Chapter 26
Luke
Our last stop was the beach. The sun, which had burned us all day, finally simmered down, warming us with its kindness. A slight breeze joined in. It was the definition of a perfect beach day.
With heels in her hands, Hazel strolled along the beach, her feet sinking softly into the warm sand. I couldn’t help but envy anything that got to touch her skin in ways I couldn’t. Stupid sand!
Everything was going according to plan. In the distance, beanbag chairs and a screen were already waiting for us.
“We’re having a movie night,” Hazel said, realizing.
“Yes. But I’m not so sure they’ll let you in,” I said, and she turned to me, confused. “‘Cause you’re such a snack. And movie theaters don’t allow snacks.” I winked at her.
“Oh my God, does this line work on every girl?”
“You tell me. You’re the first snack I’ve brought.” She tried to hide her embarrassed smile at my ridiculous compliment. My mind went blank whenever I noticed those cute lines on her face.
The girls settled in, and Logan and I went to the bar for drinks.
The waitress was cute, flirty even. My default setting was to reciprocate, but as soon as I smiled at her and made my order, it felt fake as fuck.
She giggled way too much, and her perfume was overwhelming.
I glanced at Hazel over my shoulder, and she immediately averted her gaze, a flicker of something fragile flashed in her gaze before she turned.
“So, what movie are we watching?” I heard Hazel ask from afar, as we returned with drinks, catching the snippets of their conversation.
“Honestly, I don’t know, but Luke promised it would be in English.” Summer chimed in.
“It will be in English, but no Jim Carrey classics were available, unfortunately,” I said, handing Hazel the drink. I brushed her fingers for only a second, but it felt like forever. “Gin and Tonic for our birthday girl.”
My gaze fell on dress—accidentally on purpose—and I cursed under my breath for the millionth time today.
That goddamn zipper in the front forced me to imagine possibilities I had no right to entertain.
At the same time, I was wondering how it was possible that it hadn’t popped open yet just by sheer will on my part.
The voices quieted down, and a title appeared on the screen All the Bright Places. Hazel’s lips parted in surprise, and she turned to me with a clear question in her eyes.
“I remember you telling me the movie was better.”
She slowly shook her head in disbelief. “You know that’s not a happy movie, right? Not everyone is gonna like it,” she said the most Hazel-thing possible—caring about what other people would like on her birthday—and glanced at people around us.
“Do you like it?” I asked, looking straight into her eyes. There was an inner battle going on in her head, and after a moment of not uttering a word, she pursed her lips in defiance.
“That’s all that matters.” I turned back to the screen, smirking at my apparent victory. Whether she wanted that or not, I knew her, and that gave me a great deal of satisfaction. A lot of things recently involving her did.
The painfully obvious truth, however, was that we shouldn’t cross a line we’d both regret. The real problem? The only regret I feared was hers. Because lately, my mind had no space for reason, no room for restraint. And it was driving me insane.
I sifted through the day’s events, trying to sort them into categories, to make sense of them. But one lingered... one was making me particularly anxious. Her words in the forest, and then again in the bookstore, echoed in my mind.
I’m not the girl you want. Not the kind a guy like you is looking for.
If only she knew how much I wanted her. How much she consumed my thoughts, day and night.
How she made me rethink my life, my choices, visiting places in my mind I had long shut down.
Maybe there was a chance, a way... a possibility of her and me.
A world where this could work. Where I could want the same things that she did.
That she deserved. In fact, didn’t I already want them?
For the next hour, we got lost in Finch and Violet’s story.
Hazel kept stealing glances at me from time to time.
Some of the looks I caught, I returned. Slowly, the ocean’s breeze was getting stronger, clouds drifting in, but the weather was still gorgeous.
I noticed goosebumps on her shoulders and put on my jacket, which she didn’t even seem to notice, too immersed in the story she probably knew by heart.
Though I hadn’t read the entire book, I had skimmed the synopsis, but suddenly the vibe of the whole movie changed, hinting at something bad.
Violet was driving to the lake to find Finch, and it dawned on me before the story showed it—Finch had died in that lake.
I turned to Hazel, and her face, quiet in grief, only confirmed my fear.
The weight of this whole thing settled heavily on my chest. This wasn’t just a story, it was a reflection. Her mother. Her loss.
Oh God. What have I done? I research and sell stuff to clients for a living, and I couldn’t research this?!
“Hazel,” I whispered, the biggest fucking regret in my voice.
“I’m not crying. You’re crying,” she shot back, eyes fixed on the screen. I took her hand, holding it gently. She squeezed back.
“Hazel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to....” Why? Just why? Why with her? “I didn’t know. I just saw your book and... I never would’ve suggested it.”
“Luke, it’s a beautiful, sad movie,” she whispered, raising her eyes to me. “It’s still beautiful.” Her teary smile hit me like a train. How could I have fucked this up?
She squeezed my hand again, and without hesitation, I pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her. Despite her having the common sense for both of us, despite knowing how dangerous we were to each other, she let me. She allowed herself to be in the moment. Allowed me to be there for her.
The movie neared its end as dark clouds swallowed half the sky.
Somewhere in the far distance, thunder rumbled.
As soon as the first warm drops of rain kissed our faces, Hazel tilted her head back, practically beaming in the middle of the storm as if she was born in the middle of it.
Molded by water like sea glass, worn by the waves but shining brighter for it.
Then she turned to me and smiled like no one else had.
“I’ve always liked the rain,” she said softly. Those beautiful freckles would be the end of me. A tiny stream of water traced her shoulder, and I brushed the cool skin—smooth as a baby’s.
She. She was my baby.
“Hazel, we gotta go. It’s starting to rain,” I said, grabbing the blanket beside us, covering our heads.
“But it’s the ending,” she protested, but then I saw it—the shift.
Her eyes flicked around at everybody else.
People had started to gather their things, and I saw her literally shrink in front of me, ashamed that she was making others stay.
All because for a second, she let herself want things out loud, and in her world, that was apparently a terrible crime.
“Hey, what are we doing?” Ethan yelled, trying to shield Summer with a cocktail umbrella.
“Or we can go. If you want to go, we can go,” Hazel said, guilt thick in her voice. I held her gaze for a moment, losing myself in her eyes again.
“Do you want to stay?”
“No, you’re right, we should go. Everybody’s getting wet, and the storm—” she mumbled.
“Hazel,” I said, a warning in my voice. Her eyes flickered nervously, and I could see her pleading not to make her do this. But I couldn’t. Not today.
She hesitated, pressing her palms together. “Yes.”
I turned to the others. “You guys go ahead. We’ll meet at the parking lot.”
Alex smirked, and I rolled my eyes. Not every moment needs to be soaked in cliché romance, with the smitten hero disguising his feelings behind a flimsy facade. Just throw in a little danger for the girl, cue the dramatic confession, and voilà—you’ve got yourself a chick-flick.
Those conflicting feelings, however, didn’t stop me from wrapping us in the blanket like a breakfast burrito, hiding from the rain. I held her close as we sat through the final ten minutes, listening to the heartbreaking monologue.
I felt Hazel peek at me as I tried to hide my glistening eyes, my fingers entwined with hers. And even though I had no right to hope for anything, even though I could’ve done better today, I still wished that this birthday, this moment, would always be one of her favorites.
* * *
The drive back was quiet. Everybody was tired from the long day, and most of our friends had nodded off. Hazel still had my jacket draped over her shoulders, clutching it to retain some warmth. At least, that’s what she claimed. She stayed wrapped in it even with the heater blasting.
I’m not the girl you want.
I’m not the girl you need.
The words replayed in my head like a broken record.
“Why so sour?” Hazel asked suddenly, her voice perfectly matching the soft tones of the music.
“I’m not. Just focusing on the road. A little tired,” I lied. I wasn’t tired for a second. “You still cold?”
“I’m good,” she murmured, burrowing deeper into my jacket. “So, is the night over, or should I brace for more surprises?”
“That’s classified.” She giggled, and the way her chest moved with it made me snap my gaze back to the road and clear my throat. Jesus, get it together.
Luckily, we were already home.
“Rise and shine, weirdos,” I said, shifting into park.
A chorus of groggy, unintelligible groans, including Logan’s whale sounds, made it to the front, as everybody slowly got out of the car.
“Luke.” Ava looked at me. “Yeah?” she asked, confirming our plan.
I nodded. Hazel’s head whipped between us, trying to figure out where the rest of the sentence had disappeared.
“Alright, everybody, let’s go,” Ava announced, leading the way. Hazel reached for the door, but I locked it from my side.
“Oops. No clearance from the commander yet,” I said.
“And you’re the commander?”
I shook my head, watching the others disappear. “Ava.”
“Is there something else planned?”
“That’s classified.”
“You already used this one.”
“Commander’s orders,” I teased, watching her scrunch her nose in adorable disapproval.
The rain had simmered down, leaving behind soft raindrops. Our little bubble closed in around us again. “It’s still raining,” I murmured to myself in the quiet of the car.
“You are not kissing me in the rain,” she blurted, half-serious, half-laughing. “You may be Ryan Gosling, but I’m no Rachel McAdams.”
I smiled, until I didn’t.
“Hazel... It’s not true,” I said, my voice quieter now. The petrichor (the pleasant smell after a rain, as Hazel informed me) turning into a pinch of vulnerability.
“What’s not true?”
“I don’t want you ever to think that you’re not the kind of girl people want. You’re...” The words caught in my throat. “You’re perfect. It’s me.”
“Oh, please. Not that it matters, but are you actually giving me the it’s not you, it’s me speech?” she laughed, not the least bit offended.
“I’m serious.”
She rolled her eyes. “C’mon.”
We finally stepped out, but as Hazel made a run for the house, I grabbed her hand.
The rain fell heavily, soaking us instantly.
Two feet between us and the unbearable electricity at the point where our palms touched.
I kept holding her wrist, but didn’t know what to do.
What to say. I wasn’t going to kiss her, I just needed to touch her.
This was as far as I’d allow myself to go right now.
Hazel looked down at our hands, then back at me, my gaze holding hers. Guilt, pain, and shame were all over my face. I felt like the bad guy wanting to leave her alone, yet also actively seeking her out.
Confusion in Hazel’s eyes suddenly transformed into something else. Her eyes softened. She stepped closer, while my heartbeat slammed into my ribs.
“Luke, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said gently. “I don’t feel sad or betrayed, or whatever you think in your lizard brain. We are who we are. And we want what we want. Or don’t want. And that’s okay.” Her thumb caressed my hand, and I tried not to lose myself in her scent, drowning me.
“You’re a good person. You haven’t done anything wrong. We’re friends.” It was something I should have wanted to hear. Instead, I felt worse.
For a moment, we just stood there. In the rain. In the moment. Feeling things without naming them. I lifted her hand and pressed a light kiss to her fingers. She didn’t try to hide the goosebumps trailing up her arm or how her lips parted slightly.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I believe we have a fun evening planned, am I right? Let’s have some fun.”
She smiled, giving my hand a gentle tug. And somehow, that simple gesture meant more to me than any of her words.