The Missing Part Of Me

Nine

The cool evening air wrapped around us as Jay and I made our way to the beach, the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore filling the space between us. The café had been great, but now that we were outside, walking along the water, I felt like everything had shifted into something more real. Something deeper. The horizon stretched out before us, painted in soft shades of pink and purple, the last remnants of sunlight slowly fading away.

"So, this is nice," Jay said, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He looked over at me with a smile, his eyes reflecting the fading light of the evening. "I'm glad you agreed to come out here with me."

I nodded, feeling the warmth of his words settle into my chest. "I'm glad too. It's kind of peaceful here, isn't it? Away from everything else."

"Yeah," he said, kicking a small stone out of his path and watching it skip across the wet sand. "It's like the world slows down when you're by the water. Everything feels simpler."

I smiled, matching his pace as we walked along the shoreline. The sand was cool beneath my sneakers, and every now and then, a wave would creep up and wet my feet, making me laugh as I stepped back quickly to avoid getting soaked. Jay glanced over at me, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Careful," he teased, "you're going to get your shoes wet."

I stuck my tongue out playfully. "If I do, I'll blame you for leading me into a sand trap."

Jay chuckled, the sound light and easy. It felt nice. Natural, even. And yet, there was still this unspoken tension lingering between us, an awareness that I couldn't quite shake. Every time our eyes met, my heart skipped just a little bit faster. I wasn't sure if it was the intimacy of the walk, the closeness of the moment, or something more that was starting to blossom, but I was definitely aware of him in a way I hadn't been before.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rhythmic crash of the waves and the occasional call of distant seabirds. I kept my gaze focused ahead, but I could feel the weight of Jay's presence beside me, like he was a part of the quiet landscape we were walking through.

Finally, Jay broke the silence again, his voice low and thoughtful. "So, have you always liked the beach? Or is this just a random walk?"

I glanced at him, then back at the water. "I guess I've always liked it. Something about the endless horizon, the way the water just keeps going... It's like it makes you realize how small everything else is. How much of the world is out there, waiting."

Jay nodded, his eyes following the water as well. "I get that. There's something calming about it, like it reminds you that there's more than just what's in front of you. Like the waves just keep going no matter what."

There was a quiet understanding between us in those words, an unspoken connection that felt easy and real. I could tell he wasn't just talking about the ocean anymore. He was talking about life. About how things sometimes felt bigger than what we could control, how everything kept moving, whether we were ready or not.

We walked a little further, the sky darkening as the stars started to appear overhead. The beach was quieter now, with only a few people scattered along the shoreline, walking their dogs or sitting on blankets. The air was cooler, but it was comfortable, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders begin to melt away.

"You're a bit of an open book, huh?" I asked lightly, breaking the silence again. I wasn't sure where the question had come from, but the curiosity was there, and I couldn't resist.

Jay raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," I said, a little self-conscious. "You just seem... easy to talk to. Like you're comfortable with yourself."