Page 30 of The Beach House
I let out a breath of laughter. “Definitely not just you,” I whispered back, smiling.
He chuckled a little, sounding as relieved as I felt.
And never mind it being totally bizarre, it would have been totally screwed up of me to kiss my boyfriend’s brother.
“Lee.”
“What?”
“You’re kind of crushing me.”
“So long as you’re not suddenly crushingonme, Elle, it’s all good.” He winked, jumping up and giving me a hand. “You wanna head off?”
I was glad he’d suggested it, and nodded. The party had been good, but the fun was definitely over now. I was done with truth or dare.
“We’re gonna shoot off,” Lee announced. “I mean, you know, after that hot and heavy make-out session, we just can’t keep our hands off each other. Gotta go find a room, you know?”
I snorted, and a few people got up to hug us goodbye, telling us to come again next time. Lee and I waved to the others and made our way back down the beach. I looped my arm through his, resting my head on his shoulder.
Thinking Lee had been about to kiss me had been weird beyond belief, but in a way, I was glad we’d been given the stupid dare. It was as though now I knew for certain that there could never ever be anything romantic between us. And I liked that; I really, honestly did. I wanted things to always be the same with us, however many ups and downs and arguments we had. We’d made it through the hardest seventeen years of our lives, and anyone who said we’d stop being friends later in life or would always wonderwhat if?didn’t know anything about us.
The next evening was our last, so our final dinner was made up of leftovers—meaning mostly salad and ice cream. The three of us put the house back in order, cleaning up before going to pack our things.
I’d always had trouble packing for the beach house.
Always.
And I had to admit, I hated the repacking the night before we left the beach house just as much. It was always kind of a downer, but this year felt worse than ever. Aside from the usual melancholy sight of our bedroom without all the clutter and clothes, and the simple fact that it was our last night here this year, it just felt so lonely, especially with Noah and his dad already gone.
Lee and I had said we’d come here every summer of our lives. But now it hit me—and it hit me hard—that the others might not be coming back with us.
And I really, really didn’t like that.
It was a stupid thing to cry over, I guess. It was just a house. But was it really so terrible of me to want this one thing to stay the same forever?
And this place was so much more than a house. It was where we’d spent every summer since we were kids. It was the one place that, no matter how far apart Lee and Noah had drifted, they would (for the most part) get along. It was the one place where we could act like five-year-olds and not give a damn.
“I hate this,” Lee said quietly. He had his back to me and was cramming shoes into nonexistent spaces in his suitcase. But he said it like he knew I was almost about to cry. “The leaving, I mean. I hate the leaving.”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll be back in a year. It’s stupid to miss it.”
“I know, but it won’t be the same, will it? Especially if Noah doesn’t come. And we’ll be, like, off to colleges….”
“Hey, what happened to our pact? We pinky-promised when we were ten years old to come here every year, and now you want to break that promise? Shelly, you of all people should know how tightly the pinky promise binds you.”
I giggled, but it stuck in my throat. “You know what I mean.”
“Kinda.” Then he sighed. “It sucks, huh?”
“Definitely.”
After a few minutes passed, Lee’s arms curled round me and he hugged me from behind. His chin was on my shoulder. After a couple of seconds, I turned and wrapped my arms round him, burying my face in his shoulder. We stood there like that, totally silent and holding each other.
I think Lee was just as upset as me, really, but he wasn’t going to show it. I knew him too well, though. I didn’t need him to tell me that Noah’s comment about growing up and maybe not coming back had stuck with him too.
Right then, we both needed the hug.
