Page 111 of Johnny

It’s a very deliberate, strategic kind of intelligence. One that focuses clearly on outcomes.

And even though I accused her of having a filthy mouth before dinner, that was mostly the bad

mood I was pretending not to be in. Stress about tomorrow. About who she is and my suspicions of

her.

But I think I was wrong earlier. She is a nice girl. Maybe not sticky sweet like cake frosting. But

just sweet enough. Like pie crust. And she was listening to me when I was waxing poetically about

plans and whether I had one.

I like her and I think she likes me. Maybe.

But here’s the problem. She has no idea who and what I really am.

I don’t care how many rumors she’s heard about me or my family. I don’t care what kind of life she

lived on that Way island of hers. The only person on this planet who really knows who I am is me.

I don’t have much hope that will change. Not in this life, anyway. Maybe, if I ever get another shot

at this shit, things will turn out different.

But not this time.

Still, I’m not a fuckin’ animal. So I drop off to the side of her spent body on the beach and then

reach for her. Pull her on top of me. Hold her like that and just stare up at the stars.

The tide is going down. The ocean tries to drag us back into the deep like we belong there. But it’s

a losing battle. We are creatures of the land so the sand claims us tonight.

We lie like that for a long time, I think. Not sure, but it feels long. I just stare up at all those

twinkling lights above and wonder, not for the first time, what the point is of all this.

What is the fuckin’ point?

To die, I guess.

That’s the only guarantee we have. The only thing we know for sure is that one day it will all end.

I shake my head.

“What that’s for?” Megan asks.

“Just… I dunno. Denial, maybe.”

I feel her smile against my chest and for some reason I get the urge to play with her hair. “What are

you in denial about?”

“The point.”

“What point?”