. Something about her words digs uncomfortably in my mind. Marrying Jason feels likely at this point—it’s something we always talk about as we discuss what life looks like after college. But I’m still wary of the collection of tiny cracks in our relationship, the proof that we may not be ready yet. That there might be some issues under the surface of us worth looking at a little more closely.
I only hope we figure it out before it’s too late.
Jason rings the doorbell just before five on New Year’s Eve. Barry answers the door and shakes his hand before my mother cuts in to hug him so tight he grunts out a laugh. I kiss Annie goodbye, promising to be home by lunch the next day, and join him out on the porch.
Wells’s truck is parked along the curb in front of the house, the two-toned white and red paint as familiar as my own front walkway. I didn’t expect to see him yet—but I suppose it makes sense that we’d all drive out to Scorpion Bay together. I make quick work of getting into the back, squeezing in next to two stacked coolers, bags of groceries, and camping supplies. I spot a tent bag on the floor and silently pray there’s more than one.
A thread of anxiety has been curling through me all morning in anticipation of this campout. It’s not that I’m not happy to see Wells—I am. But after going to bed last night with thoughts of this whole excursion at the forefront of my mind, I realized my anxiety around it is born from a place rooted in Jason’s insecurities, not from anything Wells or I have done wrong.
It helps relieve the small traces of guilt I’ve felt over this last year. But spending a night with Jason and Wells alone, camped out on a desolate beach with all the alcohol I’m sure is tucked into one or both of these coolers, feels like tempting a dragon.
Wells turns in his seat when I’m buckling myself in. “Hey,” he says with warmth in his eyes.
“Hi,” I say back. “Good to see you.”
I sound almost formal, and I hate it. But if Wells notices, he doesn’t show it. “You too,” he says before turning back around. “Ready?” his gaze jumps to Jason, who’s bouncing in his seat and adjusting the vents.
“Hell yeah!” Jason shouts, making me jump. Wells laughs and shifts the truck into drive.
It takes less than an hour to get to the wide-open bay, even less time to get our camp set up. I’m relieved to see two tents have made the trip, smoothing over some of the nerves still dancing in my chest.
For the most part, things feel like they were four years ago, when my world revolved around time spent with Jason and Wells. Jason seems relaxed and happy, and I can’t help laughing at Wells’s boy-like excitement at building a fire with nothing but his hands and any natural tools he finds in the tree-lined land just beyond the sand. Of course, he’s able to get a fire roaring with no problem, and Jason pulls out packages of hot dogs to roast.
All things considered, the evening starts without a hitch. Jason and Wells share stories from college and I find myself lost in them, leaning into each one with an eagerness that’s bloomed from how much I’ve missed them. How much I’ve missed this . They pass a bottle of whiskey back and forth as they banter, and I’m not sure when it happens but at some point, I become part of the passing order, taking pulls from the bottle and letting the warmth of it sink deep in my belly.
The air is brisk tonight, and Jason covers me beneath a heavy blanket. But between our laughter and the whiskey, there’s a contentment in my bones that the chill in the air couldn’t possibly touch.
It’s not until later, well after the sun has set and the crickets have started to chirp, well after I’ve gone from tipsy to drunk, that things begin to feel dangerous again.
What starts as an innocent drinking game of Never Have I Ever sours when Jason realizes that I’ve been living out my own college experience at NYU. When I take a swig of whiskey for having done a keg stand, he looks at me with confusion marring his otherwise happy expression. When I take another one for the time Chantal and I stripped naked with Leslie and Danielle and jumped in the Hudson River on a dare from Chantal’s boyfriend (who wasn’t present for the event itself), Jason’s face twists into an unexpected anger that knocks me back.
“What the fuck, Layla?” His blue eyes darken, hazy in the way they narrow on me.
Adrenaline shoots through me at the sheer venom in his tone—I know he’s been drinking a lot more than I have, and he’s always been a little unpredictable when he’s drunk. “What?” I ask gently. “It was with the girls—no one else was out there.”
Wells straightens in his chair on the other side of Jason, who scoffs and shakes his head. “All right,” he says after a beat. “You want to be some sort of bad girl?” He shoves the bottle of whiskey toward me. “Go ahead. Drink.”
“Jay,” Wells starts. But Jason ignores him. He just stares at me with a hard look, the bottle held out on the end of his long arm.
I know what he’s doing—even through my buzz, I can see his insecurities on display. Our relationship has been long-distance for two and a half years now, and it hasn’t been easy. But I’ve never given him a reason not to trust me, and I have every right to live my life in New York just like he’s living his in Texas.
So I take the bottle from his hands. And I take a drink.
“Layla,” Wells says, his tone careful.
This time, Jason turns to face him. “Leave her alone.”
Wells’s eyes flare. “She’s had a lot to drink.”
“So?” Jason retorts, his anger brewing. “Didn’t you hear? She does whatever she wants.”
I scoff. “Come on, Jason. That’s unfair.”
He sits back in his chair, turning his hard expression toward the dwindling fire.
My heart lurches and my mind spins—how did we go from laughing to this in a matter of minutes? I slide my gaze to Wells and find him thrumming with his own anger, and my stomach flips.
And then it flips again—and I realize I’m going to be sick.
I shoot out of my chair, knocking it over in the sand. Both Jason and Wells turn to look at me, wide-eyed, as I bolt for the ocean.
“Layla!” Jason shouts, but I ignore him. My stomach twists with a cramp, and my throat burns with acid.
I wonder if tomorrow, I’ll remember the sensation of the freezing sea lapping against my shins, my body hunched over as waves of nausea rolled through me. And how, for a fleeting moment as my stomach emptied into the foamy water, I imagined the tide taking me with it.