The Truth About That Summer

forty-one

The current sweeps my limp limbs to and fro, tugging my body in every which direction, rolling me again and again in the roaring waves.

Instinctually, my head thrashes to the surface, gulping for air, but instead I find pouring rain, the sky so dark it's hard to tell where the sky ends and the sea begins. The ocean roars in my ears, reminding me how quickly it will devour me whole.

Salt water stings my palms and burns my lungs as another wave throws me to the bottom in a tangle of limbs, my skin scratching against the pebbled sand below.

It doesn't take long for the edges of my vision to blur, for my mind to begin fading to black.

And it's quiet, so peacefully quiet.

So fucking peaceful.

Something else besides the water grips my bicep tightly, so tightly the pain jerks me into semi-consciousness. I'm dragged through the water, like a fish caught on a line, until I'm finally pulled through the surface and slammed across a hard board.

"Dylan? Dylan, can you hear me?"

The voice is far away, overpowered by the rainstorm and the thunder of the ocean, and my loosening hold on consciousness.

"Hold on, Dylan. Just hold on. I've got you."

Everything gets dark again, and it's like I'm overlooking the scene instead of living it.

For a few moments, there's only grunting and the thrashing of waves. And then rough sand against my calves as I'm pulled to shore.

"Dylan?"

A warmth leaning in close to my body. I'm rolled onto my side and then there'a three hard thuds against my back.

"Come on, Dylan!" A pause.

An even more intense warmth on my mouth, forcing air in my lungs. A pressure against my chest, forcing the salty water out of me. It burns my throat as I cough and sputter, finally gasping for air.

Body depleted of energy, my face hits the sand as I continue to suck in deeply, struggling to open my eyes in the rain.

"Dylan, are you alright?" Someone turns me over, holding me close to their body.

Blinking raindrops and ocean water from my lashes, I squint up at my rescuer.

"Luke," It hurts to speak.

"Oh, thank God." Luke clutches me to his chest like precious cargo. "You don't get to fucking leave me... Not you too, Dyl. Not you too."

He wraps me in his arms, holding me in place on his lap as he nestles my head into his neck.

Too exhausted to move, I melt into his warmth, my mind completely blank. I am numb, every part of me just... off.

"Fuck, Dylan, you're so cold." Luke's voice is horrified. "Come on, let's go."

I don't move. Patiently, Luke scoops me into his arms, the same way I've seen him do to Finn, and carries me to his truck, parked in the sand.

Had I not seen it before?

"Stay here." Luke murmurs, placing me in the passenger side and clicking me into my seatbelt.

Unable to do anything else, I oblige.

He returns to grab his surfboard, his shirtless body shiny in the downpour. I close my eyes and within a moment, he's back.

Blasting the heat, Luke pulls a thin shirt over his torso. Then staring at me intensely, his eyes search my face for answers I'll never have.