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His gaze remains locked on the horizon, a peaceful expression on his face.
“It’s beautiful.”
I have to stop myself from leaning my head against his shoulder. Or wishing he’d lean down to kiss me. It would be perfect — my first kiss — watching the sun sink into the ocean and casting us into a world of muted greys.
As it disappears, he finally turns to look at me. His eyes look darker and no longer the same perfect sea-blue shade but more slate. We share something for a moment as we keep looking at each other.
But the spell is broken when everyone starts cheering from behind us, and we hear a woosh noise.
Jeremy turns and grins. “Come on.” He stands and offers his hand to pull me up. They’ve lit the bonfire, and we watch as the flames lick up the wood and crates they’d collected to burn.
For the rest of the night, Jeremy stays close to me, making sure I’m set for a drink, but doesn’t chat much. He’s split between hanging out with his Cove friends and babysitting me. Or that’s what it feels like.
The butterflies and anticipation that exploded as we sat on the sand are long forgotten. The bite in the air even threatens the warmth of my hoodie.
The girls and all the others who arrived through the evening seemed to hate me on sight for simply being here with Jeremy.
‘Hey, Archer,’ becomes the soundtrack to the rest of the night.
At eleven, I text Mum and tell her I’ll be another ten minutes and that she can pick me up where she dropped me. I’ve had enough.
“Hey, Jeremy, I think I’m going to make a move. Thanks for showing me the cove.”
“Oh, okay, cool. You need a lift?”
“My mum’s just messaged.”
“Let me walk you back.”
“Thanks, it’s just over there.”
“No, it’s fine,” he insists, and those sparks start in my tummy again.
He doesn’t say much as we walk back towards the car park, but before we hit the boardwalk that leads back to The Shack, he pauses.
I drop my flip-flops and slide my feet back into them.
“When do you leave?” he asks.
“The weekend,” I answer, wondering if he wants to see me again. I only have a couple of days left, and I hope he does.
“I’m going for a fishing trip with my dad tomorrow until Friday.”
“Oh, cool,” I lie. It would mean there’s no more time to hang out. “I better?—”
He grabs my hand and pulls me against him. His lips land against mine as his hand creeps up my neck and around my head, pulling me against him.
The kiss is soft — gentle — for a moment, but then it’s more. He’s tugging at my lips with his as his mouth parts. It feels urgent and exciting, and it’s like he’s stolen all the air in my lungs. It’s dizzying and consuming, and I want all of it. Now. My arms reach up, and I have to stand on tiptoes to wrap them around his neck.
My heart pounds as he keeps the kiss going. Longer and deeper before his tongue plays against mine.
And just as quickly as it started, burning through me, it passes like a wave washing out to shore. “Hmmm.” He hums as his fingers play with a strand of my hair. And I think it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. “Text me when you get home.”
“Okay.” He pulls my hand and intertwines my fingers with his. Only for a moment, but he squeezes my hand before letting it go and walking towards the path.
He doesn’t say another word, and neither do I. He stops at the table I first saw him at but waits for me to get into the car. Before I close the door, I look back and wave.
And he waves back.
