New Romantics

Chapter 23

A party on a North Atlantic beach in October did not sound very ideal in theory. But then again, I jumped head-first into the frigid water not much earlier. Standing on the sidewalk that separated the safety of campus from the small patch of grass that led onto the beach, a shiver dripped between my shoulder blades as memories of that fateful day replayed in my mind.

The chill under my layers had nothing to do with the cold, evening breeze.

I recalled the way Dani, Sasha, and I galloped onto the sand without a care in the world. I felt the shock of the water on my skin. The confusion. The way it felt like something wrapped around my ankles—a sea monster, a demon, a ghost—and dragged me under. And I remembered how, just for a moment, when fear wrapped around my throat and my body fought viciously for air, the small thread of acceptance that bled through my mind at the thought of death.

That scared me most of all.

It was the lack of oxygen, I told myself. I searched the deepest parts of me for days after. The acceptance was a fluke. A hallucination from the lack of oxygen.

Another shiver.

I never wanted to feel that way again.

Leo's fingers threaded through mine. Leaning in, he said, softly, "We don't need to go if you're not comfortable."

"I am," I replied, my voice hoarse from the cold wind. I tugged on the edges of the windbreaker he gave me to wear over my sweatshirt. Why couldn't the tradition be a party inside a lovely, warm building? "I'm just, uh, nervous about meeting your friends."

Brushing his lips over my temple, Leo squeezed my hand. "You've met some of them."

"In passing. I don't think dropping you off when you were drunk out of your mind counts as meeting them properly."

"They might be the drunk ones this time," he replied with a small smile. "But they're a good group of guys. I wouldn't invite you here if I didn't think so."

The tightness in my chest eased slightly. "That makes me feel better."

Holding my hand and anchoring my anxious thoughts, Leo guided me one step forward, then two, then three. We walked slowly across the sand, the seagulls and ocean waves creating a soft roar in my ears. Breathe. Just breathe, I reminded myself, the words turning into a mantra I clung to for dear life.

"We don't need to go anywhere near the water," Leo said as we neared the party. Long strings of lights adored the volleyball nets at the center of the beach, many of the nets removed for the season, the silver metal beams housing a variety of drinks and tables beneath them. Apparently, frat boys knew of things other than cheap beer and jungle juice. At the center of the party, an assortment of chairs and logs surrounded a campfire, the plucks of a guitar filtering over the chatter. This didn't feel like the DTE parties that became synonymous with OU.

That was, of course, until cheers erupted from the two beer-pong tables on the outskirts of the fire, followed by chanting,

"Chug! Chug! Chug!"

This isn't so bad.

The last bits of sunset painted the horizon bright orange and purple against the frothy white and navy waters. I averted my eyes. There was no way I'd let myself spiral here. Not with all of these people. Not when this was my first date with Leo.

Leo, who touched my hip tentatively, and stepped closer. "Can I get you a drink?"

I dug the heel of my sneakers into the sand. Shyness crept over my cheeks in a blush. Leo's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Yes, thank you."