{18+ COMPLETED • COLLEGE ROMANCE}
When a college freshman with a learning disability and a reputation collides with a straight-A, straight-laced girl in the dorm kitchen one night, he sees the darkest parts of himself reflected in her. But the two o...
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M A D I E
November Tenth
four
"All the tearing emotion of the last few hours
seemed to fall away from her
like a somber, uncomfortable garment,
which she had but to loosen to be rid of."
-The Awakening, Kate Chopin
—
The chilly wind slapped against my cheeks, and it was more than just a breath of fresh air. It blasted me awake.
Those tangling gusts were always the coldest when the highway curved out toward the coastline. The first time the convertible pulled up alongside the blue expanse, I rested my head on the car door and watched it speed by. My hair whipped around like crazy, and I knew it would look far more ridiculous than Bren's by the time we made it to LA.
My cheeks hurt, either from my broad smile or the wind, but I'd welcome this kind of ache any day. I'd lived in California my whole life, but my hometown of South Lake Tahoe was as far inland as you could get in this state. And I'd never ridden in a convertible before.
Taking my eyes off the ocean and the little white crests that lined it, I peeked back at Bren. He faced forward, eyes presumably on the road. Though it was hard to tell for sure with his sunglasses on.
It gave me a minute to study Bren's handsome profile. Finally, I was able to admire it without feeling guilty. He wore his usual black hoodie and a contented little smile. Bren honestly didn't smile enough, and it was nice to see. One hand was tossed casually on the top of the steering wheel, and I'd never seen him look so relaxed.
The minute we drove out of Oakland, everything seemed to change for him. I supposed the feeling was mutual.
His head shifted slightly, and I could tell he was looking at me out of the corner of his eye. Or maybe he was looking at the ocean; I'm not sure. But his grin grew wider before turning back toward the road.
After that, Bren would occasionally exit from the inland highway to drive through coastal towns, and I'd stare out at the ocean every time. I particularly liked Monterey. The sea would swirl against the large jutting rocks, shooting upward in enormous splashes. The wildness of the rugged coastline called to me more than serene sandy beaches.
When we left Monterey, we drove over this bridge that stretched between two cliffs, and I swore the only thing above and below us was just blue—the untamed, deep ocean and the gentle white-blue sky. And in the middle of all that was us.
