Chapter 1
1
Bryce - 18 years old
Summer Before College
I turn on the flashlight on my phone and put the car keys in my hoodie pocket. The streetlights are so dim I can barely make out objects that are right in front of me, but I like it like this. I like the darkness. The peace. The feeling that I’m the only person in the world awake at this moment. The sound of the ocean being the only thing that is audible.
Walking along the beach, my mind starts replaying the absurd dinner I had last night with my dad and his new fiancée. I can’t believe he just sprung that on me. My dad hasn’t introduced any of his girlfriends to me until now, and my mom has been dead since I was two. So the fact that I met Astrid Lee last night, and they’re already engaged, means she’s here to stay. This is real. Get used to her, Bryce .
Something about that woman just fucking grates on me. Not only did they meet only four months ago, and he’s already proposed, but I have a feeling she is going to make my life hell and turn it upside down. It’s a good thing by the time the tourists leave Elsham Cove at the end of summer, so will I. Shame on me that I didn’t choose a university farther away than the Radinger Institute of Technology. If I had known, I would have gone somewhere else that’s not within a thirty-minute drive radius. Fucking Alaska, maybe. Unable to control it, angry, pathetic tears start to fall from my eyes.
My steps come to a halt when I see another bright light coming from the opposite direction. Someone else is here. Odd, since it’s three in the morning.
“Hello!” I call out. The other person stops walking. I continue to walk toward the source of light, and whoever is there starts fidgeting and panicking. I can tell by the way the light keeps on moving left and right like laser beams in a club that this person is frantically trying to avoid me and find an exit strategy.
“Don’t be scared. I promise I’m not going to bother you. I’m just here for a walk!”
“That’s what a murderer would say,” a feminine voice with a slight accent answers, sounding frightened, and I can’t help but laugh at what she’s saying. She’s not wrong.
“How do I know you’re not a murderer?”
She doesn’t answer my question. “I’m a tourist. If you kidnap or kill me, the media will hound you.”
“Just take one of the big rocks from the ground and bring it with you. If you pass by me and think I’m going to hurt you, you can defend yourself.” Theoretically, I just gave this person an idea of how to attack me. Maybe that was a bad idea. “But I really wish you wouldn’t throw the rock at me. I swear to God, I’m just here for a walk.”
Seeing how the light moves, I can tell that she’s crouching down, probably to get the rock she’s going to use as a weapon, and then stands back up again. She’s coming closer and closer, and I stand where I am, not wanting to intimidate her more than I already am. By the time she reaches me, we are both squinting from the brightness glowing from each other’s phones.
I move my phone farther away so we both can get a better look at one another. It looks like she was telling the truth, after all. The girl standing in front of me is a five foot two, frightened Asian tourist, clutching a rock to her chest. If the big camera dangling from her neck doesn’t give her away, the Elsham Cove T-shirt she’s wearing does. None of the locals buy the garbage they sell at the gift shops.
“Are you lost or something?” I ask, trying to figure out why she would be out here all alone so early in the morning.
She takes me in with her dark eyes, hesitating to answer before she finally opens her mouth. “I want to take pictures of the sunrise.”
“You’re at the wrong spot.”
The girl looks at me, confused, somewhat offended, and I can’t help but smirk. All the summer tourists take photos of the sunrise and sunset from the town’s main beach. So generic. Snap a pic and then go home, claiming to have been to Elsham Cove without actually going to Elsham Cove. With the bottom part of her hair dyed green and the fact that she dares to even wander around alone at this hour, I have a feeling she’s anything but basic.
“If you want to get the best shot of the sunrise, this is not the spot. The beach near the high school is,” I elaborate.
“Elsham Cove?” she asks while tilting her head to the side .
“Yep. The one and only,” I deadpan while pointing to the logo on her chest. “Have you been there?”
“No. It’s pretty far from the town center.”
She doesn’t say anything after that, one of her hands still holding onto her phone and the other one to the strap of her backpack. She must have dropped the rock at some point and I must have not noticed. I was too busy focusing on her . Any other person would say goodbye now and continue walking, but I don’t. It’s like a magnet is keeping me in place in front of this girl.
She starts staring at me from the corner of her eye. She’s probably wondering why on Earth I am still here. She’s probably regretting having dropped that rock. The girl mumbles something to herself and awkwardly waves her hand at me, taking a step in the direction that I was coming from, and leaving me here alone.
“You want me to take you there?”
The smile on her face is not a happy one, nor is it an inviting one. It’s a nervous one. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and politely rejects my offer. “No, but thank you.”
“I’m not a murderer, I promise.”
“Again, that’s what a murderer would say.”
What kind of stranger offers a random girl a ride across town in the middle of the night? But a deep desire to get to know her better is bubbling inside me. Why are you out here alone? Why do you look so sad? Or maybe misery just loves company.
I take out my wallet from my back pocket and give her my driver’s license, putting it in her hand. I smile when I see the purple and blue nail polish she’s sporting. Cute . “Take a picture of it and send it to your family, friends, whatever. If you ever go missing, they know who you were with last. I promise I don’t want to kidnap you. I just hate the fact that people come to Elsham Cove but never actually visit Elsham Cove. It’s a pet peeve of mine.”
My brain is getting ready for the disappointment of her rejecting my offer again, but to my surprise, she snaps a picture of the card and types something on her phone, probably to send my information to someone she trusts. Her eyes look up to meet mine as she exhales a breath. “Don’t make me regret this, Bryce Randall Simmons, born in Elsham Cove.”
My body feels light and my cheeks tighten from the smile forming on my face. It worked. Trying to hide my excitement, I press my lips together and point in the direction of the parking lot at the end of the beach.
“It’s only fair I get to see some identification from you, too,” I say as we walk alongside each other. “For all I know, I just offered a serial killer a ride.”
She stands still and puts her backpack on the ground before opening the zipper and pulling out a blue passport.
“You’re American,” I say, confused.
“I’m mixed,” the girl clarifies. “I will only be American until I’m twenty when I have to let go of my citizenship. I’m Japanese.” I don’t press for details. That story can be unpacked another time. Don’t particularly care, either.
She hands her passport to me and I return it to her after taking a photo of the second page but not sending it to anyone. “Don’t make me regret this, Haruki Sano, born in Osaka.”