In Riptides

20 | almost

N A T E 

There's something inherently soothing about the way the ocean winds down in the late afternoon. Not calm, really. Tired. Like it's been a good host for all the surfers and swimmers and fishermen, and now it's time to call it a day with the rest of us.

My board makes a line in the sand as I drag it under one arm, wetsuit peeled halfway down, salt still drying on my skin. The sun is starting to dip, the sky washed in that golden hour light that slowly shifts with streaks of color. Blake is still out in the water, but I cut my session short to scan the sand and do what's become a relentless habit at low tide.

My eyes are sharp and methodical as I search for those butterfly shells. I've still been quietly collecting them for her. Stupidly, maybe. As if I can just hand her a bunch of shells and somehow make things how they used to be. But I keep looking just in case. In the back of my mind, there's a voice telling me that if I find enough of them, I'll figure out what to say to her. Reach her without pushing too hard, without breaking whatever fragile thing still connects us.

And despite her not answering texts and going out of her way to avoid me, I still catch her looking at me sometimes. Deep in thought, in conflict. Connected by a thread so fine you can barely see it. But it's there.

I crouch down, brushing past driftwood and sea foam. Half-buried in the wet sand, I fish out a pale pink shell, letting the water clean it. Delicate but still intact.

"Nate?"

I glance up, my brain lagging for a second. Red hair in the wind, an unfamiliar sight in this setting.

"Rachel." I stand, cupping the shell at my side. "Hey."

She gives me an uncertain smile, and I'm doubting that this afternoon stroll to my regular surf spot is merely a coincidence. It's not like I've ever been her favorite person, being Lia's best friend has historically made her one of my harshest critics.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

She shifts her weight, arms folded loosely. "I know this is... probably weird. Me coming out here."

"Yeah. Little bit."

Her gaze drops to the sand, digging her toes in deep. Stalling.

"I'm worried about Lia," she finally says. "Like, really worried."

I straighten, the edges of my attention sharpening. "Did something happen?"

"No, not exactly. Nothing specific. But she's barely talking to me now. She says she's fine, but..." She exhales, glimpsing over the water. "She's not. You know she's not. And it's not just the rumors anymore, there's something else. I can't keep pretending I don't notice how much she's changing."

I nod slowly. "I know."

She looks at me again. "I thought maybe you'd know something. Or... I don't know, maybe she'd still listen to you."

I glance down at the shell, the pink catching the light. "Actually, I think Haley's the only one she's listening to."

"Haley. Yeah." Her mouth flattens like the name tastes bitter. "I'm kind of scared of her."

I let out a quiet laugh. "Like you're scared of me?"

"I'm not scared of you." She tilts her head. "Anymore."

"Right."

"But Haley... there's no light there, you know? It's like she's a void, and Lia's just getting sucked into it."

"Well, I've tried talking to her, Rachel. I feel like any time I get close it just pushes her further into the void."

Rachel tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression firming as she meets my eyes. "Look. I didn't like you in the beginning. You came into the picture and complicated things for her, and she got burned. But through all of it? Lia never doubted you. She was sure about wanting you in the picture."