Ocean Blue ✓

chapter six

alyssa

When I finally find Tanner, he's towelling off next to Jace. Jace is a stocky wrestling and/or football guy, all thick limbs and broad shoulders. He gives me this chill nod that in no way matches my current mood, but I try and nod back. I've stopped crying, and with how dark it is, no way will anyone be able to tell I shed a tear in the first place.

"Hey, Tan, do you think we could maybe get going home?" I ask, once again running my fingers through my ponytail. They snag little knots briefly, then tear through. "I'm a little tired."

If Tanner tries to say no or argue with me, I'm going to scream. Like a menstrual banshee. I didn't want to come to this stupid beach. I wanted to stay in and watch subpar Netflix rom-coms, and sketch poor cartoon Noah Centineos and Kristine Froseths and Jordan Fishers. Maybe even make a cup or two of coffee and embrace disgustingly poor caffeine habits at a disgustingly poor time of day. But, no, I just had to come to the beach, to this party. To make friends. To try and prove to me that I didn't ruin everything, that there's something to look forward to in this god-forsaken hell hole.

My dad and brother don't seem to understand that my life would be so much easier if I were just allowed to hermit-out.

Tanner cocks his head. "How tired?"

"Dude, I'm actually really tired," I say, hoping he gets it. Has he seen my texts? I don't know if he's seen my texts. You would think that, with us being twins, he'd be able to sniff the air and know something is wrong. But, Tanner is kind of the worst with picking up on little hints. No telepathy here.

Eyebrows raised in the feverish light of the bonfire, he shrugs. Thank. God. He bends down, reaches into the tote bag we brought, and tosses the keys at me. I miss them—they land in the coarse sand next to me. I awkwardly squat to pick them up, and then I'm off. I don't even know if Tanner gives Jace a proper goodbye. All that matters is he catches up to me within seconds, and I'm grateful for it.

"Okay, for real, what's up?" he whispers as we walk past a group of guys play-wrestling in the sand whilst girls cheer and cajole from the side. He's got our bag slung over his bare shoulder, and is struggling to dry his messy hair as we walk.

Everything seems too close. Too much. The sea glints menacingly in my periphery, and I force down several breaths. "Nothing. I just need out of here."

He lets out a little puff of air. "Fine, whatever." He definitely doesn't believe me, but fine, whatever—I didn't want to come here, but he and Dad asked me to. The least he could do is be chill.

Once we're in the car, Tanner asks "You sure you're good?" as he buckles in. I adjust the rearview mirror, fiddling with it, as if I'll be able to find that perfect sweet spot in an ancient car in the dark. At least Tanner and I are both the same height, meaning I don't have to fight with the stubborn driver's seat.

"I'm fine," I assure him. I can tell that it sounds too tense, too strained, but I don't care. I'm fine. Or, at least, I'll be fine, as soon as we're home.

-

"I hate it when you're like this," Tanner mutters as we walk up the stoop. He bounds; I trudge. "All moody. Dark. 'I'm gonna chip my navy blue nail polish and cry to deep music. I—"

"Stahp it," I say nice and light, trying to sound better than I feel. My hands gripped the steering wheel disgustingly tight on the way home, and the whole way, I couldn't concentrate. Tanner was blasting his girl in red playlist, and all I could think of was how Max and I really did fall in love in October, and it was just very, very hard not to cry. I hate driving anyways, but this was a particularly torturous drive.