Page 23 of Shattered In Darkness

He leans in. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t let go; his hand staying on my shoulder. Heat radiates through my tank. It’s the most contact we’ve had, probably ever. I freeze, afraid he’ll move away, but he doesn’t. He just stays like that. Watching.

The moon makes my skin look blue and strange. His knees are spread wide, tough, and unashamed. He watches the ocean, but I know he’s staring at me out of the corner of his eyes.

“You always this quiet?”

“I talk if it matters,” he answers.

“What matters?”

He looks at my mouth first. “You could figure that out.”

I laugh, but it breaks. “You’re weird.”

“So are you, Bambi.”

The word makes my insides clench.

Lucas calls out, “You guys making out over there?”

Sophie throws a grape at him which nails him right in the eye socket.

Brody huffs a low noise, almost a laugh. “They’re children.”

“‘Scuse you,” Sophie starts, then stops. “Never mind.”

We pass the smoke until it’s gone. My head feels like it’s floating, everything is loud. Waves, breathing, even the sound of Brody scratching the side of his thumb against his knee.

Eventually, Lucas falls flat on his back. “I think I’m dead.”

“Good,” Brody says.

I laugh. My knee slides against his and he doesn’t flinch.

Sophie grins at us, making a face. “Lovebirds.”

It’s meant as a joke but it’s true. I want to rest my head on Brody’s shoulder, but I’m afraid he’ll push me away.

He wouldn’t, though. Maybe that’s the scariest part.

The conversation spins out. Dumb would-you-rathers. Weird childhood stories. All the secrets you say when you don’t think anyone will remember tomorrow. The weed makes it easy to not care. I let myself laugh, even when it hurts my stomach. I let my fingers pick at the edge of the blanket until I’m sure they’ll bleed.

It’s easy. That’s what’s so fucked about it.

Nothing has gone wrong yet.

After a while, everyone gets tired. Lucas says he can’t feel his feet. Sophie is half asleep, tangled in the edge of the blanket, hair sticky with sand. I finish the warm soda and throw the can behind me, because who cares?

We stand, but nobody moves fast. Brody hauls me to my feet, not letting go of my hand for too long, and I wonder if he notices.

I do.

We stagger up the sand, wind cutting at our faces, cold seeping through our shirts. I can’t stop giggling. Brody walks slowly so he’s behind everyone else. I lag too.

“What’s so funny?” he says.