Page 3 of Ripple Effect

Drained and heavy with the aftermath, I tug my clothing back into place, the cold fabric clinging to my sweaty skin. I close the laptop, severing the final connection to Everett’s world for the night.

Back in the realm of reality, I’m Elio again. I’m just a student, a dog owner, a brother, and a part-time friend. A person trying to make it through another day relatively unscathed.

Bentley’s soft whine echoes outside my door, and I stand, stretching the stiffness from my body. It’s late, and as much as I want to collapse onto my bed and escape into sleep, I have one more promise to keep.

With a final look at my switched-off laptop, I open my bedroom door, stepping out into the living room. Bentley’s ears perk up, his tail wagging as he springs to his feet, ready for some long-promised attention.

I absentmindedly run my fingers through his fur, and the anxious buzz finally goes quiet, the divide between my two selves blurs until I’m just me again.

“Alright, buddy, time for bed,” I murmur, dropping down to his level. His large brown eyes gaze up at me, understanding and affection reflecting back in them.

And as the late-night quiet settles around the two of us, I boost Bentley up onto the edge of my mattress. His soft snores fill the room while I tuck myself in, a comforting reminder of the simple, real parts of my life.

The tiny slices of truth that I hold on to, desperately hoping they might ground me.

2

DAISY

“Yes, that’s it,”I murmur to myself, gripping tightly to my board, ice-cold salt water surging around me. Despite the early hour and the misty chill, there’s a massive grin on my face and laughter in my voice. It’s not even five in the morning yet, but I’m back in the ocean now, exactly where I belong.

The wave crests under me, and I rocket forward, feeling invincible. As the water barrels past, my heart thumps wildly against my ribcage, the thrill of a perfect ride coursing through me. The taste of the ocean spray fills my mouth, salty and nostalgic.

It may sound strange, but this right here is my idea of heaven.

The wave subsides, leaving me bobbing on the gentle swells, my body thrumming with adrenaline. I glance back at the horizon, soaking in the pretty pinks of the lingering sunrise, when someone shouts my name.

I turn on my board to see a group of my new friends waving at me from the shoreline. Raising a hand in acknowledgment, I continue on, knowing I’ll catch up with them once I’ve had my fill of the surf.

I’ve only been at Coastal U for a few weeks now, having transferred in as a junior from Dayton, but it already feels like home. Between the pretty beaches, their top-notch marine biology program, and the welcoming people I’ve met, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

As a wave pulls me back, I paddle out further, my muscles straining, aching to keep my rhythm.

Back at my old school, I’d been landlocked and desperately missed the ocean. I grew up in a beach town not too far from here. And as far back as I can remember, this has been my therapy, my escape, my happy place.

Another wave builds behind me, and a quick glance over my shoulder tells me it’s a good one. Without wasting another second, I reposition my board and paddle to meet the wave head-on. As it lifts me, I pop up to stand, finding my balance as the world blurs around me.

The wave propels my board toward the shore, the wind whooshing past me, carrying my laughter along with it. This is freedom, I think, unadulterated fucking joy. My heart soars with each moment that I’m out here, each second that I move with the water.

Eventually, my wave runs its course, depositing me near the shoreline where my friends have all congregated. I grab my board and wade the rest of the way in, my smile never wavering.

Barefoot, I pad my way across the sun-warmed sand to where they’re gathered, the rhythmic crashing of waves filling the silence. I drop my board a few paces away and stretch my arms above my head, sore as hell from the morning surf.

Sadly, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to get out there, and I’m no longer used to the constant muscle fatigue. It feels good, though. A familiar sort of pain that lights me up from the inside out.

Once I finish my lackluster attempt to stretch, there’s a bottle of water thrust into my hand. I gratefully accept it, taking a long, refreshing sip. Then I flop down onto a towel spread across the sand, the damp fabric sticking to my skin.

I’ve always been energized by big social groups, a quiet sort of extrovert, and moving to Coastal has only opened up a new avenue for friendships. I think it’s in my nature to be drawn to crowds or something.

And the bunch I find myself surrounded by now—Max, LJ, and Gracie—are an assorted mix of personalities that blend perfectly together.

“You looked like a fucking queen out there, Daisy, as per usual,” says Max, the oldest of the group. He’s a grad student with a penchant for sarcasm and a habit of showing off his abs at every possible opportunity.

His girlfriend, LJ, sits beside him. With her soft, auburn hair and love for morning yoga, she’s as fiery as she is flexible. And then there’s Gracie, my new roommate, so tiny and sweet, her demeanor as calming as the ocean we all love.

“This has been a blast, guys. But I need to get back to the real world now.” Max gestures wildly, his dark eyes wide with exasperation. “You know, if I didn’t have Khatri as an advisor this year, I’d surely fucking lose it,” he says, and I can’t help but giggle at his theatrics.

Next to him, LJ rolls her eyes, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Max, you need to chill. How about joining me for a class tomorrow? We’re focusing on inversions this week.”

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