by Mindy Hayes
While I appreciate Skylar’s interest in real answers, I disregard him and narrow my eyes at Brodee. “You say all of those things like they’re cons. What’s wrong with working out or playing football? Not all football players are dumb jocks.”
“But I can tell you where he falls.” Brodee chuckles, glancing at Skylar who shares a look. If their eyes could high five, they would. Then Brodee continues, “Tyler’s a total kook, talks like he knows what he’s doing on the water, but that’s all he is. Talk. He’s your classic rich kid. Son of a dentist.”
Do I hear a hint of jealousy? While I know he’s just teasing me, it pushes me over the edge. I’m not sure why I feel like I need to defend Tyler so fiercely, but it’s really ticking me off that Brodee is tearing into him. Tyler’s never done anything to him.
“Tyler’s dad is no different than yours,” I cut Brodee off. “Hounding him about schoolwork, riding his butt, making choices for him, except his dad actually makes him work for his school tuition. It’s not just handed to him on a gold platter.”
That shuts him up and not in a good way. Hurt flashes across Brodee’s eyes. I wish I’d never said anything. Why did I throw that in his face?
“Tell us how you really feel, Peyton.” Skylar laughs awkwardly.
The whole vibe shifts. Harper tries to laugh, but it falls flat. I’ve had enough of the rooftop talk. I move to get up from my recliner.
“I’m sorry, Pete,” Brodee says genuinely. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I sigh. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” And it is. I just want to drop it. I don’t want to talk about Tyler anymore. “I’m sorry, too. I’m gonna go to bed.”
Brodee snatches my hand as I pass him. His thumb softly rubs the top of my hand. My thoughts jumble. I can’t remember why I was so upset. “You know I was just playing, right? I didn’t mean it, Pete,” he whispers.
“I know.” I nod and pull my hand away. Brodee’s tender touch confuses me more. “G’night, guys.”
WHEN WE GET up in the morning, all is forgotten. Or at least everyone pretends that I didn’t have a little freak out moment. I slept horribly, though. Harper came to bed about twenty minutes after I did. I pretended to be asleep, but I couldn’t have been less tired. A creeping ache filled my chest, but I couldn’t place it. Until I did, and then I couldn’t help but miss my dad like crazy.
Sometimes his loss hits me out of nowhere. I can be fine one minute and curled in the fetal position the next. Grief is funny like that. Not in the funny ha-ha way, but the unexpected, cruel kind. It feels like I’ll never get a hold on mine.
So, when I finally fell asleep around three and was woken up at seven by Brodee to go surfing, I was less than ready to get out of bed. When I pulled back the covers, he tossed them off and wouldn’t let me have them back. He nearly died.
The four of us are headed to Buxton now with Brodee at the wheel. He’s lucky I let him live. Skylar borrowed one of Brodee’s millions of boards. That kid collects surfboards the way Harper does wigs. He has a different reason why he needs each one of them. And I get it. Each wave is different. Sometimes the surf requires a different kind of board, but I love my baby. I learned on her and can’t imagine surfing on anything else. It’s a miracle I haven’t busted her with all the wipeouts I’ve survived.
The sun feels hotter today than most. We’re out in the oceans for hours. It’s been so long since the four of us have gone out together I think we want to soak up as much time as we can. By the end of it I’m wiped out. Lack of sleep, the heat, exertion from the waves. I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
After grabbing lunch, Brodee drives us back, and it takes everything in me not to fall asleep in the front seat. Even if I could sleep, he wouldn’t let me. Brodee keeps poking me in the shoulder.
“Poke me one more time,” I warn, only half-joking. My eyes are closed as I lean my head against the headrest. “I dare you.”
Poke.
I pause. I hear him chuckling to himself. “If you weren’t driving, you’d regret that.”
“So, are you saying I’m safe while I drive?”
I level a stare. “After that, all bets are off.”
“Noted.” He bites his lips to hold back a smug grin. I nearly smack it off.
A minute later he sticks his finger in my ear.
“Oh my gosh.” I throw my hands down and shift in my seat to get a good angle to punch him. “You’re gonna get it.”
“Don’t poke the bear, Brodee. You know better,” Harper says from the back seat. “Especially since you’re driving, and I’d like to live to see tomorrow. I choose life!”
“But it’s so much fun.”
I hold back my punch. Rationally, I see how stupid it would be to punch the driver of the vehicle in which I’m traveling.
Harper says, “Not when the bear is tired and could tear your head off with one look.”
He chuckles. “I just can’t help myself.”
“The big tormenting brother in him can’t be suppressed,” I murmur, leaning away from him, my head tapping on the passenger window. The tapping doesn’t even bother me this time. I don’t remember falling asleep.
“PEYTON.” A LOW voice rouses me from my sweet sweet release as a hand rocks my shoulder. “Pete.” I open my eyes to see Brodee’s face above mine. “You slept the day away.”
I blink, but I don’t try to get up. I’m laying on the couch in the living room, but I can tell it’s dark outside. “What time is it?”
“A little after ten.” The corner of his mouth lifts up.
Seriously? “Where are Harper and Skylar?” I rub my eyes.
“They’re just as bad as you. Tuckered out on me about an hour ago.” He stands up and walks over to the TV, flipping it on. “You sleep like the freaking dead. You even slept through dinner. I was so tempted to jump on you, but Liv wouldn’t let me wake you up.”
“It must’ve been the sun. And I would have punched you so hard.” I stretch my arms above my head.
He lets out a low chuckle. “I know. Let’s watch a movie.”
I lazily pick myself off the couch and head to the kitchen to get the taste of sleep out of my mouth. “You pick. I’m too tired to make any decisions.”
“You can’t be tired. You just slept for like ten hours, and we have a movie marathon ahead of us.”
I really did sleep the day away. “A marathon?” I laugh and walk back in with a glass of orange juice. “It’s ten o’clock.”
“The night is young. We can do whatever we want. Besides, we have to make up for the time you lost today. The summer is dwindling fast. We’ve got to soak up every minute before the semester starts.”
I don’t want to think about school starting. School starting means no more summer. It means no more Brodee. It means real life begins. And I’m not ready for any of that.
Brodee picks a comedy, and even though the couch is completely empty, he chooses to sit right beside me with the popcorn he popped. His thigh grazes mine, and it’s like my body has never felt his touch before, igniting a livewire that tingles every inch of my body. But it doesn’t seem to faze him. He doesn’t flinch or subtly try to move away. Neither do I. Because why should I? It doesn’t mean anything. We’re just best friends watching a movie like we’ve done millions of times before. I’m the one making it weird. It’s not weird. It’s nothing. Stop making it weird.
I ease more comfortably into the couch as the previews begin. Brodee gazes over at me. “You missed out on playing in the waves with us when we got back.” He lifts his arm along the back of the couch behind me. “Or I should say you were missed.” I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t have the guts to meet his eyes. I don’t know what I’ll see there. Or maybe I don’t want him to see what my eyes may convey. I’m still trying to breathe through our touching thighs.
“We can play tomorrow. I’ll feel better then. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Yeah? Why not?” he softly asks.
“Just…thinking about my dad.”
He reaches his arm around and tugs me close to his side. “I miss him too.”
We don’t say anything more because the movie starts. The popcorn bowl sits in his lap, so I have to lean into him every time and reach for a handful. He chuckles, carefree, at every little humorous part in the movie. Brodee’s laugh echoes throughout the house. I want to bottle his laughter to savor it and release it when the world needs it most.
My nap didn’t revive me. Or I guess it was more of a coma. My coma didn’t revive me. If anything, it made me more tired. Halfway through the movie I feel my eyes closing, but I fight back for as long as I can.
“Here.” I look to Brodee as he moves the empty popcorn bowl to the floor and shifts away from me. “Lay down.” He places a pillow on his lap and pats.
I hesitate. It’s not like we’re cuddling. I’m just resting my head on his lap to sleep. We’ve done this hundreds of times before. Calm your nerves, Peyton.
“I can tell you’re still tired, but I’m not finishing this movie alone. Lay down,” he orders.
I’m too tired to argue, so I do the only thing I can. I nestle into the couch and rest my head on his welcoming lap. At first he doesn’t know what to do with his arms until I feel a soft tug at my scalp. Brodee gently runs his fingers through my hair. Utter bliss. If he doesn’t want me to sleep, this is not going to help matters. My eyes flutter closed, and the haze of sleep takes me away.
THE PILLOW SHIFTS under me, waking me.
“Sorry,” Brodee murmurs. The TV is off now, and the room is dark. “I was trying to get up without waking you.”
I sit up too fast and hold my head, sleep still heavily weighing it down.
Once he stands, he offers me a hand. I slip mine in his, but blackness flashes in my eyes when I stand up too swiftly, causing me to fall forward. Brodee grabs me, placing a hand on my arm and the other around my waist to steady me.
“Whoa there, Grace.”
“Sorry,” I mumble and let him hold me until I don’t feel so dizzy and can see straight. It takes me longer than it normally should because I feel his touch all the way down in my ankles. They wobble and tingle. Stupid weak ankles. When I open my eyes, Brodee doesn’t make an attempt to let me go. He’s only inches from my face. His fingers touch the skin of my back between my shirt and shorts where the material has ridden up.
“You all right?” His voice is low, husky, and I can’t stop the shiver that begins at the base of my spine. Our proximity and his hand touching my bare skin, mixed with the stillness of the night—the moon and stars as our only source of light—suddenly the air between us is too thick to breathe.
The words get stuck in my throat. “I’m fine.” After “fine” passes my lips I wish I could take it back. Fine is the universal sign for women not being fine in any context.
His eyes unhurriedly drift over my face and land on my lips, leaving me defenseless. Ever so subtly he bites his bottom lip, and I’m a goner. Putty in his hands. If he leans in, my self-control cannot be held accountable. As of now, I have none.
“Peyton,” he whispers. Our bodies are so intimately close I can feel his warm breath on my face. “We should go to bed.” His words don’t convince me until he steps back awkwardly.
I nod fervently. “Yeah.” I back up out of his arms and rest my hands on my hips, attempting to act more casual than I feel. “I’m exhausted. I really need to go to sleep. I’m just gonna grab a glass of water first.” I head toward the kitchen so I don’t have to look at him.
“Night,” he says hoarsely.
When Brodee disappears up the stairs I fall back against the counter, out of breath. HO-LY. CRAP.
It’s not just me. He feels it too, right? Or am I just imagining things because I feel it so strongly? That has to be it. I’ve officially caught the train to Crazy Town.
How’s the distancing yourself working out there, Peyton?
I need to try harder.
“WHAT TIME ARE you guys leaving tomorrow?” I curl onto my side in bed and face Harper.
She groans and stretches her arms above her head. I decided to wake her up earlier than normal today with it being our last day together.
“I think we’re gonna get up early and go so we can make it home before it gets dark.”
“I wish you guys could stay longer.”
“Trust me,” Harper says, flipping onto her side to face me. “I would much rather stay in paradise than spend a week in Minnesota with my entire family. This reunion might be the death of me. Don’t forget to remember me if I don’t survive.”
“If you die, who am I supposed to hang out with at USC? It’ll be so boring.”
“Ha-ha.” She lightly kicks my shins under the covers. “What are we gonna do today?”
“Let’s go find out.” We hop out of bed in search of the boys. “They’ve been up since, like, eight playing video games. It’s going to be a struggle to pull them away.”
“Morning,” I greet my mom and Nick who are in the kitchen milling around. They weren’t up when I came down earlier. Tate must still be sleeping.
“Good morning,” they say in unison, offering a smile.
Brodee and Skylar are in the zone in the living room. I don’t even think they noticed we walked into the room until Harper says, “Hey, bums, what’s the plan today?” and squeezes beside Skylar and the armrest, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“The beach, beach, and more beach,” Brodee replies, concentrating on the TV.
“Well, then let’s go to the beach! Shut this off, and let’s get out of here.” Harper grabs the controller from Skylar and attempts to end the game. “You can play video games anytime.”
“Hey! C’mon, babe. I was just about to annihilate Brodee,” he groans and throws his arms up in defeat.
Brodee pumps his fist in the air with a Chewbacca howl. I can’t help my giggle. Every time. He shoots me a smirk before shouting at Skylar, “Ha! Suck it!”
“Don’t get too cocky, Fisher. I’d have killed you, if Harper hadn’t intervened.”
“And it’s a good thing I did. The party will be leaving in ten minutes.” She gets up and saunters toward me.
I have one foot on the bottom stair when my mom’s voice stops me. “What are you doing with that?” Though it’s quiet, her tone is sharp. At first I think she’s talking to me, but it wouldn’t make sense. I don’t have anything. When I turn, I see her staring at Nick, her body rigid.
My eyes travel to him standing near the fridge, leaning his back against the countertop. He has a mug halfway to his lips, but it’s not just any mug. It’s a fairly significant mug. It’s my dad’s mug. The one I made for him when I was in eighth grade. The one my dad used every morning while we vacationed here.
Nick slowly lowers it and looks at the surfboard I engraved into the side of the ceramic with ‘Dad’ written inside of the shape. He opens his mouth, not understanding her distress at first. Then it dawns on him. They exchange looks I don’t follow.
“I’m sorry, Liv. I didn’t think.” He holds it out to her, and she swipes the mug from his hands. “I just grabbed the first mug I—”
“No. You didn’t think.” Her voice is strained. She takes the mug to the sink and pours his coffee down the drain.
“You know I’d never…” Nick trails off; his eyes drift over to us watching the conversation go down. We all take that as our cue to quietly creep up the stairs.
Brodee and Skylar part from us at the top of the stairs with looks of apprehension as Harper and I walk into my room to change into our suits.
When I close the door Harper says, “Well, that was awkward. It’s just a mug. Why is she so upset?” She sounds more confused than anything else, so I don’t take offense.
Harper obviously couldn’t see what I saw and doesn’t understand the significance. “It was my dad’s mug,” I say quietly as I take my black bathing suit out of the top drawer of my dresser.
“Oh.” She dig
s in her duffle bag for her bikini. Carefully, she asks, “Do you think she overreacted a little bit?”
I don’t answer right away because I can’t decide. My mom has never scolded Nick like that before. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure I’ve seen them argue openly.
“I dunno. Maybe. After the years of friendship they’ve shared, a part of me thinks Nick should’ve known better, but at the same time it’s hard to gauge what’s going to set her off. And I honestly don’t think he was paying attention.”
“Did it bother you to see him using it?”
I shrug. “A little, yeah.”
“Maybe you should take the mug out of the kitchen. I wouldn’t have known not to use it.”
“No. It’s fine.” I see how silly it might sound to an outsider, being upset over a piece of pottery. And my mom didn’t need to take it from him and dump his coffee down the drain. That may have been taking it a bit far. “It is just a mug.”
“But it means something to you and your mom.”
It does. “Yeah. She probably took care of it though. I doubt anyone will use it again.”
Today is clearly leaning toward a not-so-great day for my mom if she let something like that affect her so easily. It’s always hard to decide if she needs space or if I should go to her on days like this. I toy with idea of trying to talk to her. I’d understand if she wants to be left alone. I know there’s nothing I can say to help her or make her feel better. I know because there’s nothing anyone can say to me either. I’ve simply learned to live through the days, breathe through the pain.
There’s nothing more that I want to do now than to get out of the house and relax on the shore all day.
AS WE LAZE around the beach in Rodanthe and surf, the only thing I can think about is how much I want this to last. It’s not the big moments I want. It’s this. Watching Brodee and Skylar skimboard and laugh as they biff it, looking to us to see if we witnessed it. And Harper reading a magazine beside me on her stomach, her feet swinging back and forth in the air, while I read one of my dad’s old books. The comfort I feel with our solidarity.