Chapter 6
My Best… Everything
They’d been here, swallowed whole by the warmth and the wild beauty of the Philippines, for what felt like a lifetime or maybe just a breath.
About three weeks had passed, but the days here were ever-rolling, never-ending.
Each one bled into the next, seamless and fluid.
Every sunrise brought a new shore, a new stretch of sand beneath their feet, a new horizon to chase.
Together, they surfed the Pacific’s embrace—riding her swells, carving her curls—like travelers who had forgotten the art of standing still.
The islands were a labyrinth of saltwater and sun, and yet, despite the endless beauty of it all, it was the presence of Adrian that had become the most intoxicating part of it.
This was the third hotel they’d shared since landing in this paradise.
There was no logic, no need to take two rooms, a room was just a place to breathe, to rest, and to hold their belongings, most of them scattered carelessly around, mainly Logan’s fault and Adrian’s inability to keep picking up after him, like pieces of a life half-lived, a life that wasn’t quite real.
Logan finished his shower with the careful precision of someone trying to avoid thinking.
The hot water had been a balm on his sun-kissed skin, which still carried the memory of the ocean’s salt on it.
His face was flushed, cheeks a warm shade of bronze from the sun.
His sandy blond hair, a shade or so lighter than when he first got to Hawaii, clung to his scalp in wet, unruly strands.
He stood for a moment in front of the mirror, eyes tracing the stubble along his jawline, the whisper of a beard starting to grow in. There was a silence, thick and pressing, but it was his own voice in his head that thundered the loudest.
What are you doing? His eyes flicked to the small lifesaver bracelet still wrapped around his wrist, silver catching the light from the bathroom window. It gleamed like a distant star, always present, always pulling him toward something he couldn’t quite reach.
With deliberate movements, he picked up the razor, his fingers brushing against the worn handle.
The metal felt cold against his skin as he traced the blade along his jaw.
Each stroke felt like an effort, like something he needed to do, something that gave him control over the chaos of his thoughts.
When the last of the stubble was gone, he tugged on boxer briefs and sweatpants, the fabric soft against his skin. He wanted to hurry, wanted to escape the quiet that hummed in his chest, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
As he stepped into the room, he saw Adrian, sprawled lazily on one of the chairs by the window, his body a sculpted work of sun and muscle, tanned skin glowing in the soft light that spilled through the curtains.
He was talking on the phone, his voice carrying that strange, foreign cadence—words and sounds Logan couldn’t quite grasp, but that filled the space with a rhythm all their own.
It was that rhythm, that lilting tone, that unsettled Logan in a way he couldn’t explain.
Just Adrian, he told himself. But it wasn’t just Adrian, was it? Nothing here was just anything. The air between them felt thick with something that buzzed, something that hummed, something that grew in the silent spaces between their breaths.
Logan tried to ignore the pull of it—the way Adrian’s broad shoulders moved and rippled with each movement, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin like currents in the deep sea.
But the more he tried, the more it seeped in.
Every little thing about Adrian, his quiet strength, the way his eyes caught the light, his kind smile, tugged at Logan’s resolve.
Shaking himself, Logan grabbed his phone, needing to ground himself in something familiar.
It was a habit now, to check in with his mom every few days, to send a text and remind her that he was okay, that he was still out there in the world, doing the thing he loved.
He typed her a quick message, then added one for Ann, his younger sister, the words light with affection, a smile creeping onto his face.
His mom replied almost instantly, as if she were holding the phone, constantly waiting for the moment Logan would reach out.
I miss you so much. Are you really spending all this time by yourself? Please stay safe. I love you, and we’re waiting for you back home. Dad misses you too.
He doubted that his dad missed him. Waiting for him?
That’s for sure, but his dad didn’t miss him.
His mom’s message hit him with a sharper shame than guilt, a reminder of how little he’d told either of them about this trip.
He hadn’t told them about the journey they were on, hadn’t shared the mornings when the sun rose like fire over the waves, or the nights when the ocean whispered lullabies.
He hadn’t shared how Adrian’s presence, quiet and constant, had begun to settle in the spaces between his thoughts, like the moon pulling the tide.
Logan swallowed, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he fought the wave of emotions rising inside him.
I miss you too. I’m doing okay. Don’t worry, I’m being safe. I love you.
Logan swiped over to his chat with Jane, watching the stream of her messages pass by, each one more disconnected than the last, a patchwork of half-truths, vague updates, and empty words. They spoke often enough, but it never felt like they were really talking.
He wanted—no, needed—to say something real, to spill the storm that was brewing inside of him onto the screen, to find a way to speak the feelings that tangled in his chest. His hands flew over the screen, starting to type.
He wanted to tell her about Adrian—the way his presence had seeped into everything, the way his laugh echoed in Logan’s mind like the pulse of the ocean, the way Adrian’s smile could make the world feel both too big and too small at the same time.
He wanted to say that, maybe, just maybe, there was something between them that went beyond the usual rhythms of friendship, something deeper, something that terrified and exhilarated him all at once.
This was not the time. This was not something he could share.
Not even with Jane.
He deleted the message, his thumb lingering over the empty space where he might have poured out his heart. Instead, he typed something else, something simpler, easier to say.
How are you sis? Miss you lots. I’m having the time of my life. It’s the best. Love you. Talked to mom. Sent a text to Ann. Call you later this week.
He snapped a quick selfie—grinning, a flash of bright white teeth—and attached it to the message, the image of his face a moment captured, a life suspended.
And yet, despite the message, despite the distance he put between himself and the ache in his chest, the room still hummed with the quiet tension between them. The weight of Adrian’s presence felt like the pulse of the ocean itself, constant, inevitable, and far too much for Logan to ignore.
As Logan hit send on his message, a subtle shift in the room caught his attention. He glanced up from his phone and found Adrian’s eyes on him, steady, unwavering.
“Looks good,” Adrian said, his voice casual, but there was a hint of something behind it—a silent appreciation glistened in his eyes, paired with a lingering, wonder-filled gaze etched onto Logan.
Logan pressed his hand against his freshly-shaved jaw, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingertips.
“Thanks,” he muttered, the word slipping out almost absentmindedly.
He didn’t trust his voice right now, too many thoughts, too many things left unsaid.
He cleared his throat and asked, trying to fill the silence with something familiar, something safe. “Talked to your mom?”
“Yeah, earlier,” Adrian replied, his voice flowing like a gentle ocean breeze.
“It was some friends of mine.” He approached the bed and picked up a towel from the stack of clean linens.
Logan couldn’t take his eyes off him, yearning to see and hear Adrian.
“By the way, my mom says hi.” The words lingered in the air, and Logan, for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, felt the heat of a blush rise to his cheeks.
He nodded, trying to mask the flutter in his chest, that uninvited wave of warmth that threatened to pull him under.
Over the weeks they’d spent together, Adrian had told his parents about their travels, about the days spent riding the endless waves.
His mom had even called a few times, checking in on them both, a tangle of care threading through the static of their video calls.
Logan remembered one call vividly, the way Adrian had half-laughed, half-grinned at the camera, his voice carrying that familiar affection as he said, “This is Logan, the one I’ve been telling you about!
” Logan had barely managed a weak hello, his voice shaky in the face of Adrian’s pride, his heart drumming wildly in his chest as Adrian’s parents—both of them—smiled warmly at him through the screen, their English accented and broken but full of kindness.
It felt like too much, too fast, but still, Logan had smiled back, had nodded, had breathed through the moment.
But that moment had passed, and the room was now filled with a different tension—one Logan didn’t know how to navigate.
“My friends are here… they landed yesterday,” Adrian began, rubbing the back of his neck in that way that always seemed to stir something in Logan.
It makes sense, it’s a prime spot, always packed with surfers, Logan thought. “They’re heading out to Pacifico Beach tomorrow, it’s about twenty or thirty minutes away. They’ve got a ride set up. It’s supposed to be great.”