28. Malibu
TWENTY-EIGHT
MALIBU
Halle
The pungent smell of gasoline hits my nose and makes its way through my senses the moment I open my car door. We’re topping off our gas tanks and snack reservoirs before we officially get to Malibu.
“Ready for the beach?” I lean against the side of the van, arms crossed. I’ve been trying to convince the Tryhard guys to take a day excursion to the beach in Malibu ever since we got to California. Well, it doesn’t take much convincing to get Cade to do anything with me, so really it’s been me twisting the arms of the Vanboys. The whole point of being on tour together is to, well, do things together . Not just me and Cade running off together—as much fun as that is.
“For the millionth time, Hal, we don’t want another beach day. We’re beached out, if you will,” Logan says casually, with a shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t even deign me with his full attention, that’s reserved for the gas pump he’s putting his card information into.
Commence Operation: Blackmail-ibu , I think to myself. I made Cade scheme with me during our morning coffee, and got him to give me some insider knowledge I can use to—kindly—blackmail Zack and Logan.
“Well, I talked to your girlfriend.” I pause, waiting to see him become more interested in the conversation. Once I see his eyebrows raise, I continue on. “And she told me the real reason you don’t like the beach…” I trail off.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Why doesn’t he seem the slightest bit worried? Is his poker face that good?
“I know you can’t swim,” I deliver with the utmost confidence.
At that, his calm, cool, collected demeanor is no more. He’s laughing—hard. Laughing? I just tried to use his biggest secret against him and he’s laughing?
“Hal, that’s ridiculous. Everyone knows I was on swim and dive in high school,” he laughs out.
“You’re lying.” Please be lying.
“Nothin’ but the truth.” He pulls the nozzle out of the van and puts it back on the pump, and then gives me a pat on the shoulder, as if to say nice try .
I turn and look behind me to find Cade looking a little too amused, covering his mouth trying to suppress his own laughter. That dirty little liar! He so knew.
“You set me up!” I yell at him.
“Can you blame me? That was pretty hilarious,” he defends, holding his hands above his head.
“Of course I can blame you! Nobody’s going to come with us now!” I complain.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He winks at me.
Cade one, Halle zero . Someone remind me to never make an operation with Cade again.
“Your punishment is driving.” He loves driving so much that he probably won’t even consider it a punishment.
“Woe is me,” he dramatizes.
I’m really in for it today, aren’t I?
With only over a month left on the road, I’m starting to feel the “just friends” timer running out. It feels like Cade has been slowly closing in, waiting for me to give up on it early. I’ll admit that it hasn’t been easy, some days I ask myself why I’m holding out, why am I depriving both of us of what we want?
I didn’t want to have to question anything, or have relationship drama on tour, that’s the whole reason I drew this stupid boundary. Well, not stupid, I think it was a great choice, but with all of the alone time we’ve spent together, I’ve had to be on my toes, keeping myself aware of how we’re interacting, which usually ends up with me shutting down Cade’s flirting.
Ever since San Diego last week, it’s been harder to push him away—it took everything in me to not give up right then and there when the fireworks went off. It was a perfect moment—the fireworks lighting up the sky, reflecting everything I was feeling inside as he finished playing my song for me. I hope he doesn’t try to serenade me again, I think that would send me over the edge.
The drive into Malibu is stunning, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The Vanboys are truly missing out on this.
Cade pulls into a small, hilly parking lot full of giant gravel, making me glad we’re in my Jeep. He grabs our bag of beach towels and snacks from the trunk, tells me not to carry anything, and then leads the way to the walking path. When we turn the first corner, I accidentally draw the attention of a group of nearby strangers, gasping so loud at the sight of the giant cliff we have to walk down.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t fall,” Cade reassures me.
I do feel comforted, and I know he will catch me if I fall, but it doesn’t make me excited to keep going. The last thing I need to do is go falling into Cade’s arms.
“This better be the best beach I’ve ever seen,” I assert before committing to a few baby steps down the rocky, dirt path.
My feet finally meet the sand fifteen minutes later, thanks to a combination of my safe pace and a few steep staircases that followed the initial cliff. Cade, don’t let me dow n. If I had socks on, I’d expect them to be knocked off.
We walk along the beach until we find a good spot to lay out our towels.
“Look familiar?” Cade asks as we sit down.
I take my time looking around, observing as many details as I can, trying to figure out what he means.
“Looks like any other beach to me.” I try not to sound annoyed, but the trek down here was brutal, and we drove past so many beaches that required no hiking from the parking lot.
His excited smile droops into a frown, and he starts fishing his phone out of his pocket. He takes a few seconds to look something up, then turns his screen toward me, pressing play on a video. I register exactly what the video is from the sepia-toned opening shot of the beach.
“No way!” I can’t help but laugh, feeling much lighter than I did a few moments ago. “That’s enough, I’m not mad at you anymore,” I joke to him. “But, I do wish you got everyone to come so we could recreate the video.”
“Lack of foresight from me,” he laughs out. “Who would I be, miss director?”
“Harry, of course,” I jump to respond.
After we spend the next few hours laying out on our towels, debating which One Direction members the rest of Tryhard would be, and eating some snacks in between, we decide we’re hungry enough for dinner.
Cade picked out the spot, a beachfront cafe with outdoor seating, it looks straight off the set of a movie. He pulls yet another surprise on me today, and when we walk in, he tells the hostess we have a reservation. Since when? We start following her to our table, and Cade reaches back and grabs my hand. This is starting to feel very date- like.
We get seated at our table, and right away, Cade orders two Shirley Temples. Ordering for me? Definitely a date.
I want to be mad at him for tricking me into a date, but I can’t. Every time I’ve ever been upset with him, it’s always been my fault—my insecurities, my miscommunications getting in the way. I can’t keep overanalyzing and overthinking every moment we share. I’ve been trying to control the narrative of our relationship all summer, all over a label. A label that neither of us even want. I’ve made it clear that I hate lies, so why am I forcing myself into one? We’ve made it this far as friends, not just the first half of tour, but our whole lifetime of knowing each other. It would be easy to keep it that way forever. Safe, even. I think that’s why I’ve been so adamant about this “friends” thing, I’m afraid of leaving that bubble of safety, of disturbing the peace.
The simple fact is this—I like Cade, a lot, and I like spending time with him, a lot. And I have both of those things in front of me right now. It’s time that I start being honest with myself and stop running from my feelings.
“Cheers?” Cade asks, lifting his glass.
My hand finds my glass without breaking eye contact with him, and I lift it up, mirroring him.
“Cheers.” I clink my glass with his and feel all my worries melt away.