In Riptides

26 | hurricane

L I A

When you've been under the prodding eyes of scrutiny for months on end, it's nice to feel untouchable.

Haley eyes me as we push through the liquor store doors, the bell chiming overhead. My heart is racing, but not in a scared way. Though my face hasn't gotten the memo.

"Don't look guilty," Haley mutters, already drifting toward the counter. She leans forward enough to show off her cleavage, asking the regular guy behind the register about cigarettes.

I move fast. Muscle memory. A bottle of vodka disappears into the lining of my oversized jacket, the weight of it taking up my whole head with the thought of not getting caught.

Haley pays for her cigarettes and we stroll out. The cold slaps my cheeks outside and I laugh, adrenaline fizzing through my bloodstream like carbonation.

"Holy shit," she says when I flash her the bottle. "You're actually getting good at this, angel-face."

"Just riding your criminal coattails," I say, my hands still shaking a little.

We twist the cap off as we walk to her house, passing the bottle between us. The vodka burns going down, warming me up in an instant. It somehow clears my head and mixes it up at the same time. Exactly what I want.

Haley wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Okay," she says. "Fuck, marry, kill."

She starts easy. Celebrities; people we'd never meet. And then fictional characters; people that don't exist. It's harmless and fun, my answers coming quick and automatic.

Then she takes another swig and slows down. "Matt. Nate. Zac."

The air changes.

"C'mon," I grumble, taking the bottle back.

It's funny how a stupid game suddenly feels like a test I didn't study for. Once upon a time, I would've answered automatically too.

"Well?" She nudges me with her shoulder. "Don't overthink it."

Too late.

"I plead the fifth."

She takes the bottle from me as soon as I've taken a sip. "Fine, then I'll just guess. Exes suck, and yours is the worst, so Matt's dead. And..." she clicks her tongue in thought. "Zac is obsessed with you, so... marry?"

"Please," I laugh, kicking a stone off the sidewalk. "In his dreams."

"Literally. I bet he's having wet dreams about you every night," she teases, and I scrunch my nose.

"Zac's fun, but it's not like I'm in love with him or anything."

Haley hums, swallowing another mouthful. "So that leaves Nate."

The sky ahead of us is brushing into night, the last threads of sunset pulling themselves apart. It makes me think of the beach. Of all the evenings I spent there with him, how time used to slow down when we watched the sun dip into the water.

I was there a few days ago. I hadn't planned on it; I had this urge and told myself I'd just pass by. That I wouldn't look.

He was in the water, sitting on his board behind the waves. I stood on the shore and wondered what he would do if I joined him. If I had my board, paddled out, slipped back into that version of us like it had only been a pause. A breath held too long.

I like to imagine he would've smiled and made a joke, picked up right where we left off. But that's a lie I tell myself because the truth is harder. He'd want to pry into my head and talk about everything. And after my birthday, I know he's close. He's circling those shattered pieces, something he can't quite see yet. He thinks if I don't say it out loud, it might not be too bad. That there's still a version of me who's salvageable. That whatever Matt didn't take is enough to build something from.