amity // phan

sixteen.

-dan-

The afternoon was cold and dry. There were wisps of snow, still dancing in the air, still fluttering past my window.

Spencer's black truck pulled into my driveway a little after ten in the morning. I didn't quite know what to make of it. He knocked at my door, and asked if I had an empty afternoon.

I nodded, grabbed my coat, followed him out the door.

"What's going on?" I asked him.

"I think we're going to the beach."

"It's December."

Spencer shrugged, and climbed into the car. "I didn't say that we were going swimming."

He pulled out of the driveway quietly, and I looked at my hands. I could almost feel the way he was holding his breath, his eyes missing mine on purpose. I could almost feel how everything was building up, how everything was getting ready to fall.

"Spencer, what's going on?"

There was a short pause. When he finally answered, his words sounded numb.

"It's Phil," he said. "He's feeling down again– he won't tell anyone why, either. Amelia wants to get him out of the house."

I nodded. My eyes were wide, sharp.

Somehow, I doubted that Phil had told Spencer what he'd told me in the parking lot. I doubted that he'd told anyone else at all. He was too sickeningly proud.

We were stopped at a red light, and Spencer's fingers were gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white. That's when I noticed for the first time that Phil wasn't the only one who was feeling down again. And I wondered how it'd taken me so long to see.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"With Phil?"

"With you."

He pretended that he hadn't heard me. His eyes were locked on the road, his hands locked on the wheel. Except his breath had caught in his throat, and I'd noticed.

"It's not like I'm going to tell anyone," I said quietly. "Or like I even have anyone to tell."

Spencer nodded his head. There was colour high in his cheekbones, there were flowers blooming under his skin. He was quiet, and his fingers were tapping on the steering wheel.

The car was filling up with white noise, with tension, with anticipation– and then:

"I'm in love with Amelia."

Oh.

"I didn't think– I didn't know that you two were–"

"We aren't," he said.

His voice wasn't bitter, exactly. It was just tired.

"We aren't anything."

I didn't say anything else for the rest of the drive. I don't think he noticed.

-

The beach was smaller than I expected.

Waves were pounding up on the shore, beating into the pebbles. The sky was overcast.

Amelia and Phil were already waiting for us when we got there. The two of them were sitting on the hood of his car, talking quietly. They stopped when they saw us pull up.

Phil smiled when he saw me, but it looked tighter than usual. Like something inside of him had burst open. He slid off the car, and kissed my head.