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The Beach is For Lovers (Not Lonely Losers)

"There's more to life than chasing ghosts,

But then hindsight's 20/20."

- "The Beach is For Lovers (Not Lonely Losers)," Neck Deep (2015)

Jordan

"Will you relax?" I grumble to Alex as we climb the steps of the Bennetts' porch. "You're Alejandro Molina; everyone loves you."

He looks as if he's on the verge of throwing up—has been ever since we arrived in Lily's new hometown. I, on the other hand, have taken the time to soak in Pismo Beach.

With mountains to the east and the ocean to the west, it's a charming place—right up Lily's alley. She lives on a street of big, nearly identical houses that face away from the bluffs and ocean directly behind them.

It wasn't hard to find the Bennetts' place, even without their house number or Google Maps. Like their neighbors' houses, it's a two-story Mediterranean with white brick, a brown roof, and big, curved windows. But their lawn is a little greener, their flowers are a little brighter, and every aspect of their exterior is unmistakably cozy.

"Wow..." Alex's eyes take in the lavish suburb that surrounds us, obviously noticing how large the houses are now that we're out of the car. "I know Lily's parents are lawyers, but...I keep forgetting that she's..."

He trails off, so I finish his sentence with something that I know will creep him out.

"One of us?"

"...One of us..."

He echoes me with an expression of faint realization, but we're interrupted before the implication can sink in like I intended it to.

"What are you two knuckleheads doing here so early? We don't eat until five."

The words sound like Lily's, but the voice coming through the digital doorbell isn't hers. I won't lie and pretend that I haven't imagined meeting Joseph Bennett again, but this definitely isn't how I pictured our reunion starting.

Alex's eyes almost buck out of his head, and, even though I'm a little startled as well, I cross my arms, look into the camera, and respond for the both of us.

"Early is on time, on time is late."

That's his motto, after all. He doesn't say anything in response, and, after a few seconds pass, the polished wood door swings open. The figure standing there is characteristically tall, somehow managing to be an intimidating presence while wearing a "Daddio of the Patio" apron. Copper brown hair, a matching beard, tan skin, freckles, and crow's feet in the corner of blue eyes—that's Joseph Bennett for sure.

He closes his eyes for a moment, obviously recognizing who we are, but I know Lily has briefed him to keep our past under wraps. I lift my eyebrows at him in the moment of silence that follows, and Alex is the one to break it.

"Hi, Mr. Bennett." He holds out his hand for him to shake. "I'm Alejan—"

"I know who you are," Joseph interrupts, running a hand down his face. Alex freezes in response, but Joseph's eyes were on me when he delivered that line.

"O-oh."

Alex draws his hand back, wounded, and Joseph glances at the bottle in my arm.

"What kind of champagne is that?"

"Dom," I answer instantly, lifting it but not bothering with the details of how I got my hands on it. It's his favorite, and we both know that, but he refuses to let that show. Slowly, he retreats from his protective stance in the door, adjusts his apron, and allows us entry into the foyer.