Page 55 of The Summers of Us

I didn’t know if sense was a potion I knew how to brew. “I’ll try. When I asked her about it at the beach last month, she insisted she was happy so I’ve kind of left it. I didn’t want to be overbearing. Part of me thought maybe it was normal.”

“It’s not. I don’t know what makes people chase chaos.”

Chasing chaos was exhausting, but things were changing as we were getting older. Old enough now to have grown out of flat fruit punch. If I was old enough to be at this party, I should have been old enough to grow out of my own anti-love potion. Forget that we’d elected to sit on the swing set during a house party.

I broke away from my gaze to look at Everett in some silent, grateful way for being so good. So not Chance. SoEverett. It was crazy how my heart pounded—inappropriate, almost, after talking about something so serious.

Instead of making another moon jelly mistake, I said, “You’re nothing like him.”

Everett didn’t respond, simply sat in the moment before pointing to a cloud. “That cloud looks like a sea turtle giving a thumbs up.”

The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate wispy dark gray clouds that struck the otherwise clear night.

“I don’t see it,” I teased.

The exchange was simple, something we’d done for years, sending each other pictures when we thought we saw something more in a cloud. It was our way to keep in touch when I was back in Raleigh, so I could still see the Piper Island clouds, even when I couldn’t share the view with him.

“Then what is it?”

“A baseball glove.”

“I don’t think so.” He gave me a crooked smile. He was bashful, tranced, reeling from my words sweeter than fruit punch. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What, I’m the best at finding shapes in the clouds?” I asked, stuck in my own trance on the shapes in the sky.

“I still have the bouncy ball I got on the day we met.”

His words plucked me from my trance. If I’d been drinking, surely this would have been the moment that I doubled over and vomited everything on the grass. Even without alcohol, I was sick on whatever he was trying to say, sick from how his voice went from silly to serious without a moment’s notice.

I looked at him with furrowed brows. “From the Boardwalk arcade?”

He nodded. “I wasn’t scared of Tsunami that day.”

I thought I already knew that, but why was he telling me now? “Why didn’t you ride it with the twins?”

“I wanted to stay with you, see if you really were too good to be true.”

I was back in the suffocating pine forest inside. Every branch closed in and stuck to my skin all wrong. I wanted to run away from the forest, live in the landlocked middle of nowhere instead. My head spun. I busied myself with my too-warm fruit punch so I didn’t have to come up with a response.

“You’re real. I’ve never been able to get over that.”

But I wastooreal. Hadn’t that always been the problem? Too real. Too wounded. Too scared.

“Quinn, tell me why I can’t get rid of the bouncy ball.”

Everett softened his face.

Moved his swing closer to mine.

Stole a glance at my lips.

I pulled back when realization hit me. He was trying to kiss me. I sharpened prickly eyes at him. Pulled my swing from his with my foot. The chains groaned in disapproval.

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head as his own realization hit. “I thought—”

He didn’t finish the thought.

What did you think? What have you seen in the mysterious clouds of me?

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