Girl Out of Water(86)

But when my gaze meets his, all that summer heat fades.

There’s no warmth in his eyes.

He smiles anyway. Kind of. A partial smile that doesn’t reach beyond the crick of his lips. “Hey, Anise.”

“Hey.” My voice barely comes out, so I clear my throat. “Hey. Hi.” I smile. “How are you?”

“Good. Great.”

It’s awful standing like this, a dozen feet separating us, staring at each other like strangers. No, strangers don’t look at each other like Eric is looking at me. I twist the hair tie around my wrist and then force myself to hug him. The hug is awkward and stiff, but at least he hugs me back.

“So,” I say and take a small step away. “How’s summer been? I missed you last night.”

He stares at me and then in a short tone says, “Yeah. Wasn’t in the mood.”

“Right,” I say. “I wanted to make sure you were okay… I mean, I wanted to make sure we were okay… I…I’m sorry.”

The silence stretches between us until Eric sighs. The sigh loosens the rigidity in his stance, the firmness in his gaze. He gestures at the couch that faces the ocean. We sit down next to each other.

“Look, Anise. I’m not mad at you. I’m—” He pauses, thinking. “I heard about Lincoln. You had every right to go off and meet someone. We kissed once. It’s not like we were dating. It’s not like we’d even discussed it.” Another pause. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been waiting for you. I thought we had something. And it was really hard when you had to leave for the summer. But I knew you’d be back. Except then you stopped talking to me. And I couldn’t—I don’t—understand why.”

“I know,” I say. “I felt the same way, but when I got to Nebraska, it was strange.” I try to figure out how to explain it. “It was like half of my world suddenly fell away, and even though I knew I’d be back in a couple of months, it didn’t feel that way. And then I met Lincoln and—” I hate myself as I feel a smile flickers to my lips. “Well, I met him. I wasn’t thinking about you... Oh shit. Not that I wasn’t thinking about you. That sounds horrible. I just meant—it wasn’t a choice between you or him because you weren’t there. I wasn’t here. I wanted to be back here with you guys so badly, but since I couldn’t… I guess it was easier to pretend you didn’t exist. Shit, that sounds bad again. That’s not what—”

“Anise, it’s okay.” He leans back on the couch and kind of laughs. “It would’ve been nice to stay in touch this summer, and obviously this would have been much easier if either of us had shared our feelings with each other, but we didn’t, and I get why it was hard, and we’re here now. And you’re with Lincoln. Whatever happens, we’ll always be friends. Well, as long as you return my text messages during all future disappearances. We’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” As relief washes over me, I realize just how scared I was of losing one of my best friends.

“Yes, of course.” He pulls the band out of his hair and plays with it. “I’m not saying it won’t be a little weird at first, but you’re one of my people, and I’m one of yours, and that’s never going to change, even if you date a thousand guys over me.”

I give a shaky laugh and wipe the few tears from my face. “A thousand?”

? ? ?

The rest of the apologies are less nerve-wracking but still take the majority of the afternoon. Most are a repetition of the following:

Me: I was an asshole.

Friend: You were an asshole.

Me: I’m sorry for being an asshole.

Friend: I forgive you for being an asshole.

Me: Want to go surf?

Friend: Yes.

I make a special apology to Cassie and Marie. I still can’t believe they’ll be gone so soon. Cassie accepts my apology instantly because she’s a million times nicer than me. Marie accepts too, even though I have to repeat I was an asshole a couple extra times for her. I’m already planning care packages to send them when they leave town.

It’s weird. I’m kind of glad I spent the summer in Nebraska, not only because I got to spend so much time with my family, but also because it was like a trial run for when my friends and I will all be in different places. What would’ve happened if I went out of touch with my friends for an entire year instead of a couple of weeks? The fix wouldn’t have been as easy. It might’ve been impossible.

It’s the last day of Surf Break now, and we’re all exhausted from endless hours of surfing and dancing and watching the amazing demos from visiting athletes. Once the tension cooled, Lincoln made fast friends with everyone, especially Spinner, who insisted Lincoln teach him how to skateboard. Maybe I’ll even spend some time at the skate park this year. I used to look down on skateboarders, but if they’re even a quarter as great as Lincoln, those are friends I want to have.

“Dude, we so don’t have enough marshmallows,” Tess says, dropping about a dozen bags of marshmallows on the table we’re setting up with hot dog buns, chips, and drinks. Like I promised at the beginning of summer, I’m hosting the end of Surf Break bonfire.

“Tess, we literally have enough marshmallows for the entire festival. I think we’re going to be okay.”