Ocean Blue ✓

chapter nineteen

elliot

Tanner is hardly speaking, which is both weird as well as kinda fine, because I'm more than certain Neema is compensating for our shared lack of talking.

She's asking all kinds of questions about Minnesota and why the Hargreaves moved and what kind of extracurricular activities do he and Alyssa like and do you think ketchup with hot dogs really make them grilled Nirvana or was that just a stupid question and did you take the PSAT anyways?, and I'm kinda glad for it.

It's giving me distraction from the whole "Alyssa being alone with Duncan and Taffy and Brooklin" debacle, which I'm sure isn't actually a debacle anyplace outside of my head, but is still just as terrifying. What if they say something mean? To her, or to Duncan, or about me? I'm glad it's Duncan going and not Neema, at least. Neema would literally rip someone's head off with words alone, and enjoy it. And with Taffy and Brookin, she wouldn't even need prompting.

It's not that I think the two of them will be mean. Not exactly. Just, they're prone to drinking irresponsibly at house parties. Drinking on the Front itself is one thing, because there's often the potential for a random police check-in where being absolutely hammered is not a good idea. But where they're protected, off the beach? They're the epitome of drunkards. And if the two of them are fairly toxic off alcohol, the two of them on it are ... so not good.

I don't want to admit it, but they can behave terribly at times. Alcohol does them no favors.

"Hey," comes Duncan's voice from behind us. After Alyssa and he had taken a basement stroll, we'd moved out onto the benches of the back patio, which was semi-crowded but nowhere near as bad as the inside of the house. It's also quiet enough to actually hear the person next to you, which is a definitive perk.

I can't help whirling around too quickly. "Hey, how'd it go?"

Alyssa looks noticeably pale, and at first, I wonder if they said anything awful or crazy to her. Then, I notice her legs are shaking slightly. I scooch over and put my arm on the back of the bench. "You want a seat?" I ask her. If she tails out here, I will die. And it's not even me growing the giant ouchy appendage.

"Thanks." She slides in next to me, clasping her hands together and staring at her knees.

"You okay?" I murmur.

She looks over at me, and the way the sun has set just enough to make her hair look pink and her eyes soft drives me crazy immediately. She's so pretty. How is she so pretty?

"I'm okay," she says, "but thanks."

"Were they nice?" Neema asks as Duncan wedges himself into the corner right next to her. Their bodies press together immediately. As he wraps one arm around her waist and brings her against his chest, I avert my gaze. I wish I had that with somebody. All the time, really, but especially in moments like this, moments that the PDA police would gasp over but hesitate to stop. It just feels so pure and intimate and, goddammit, I need a girlfriend or something.

"They were dicks," Alyssa says. I snap my gaze back to hers, legitimately surprised, and immediately ashamed. "I'm sorry, Elliot. I didn't know they were so awful. Or homophobic."

"Oh, they're homophobic," Tanner mutters. "They're swim girls, yeah? Jace said he's positive that's the group of girls who were tearing up shit on Instagram this morning."

Alyssa closes her eyes. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Tan."

"It's fine." His voice is tense and high, though, and I can tell that it's not fine.

"Wait," Neema says, "that was you? The ... oh, man, I'm sorry. That is literally so disgusting."

"It's fine," he repeats.