Page 78 of The Summers of Us

He massaged the back of his neck. “The sofa’s like a rock.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good. It’s peaceful out here.”

He was wearing the same Chicago crewneck from last summer’s goodbye. This moment was different, but hinges of the past squeaked through. A porch, secrets in front of a closed door, the distant roaring ocean, a sky full of stars. Light doing his jaw a favor. My heart knocking on my ribcage.

But Kelsie was a distant memory. I was here, and when I asked Everett if he wanted to go to the beach, he nodded and followed me.

I turned the TV off and slipped the pieces of saltwater taffy I bought earlier into my hoodie pocket. The door shut behind me, but this time Everett was on the other side with me, waiting to walk beside me.

We followed my cell phone light to a spot on the sand. In the pale moonlight, the sand glowed white like freshly laid snow. It felt cold like snow, too, so far removed from sunlight.

He sat down next to me on the sand. I hugged my arms around my knees, faced him. In front of the hazy orange horizon, he was a midnight blue figure of curly hair and hunched shoulders. Blue, but darker than the moon jellies at the aquarium. The universe had given me another chance to toy with blue. I wouldn’t dream of calling it ugly this time.

The bridge of his nose careened into his lips. The moon glinted off the waves, but I preferred to watch him, imagine brushing my hand across the sore muscles in his back.

Instead, I pulled a taffy from my pocket and pressed it into his hand. He crinkled it out of the wrapper and took a bite.

His mouth was still working around it when he pressed it back into my hand. “Have the rest. See if we can figure out the flavor.”

I didn’t think a second about it and popped it into my mouth. I knew the flavor well and smiled knowing the same flavor was on Everett’s tongue. We were tethered by the sticky, stringy pull of salt water taffy.

We guessed cotton candy at the same time. I’d know it in every lifetime. We’d do this in every lifetime.

I opened another, took a bite, and gave him the other half.

We debated about the rest. We couldn’t agree between pomegranate and cherry. Or root beer and butterscotch. Cinnamon couldn’t have been clearer. Buttered popcorn made both of us recoil. Chicken and waffles was a confusing but pleasant surprise. Piña colada made my jaw clench, but it was a welcome feeling.

Soon, my pocket was empty save for wrinkled, sticky wrappers. I didn’t know the time, but the moon shone from a different spot in the sky. The breeze was cold and gentle on my hair. If I was more than a blue figure to him now, I’d thank the wind for making me look so effortless.

Everett shifted in the sand. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

“I broke up with Kelsie.”

There was an ocean of things I could have said, but it was time to be diplomatic, not shove myself into his book pages. “I’m sorry. I’m sure breakups are hard.”

“No, it’s okay. Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said.

“Why? I thought she was cool.”

It was true; I did.

“I know, I just feel like I wasted her time. I feel terrible. I thought I had feelings for her, and we had fun, but…” His abrupt silence illuminated the lull of crashing waves. “It didn’t feel like this.”

This. Quinn and Everett. Carousel horses. Stories in the clouds. Moon jellies. Warm fountain pennies. Bike rides. Katydids. Ocean water. Pinball. Unbridled laughter. Cicadas. Pinky promises. Porch light. Salt water taffy.

Memories from the summers of us.

“Nothing else does,” I croaked. Gulped. Stretched out under the stars to calm the roar within me.

Everett did the same, his blue silhouette plucked from the sky behind him. The magnetism between us felt tangible.

Stars still twinkled despite the town’s yellow cast and the bright half-moon. My eyes bounced around the cloak of stars, stringing together new constellations in the sky. I stared until they seemed to move like chess pieces in a game the universe played against itself.

And then it happened.

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