Chapter 16 Now
Now
“High Noon or beer?” I ask Maren, pulling one of each out of a small soft cooler nestled in the sand. Technically there’s no drinking allowed on the beach, but only the bennys ever seem to get caught. We, on the other hand, know how to be discreet.
“Noon. Black cherry,” Maren replies, leaning back and arranging her body under the shade of the umbrella she borrowed from her parents’ house.
Growing up, I’d always envied how quickly her skin would develop a deep tan within the first days of summer, contrasting with her white-blond hair, but now she looks pale in comparison to me.
The world of designers and models she inhabits has given her a newfound preoccupation with all things skin care and antiaging.
I crack open one of the vodka seltzer cans, decant it into a tumbler and hand it to Maren, then do the same with a Corona for myself. “Three years in London and you’ve become a vampire,” I say.
“I’m sorry we can’t all live at the beach,” she says, doing that thing only she can seem to do: make my life seem a lot cooler than it is.
I spread out a towel between her Tommy Bahama beach chair and David’s gear, which he dropped in a heap before immediately heading for the water.
I lie on my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows so I can look out at the waves rolling in.
It’s been two weeks since Bubba’s party—and two weeks since Maren and I split a bottle of rosé on my balcony, her jaw hung open in disbelief as I recounted the story of Sebastian and Claire’s demise.
Sebastian texted me the next morning. His message said, Overthinkers’ Support Group with a little “TM” next to it, the trademark emoji.
I responded: Not to immediately overthink, but we need a better name.
I haven’t seen him in person, but we’ve been texting somewhat regularly ever since, mostly about work or his mom’s treatments.
Maren has expressed reservations about this new line of communication, which is pretty rich, considering I’m only in this situation because she practically forced me to go to the party.
David, on the other hand, is quickly becoming Team Sebastian’s number one representative.
I’ve assured them both I’m not getting my hopes up.
I’m not thinking beyond the summer at all.
“God, we were so lucky to grow up here,” Maren says now, “and we didn’t even realize it.”
I follow Maren’s gaze toward the water, trying to see Brantley Beach through her eyes—the eyes of someone who left.
I think guiltily of the twinge of shame I’ve always felt about ending up back here while so many other people have moved on.
Would I see it differently if I’d known anywhere else for longer than a year? Or if Maren had stayed, too?
“Would you ever come back?” I ask. I realize I’m not sure what her answer will be.
She considers the question for a moment, pursing her lips as she thinks. “I don’t think so,” she says finally. “I’m a city person now.”
“Careful. Beach patrol might be listening,” I joke. “But I don’t blame you. Who needs Jersey when you can bop over to the French Riviera for a beach getaway?”
Maren snorts, but I know I’m not far off. Maren can downplay the glamour of her life on our FaceTimes and in our messages all she wants. I know she goes on frequent holidays with work friends, and that she has no shortage of suitors abroad who are skilled in the arts of wooing and whisking.
“It’s not the same,” she says, turning to me. “Here has you.”
My heart swells with affection for my best friend. I reach for her hand and squeeze it.
“All right all right, enough of that,” Maren says. “I promise not to get sentimental again until my last day.”
David returns, his skin glistening with salt water, and the three of us lie out for a few blissful hours, alternating between chatting and reading (a paperback thriller for me, a media mogul tell-all for David and the latest issue of Vogue for Maren).
We’re all dozing off when I hear a loud thud. A soccer ball lands in a spray of sand at Maren’s feet.
I stand and whip around, already annoyed at the half-hearted apology I’m about to get from some high schooler or college kid, but instead I find myself face-to-face with Sebastian.
A conspicuously shirtless Sebastian.
In theory, this particular detail shouldn’t affect me.
After all, Sebastian was frequently shirtless during the summers of 2009 and 2010.
His mom would often scold him for peeling off his shirt the second his shift ended and he was ready to hit the waves, or for stopping by to distract her and the staff on his days off, sandy, sunburnt and barefoot, wearing only his faded red board shorts.
But seeing adult Sebastian shirtless is a different thing entirely.
His arms are corded with lean muscle, his long torso smattered with the subtle outline of his abs.
He has the effortlessly athletic body of a guy who doesn’t spend hours a week in a gym but instead has an active lifestyle.
Maybe he surfs a few mornings a week and goes for a couple of easy jogs over the weekend.
Whatever he’s doing, it’s working for him.
“Sorry. He thinks he’s still on the team.” Sebastian gestures over his shoulder to Andre, who’s a few yards back, stifling a laugh.
I toss the ball to him, feeling basically naked in my bandeau bikini. Why couldn’t I have been wearing my coverup?
“We’ll let it slide, Sebastian, but next time you can just say hi,” Maren perches her sunglasses on her head, one blond eyebrow arched in suspicion. “No need to endanger us to get Lina’s attention.”
Sebastian’s eyes widen a little. I shoot daggers at Maren over my shoulder, catching David’s giddy expression in the process.
“You’re right. I’ll try again,” Sebastian says, playing along. “Hi, Lina. Enjoying the weather?”
“Ha-ha,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
I half expect Sebastian to turn back to his game but he tosses the ball between his hands, eyes on me. “We were actually about to grab a bite at the restaurant. You guys want to join?”
Maren and I both start to shake our heads, but before we can answer David chimes in. “We’re starved. I’m David, by the way. Lina’s work husband. Although not her first, I hear.”
Maren swats him with her magazine.
“A bite sounds great,” I say, masking my mortification with a tight smile.
“Meet you up there in ten?” Sebastian asks with a little smirk.
I nod, and then he jogs back over to Andre.
“What are you doing?” I hiss at David once Sebastian’s out of earshot. “I thought we were going out to dinner tonight.” He’s already standing, shaking the sand from his towel. Maren is still in her chair, uncharacteristically quiet.
“I’m forcing you to actually figure out what’s going on with him,” David hisses back.
“There’s nothing going on!” I’m full-on whining.
“You’re right, there isn’t anything right now, and maybe there never will be. But you can’t let this drag on like last time—it’s crazy! Don’t you want to find out for sure, one way or the other?”
Maren stands with a sigh and slings the strap of her folded chair over one shoulder.
“Wow. You both think I’m still hung up on him, don’t you?” I ask.
My friends exchange a knowing look that makes my skin heat, and then Maren says gently, “I don’t know if it’s him, or if it’s the idea of him, or maybe even if it’s you—the person you were back when you had this crazy crush. But there’s something you’re holding on to.”
“And I think the fact that he’s back in town—and, conveniently, single—is the perfect reason to figure out what that something is,” David adds.
“Convenient is a bit of a stretch,” I argue. “Are you forgetting that he literally just broke off his engagement? I’m sure he’s nowhere near ready to even think about someone new.”
David perches two steadying hands on my shoulders. “You’re not someone new, though. And I’m not saying you have to rush into anything, okay? You can take things slow. Get to know each other again—as adults this time—and see where it goes.”
I look to Maren. It’s clear to me that these two have been scheming behind my back. I’m sure I’ll be sorting through my feelings about that later. “And you agree with this?”
She shakes her head wearily. “I don’t know, Leens. It worries me, to be honest.” She doesn’t have to say why for me to understand: Because I know what happened last time. “But I do think it’s something you have to figure out.”
There’s not much I can say to that, so I take a deep, grounding breath and let it out. I flip my sunglasses down from their perch atop my head. Then Maren and David each wrap an arm around my back and steer me toward the boardwalk.