summer romance (e.d.)

four

ethan

"guest house?" maddie smirks to me, pulling away from the heated kiss outside my house.

i grin at her under the moonlight, until i remember.

"we can't," i say bitterly. "there's a new golf cart girl that lives in there."

maddie scoffs. "who?"

i shrug. "don't really know, don't really care," i lean back down, but she pulls away.

"i... have to go," she says, looking apologetic.

"what? just because we can't hook up in the guest house?" i ask in bewilderment.

she sighs. "no—"

"just say you're in it for my body and go."

maddie looks away before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "call me if she moves out," she whispers quietly before slipping back out of the bushes and into the night.

i lean against the side of the house, sighing.

i hate the new girl. all she does it ruin things.

sneaking back in through the basement window sucks but i thought it'd be worth it tonight. guess not.

i have to tip-for through the house, trying not to wake up mean ms. valerie. she hates me and cameron but for some reason loves grayson.

he's my best friend, but i have no clue how everyone likes him. the kid's an idiot.

finally stepping into my room, i let out a breath of relief and immediately throw my hoodie off, leaving me shirtless.

and to think anna had the audacity to try to teach me how to golf when she doesn't even play herself.
her in general just angers me.

who does she think she is? living in our guest house like she owns the place?

i slip into my grey comforter and try to let sleep take over my body.

but it just doesn't.

whenever i feel like this, i have a very specific routine.

so, i climb out of bed and take a seat at my desk, facing the window. down below i see the beach that i once adored, but have now grown to hate.

i slide open my desk drawer and take out the only thing that resides in it.

it's a black, velvet bag filled with hundreds upon hundreds of seashells.

i dump them out onto my desk and count them one by one, using the moonlight streaming in as my only source of light.

after 150, my eyelids start to feel droopy. but, i push myself and count to 237.

by the time that's done, i feel at peace and just ready to sleep.

my dad helped me find all the seashells. we were on the road to 1,000, but we didn't quite make it there.

grayson always made fun of it, but he never understood. he had golf, i had seashells.

it's mildly stupid and definitely childish, but they bring me a sense of peace.

ever since last january, i haven't been on the beach.

it hurts to see the seashells poking out of the sand, waiting to be picked up, knowing that no one is going to be excited with you when you come home with a cool one.

i make my way back to my bed and close my eyes firmly. thinking about random things before bed always helps me fall asleep—

— so i think of my dad.