Page 56 of Hypothetical Heart
She stands from her chair, headed for the door. “You’re officially uninvited.”
“We’ll see about that!” I yell as she enters the hallway.
“Bye, Logan!” She replies as I throw my head back against my pillow.
God, that girl.
17
APRIL
The first night of the beach house in Myrtle Beach always feels like a dream of sorts.
By the time we get off the plane and to the house, it’s usually too late to do anything other than get dinner and settle in for the night.
For me, it’s always the most exciting night because we get to go to sleep knowing what awaits us in the morning. Waking up, eating breakfast together, and heading straight down the steps of the porch to the beach.
It’s what we’ve been waiting for all winter, and it’s finally here.
By the time we get the house unlocked, unload all of our stuff, and make it to dinner, it’s nearly dark out, and we decided to build a fire on the beach.
By we, I mean the boys build a fire on the beach while Eloise, Genevieve, and I take our sweet time collecting materials for s’mores.
“Are you sure that fire isn’t too big?” I ask as us girls come down the stairs of the porch,practically face-to-face with the tallest bonfire I’ve ever seen. “I don’t want us to get in trouble with the beach security.”
Logan laughs. “We won’t get in trouble. Plus, this is a private beach. There’s no security.”
No one else protests and we all set up our chairs in a big circle around the fire.
The sound of the waves crashing in the background of our casual chats almost lulls me to sleep in my folding chair. I lean back in the chair, my head falling to my shoulder.
Our friend group seems to teeter back and forth between the serene moments and the crazy teenage dirtbag ones. There’s not really an in-between. We’re either sitting around a fire, laughing and enjoying one another's company, or we’re drinking at a party where one person is getting in a fist fight and another is throwing up in the bushes.
But there’s one other moment that is rarer than the rest: when we fight.
I don’t know how much time has passed since we first came out here. All I know is I was half asleep and probably wouldn’t have even noticed that Jameson, Genevieve, and Eloise had gone back inside the house to play darts if it weren’t for the yelling I heard.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Gen’s voice bellows from the house, startling me into a sitting position.
“It was an accident!” Eloise yells back, and it feels like her voice bounces off the waves.
“What the fuck is happening?” Logan asks, him and Luke both standing from their chairs.
I make a run for it through the sand and up the stairs onto the porch. The sliding glass door is ajar when I race through it, only to find Jameson in the kitchen. He’s holdinga blood-soaked paper towel to his bicep, which is the first clue that something is off.
“It’s not an accident when you’re doing stupid shit!” The yelling is coming from the game room.
“Woah, are you alright?” Luke asks Jameson.
He’s starting to go pale, and he only nods his head at the question.
Logan rushes into the game room, the sound of Genevieve and Eloise fighting still prominent. This isn’t their normal bicker, either. This is a full-fledged screaming match—one I’m not sure I want to be a part of if I walk into that room. Yet, I follow Logan anyway.
“What the hell happened?” he asks loudly, trying to catch their attention. It doesn’t work. They’re still screaming at each other.
“You realize you could have killed him, right?” Genevieve screams. “That dart could have gone through his neck!”
“You’re making this way worse than it was,” Eloise defends.
