Page 76 of The Summers of Us

I thought of one thing only while Mason tried to steer Holden off his tube. One thing while Haven and I danced in the wind. One thing the entire seafood dinner, even as the water outside changed from blue to white to orange with the setting sun.

Everett.

I perched myself on a cushion on the bow, legs folded under me, hyper-aware of how I looked. I imagined myself how Everett would. Was my tank top billowy enough when I was dancing? Did summer bring my light brown freckles back to life? Was my wind-spun ponytail casually cute or just a mess? Did I look mysterious behind my sunglasses?

Everett and Kelsie had broken up last Christmas, so we were back in this game we loved to play.

Haven called me as soon as she found out. It was easy to feel relieved, but even easier to feel guilty for considering someone else’s heartbreak a Christmas present. I fought the urge to text him my condolences. I didn’t want to open that can of worms so far from summer. I didn’t want to be a tease.

I tried not to be a tease now, or a rebound, even if it had been six months. I didn’t know why they’d broken up, or who broke up with who, but I couldn’t assume it had anything to do with me. Why the hell would it? Still, I couldn’t help how my heart hummed. I sat next to him and tried to put my best foot forward, like I was a movie he was about to review.

I swished my pony tail behind my back, pretending it was because I didn’t like how it stuck to my warm neck.Look how carefree I am!

Boat name backstories were enthralling. The life jacket buckles were mesmerizing. The orange soda was astonishing.Look how relaxed I am!

I wore a subtle smile, pretending my resting face actually looked this sweet.Look how happy I am!

I loved how the spotlight felt, even if I was only glowing in my head.

Finally, Everett’s eyes found mine. I didn’t immediately turn my head, but I couldn’t help it after a couple more glances at the cotton candy clouds.

I’d never forget his smile, the golden fractals of sunset on his cheeks. I was stuck inside the visions of a sound sunset I never wanted to be rescued from.

Age 17, June 30

“How many more miles?” Haven asked.

“Two.” Holden stared straight ahead, holding Mason’s hand over the center console.

Mason steered absentmindedly on the highway, headlights the only break in the evening darkness. All I could focus on was Everett’s knee bobbing next to mine. Our sides were pressed together. I felt each of his movements like they were my own, but both of us pretended we didn’t notice.

The drive from Piper Island to Carolina Beach was a long, eerie shot of darkness that only existed on Ocean Highway, the road that connected every beach on the North Carolina coast. We passed the time with Would You Rather and throwback songs from middle school.

We were only making the trip because Ashe’s Donuts just reopened after a string of renovations. It was all Holden had talked about since we first heard whispers of a world-famous donut shop, so Mason booked a motel near the Carolina Beach Boardwalk, home of Ashe’s Donuts. He was the first to take off work, and everyone but Jorge was able to swing it.

Carolina Beach was covered in gift shops with shark mouths for doors, restaurants that were pulled from the sea, mini golf courses that stayed open until the sun came up. We’d driven straight into a trap—the tourist kind—made for families who wouldn’t make it out with any money to spare. Everything was lit up for the moon.

Nestled inside temporary carnival rides, gift shops, and smoky bars, Ashe’s Donuts was lit up in green neon. The line was about fifty people deep, all rocking on their heels in sugared anticipation. Ashe’s was famous—even with locals—because it only opened for tourist season and stayed open late. It was one of those cash-only places with a letter board menu that wasn’t needed since there was only one item: a dozen Ashe’s Donuts. That was how I knew this trip would be worth it.

While Haven, Holden, and Mason joined the line, Everett and I walked around the Boardwalk. Different from Sapphire Beach Boardwalk, this one ran parallel to the shore and severely lacked actualboards. But there was still the cigarette smell, gum-plastered sidewalk, and a kaleidoscope of colored lights.

“Thoughts on the age of this gum?” I asked Everett, pointing to a dried clump that might have actually been tar.

“At least forty years.” Everett smiled. His hands were deep in his pockets, but he stood so close to me that our shoulders could kiss.

“I don’t feel like disagreeing.” I nudged him so our shoulders kissed.

Thatwas how I knew this trip would be worth it.

I’d had three donutsby the time we checked in to our room at the Salty Seahorse. They were just as soft and sweet as I expected, but the motel sure wasn’t.

The whole place looked unswept, if a place could ever be called that. Brown stains lived on the walls as if stunned there with flashing light. The sea glass tile on the bathroom floor was more glass than sea. It boasted what must have been original to the building: marigold upholstery, dusty wall sconces, oak wood paneling. I dropped my duffel bag dramatically on the browning tile floor. It felt fitting.

“I love the smell of mothballs.” Holden stretched out on the bedspread, an unfortunate collage of vintage beige seashells.

“Shut up.” Mason hit him with a scallop throw pillow.

We made our way to the balcony with the two bags of donuts that survived the drive over. The bag emptied fast, even as it split the spotlight with a family-sized chip bag and juice boxes we picked up from a 24-hour pharmacy up the road.

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