Page 25 of Someday Not Soon

For a moment, we stare at each other through the glass. His shoulders are bunched with tension, hands clenched into fists. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks like he’s at his breaking point. But then again, do I really know him? We had one summer together, and that was ten years ago. People change. I know I have. I’m still me, but a different version—one that’s a bit more broken, yet mended in a way that’s made me stronger, more resilient.

As much as I want to fling that door back open and hear what he has to say, the fear of getting my hopes up only to face loss again wins out. It’s that fear that forces me to turn on my heel and walk away, not daring to look back.

Tiptoeing down the dark hall to my room, doubt gnaws at me. Am I being a coward for leaving like this, or is it for the best? My brain insists I’ve done the right thing by walking away, but the trembling in my hands and pounding of my heart say otherwise.

The next morning, I plaster on a smile, pretending everything is perfectly fine. Last night’s awkward, heated moment with Jude feels more like a hazy dream than something that actually happened. It’s easier this way—to act like it never did.

The wedding party is slowly waking up, everyone moving sluggishly until their first cup of coffee kicks in. Amidst the morning commotion, I find myself scanning the room for him. But, true to form, Jude is nowhere to be found.

Madi slides into the seat beside me at the table, nudging my arm. “You alright?”

“I’m all good. Why?”

“I thought you might be looking for someone.”

I assume she means Levi, considering he’s the last person I was seen alone with. No one knows about the late-night deck talks Jude and I have been having, and I plan to keep it that way. There’s no need to stir up drama right before the wedding.

“Nope. I already told Levi I’m not looking to bang.”

“No, not him. My brother,” she whispers.

My heart skips a beat, but I force a casual tone. “You know that ship sailed years ago.” It’s the truth, even if part of me wishes it weren’t. The last thing I want is to put her in an awkward spot between her best friend and her brother.

“Oh, well never mind then. Butifhe was the one you happened to be looking around the room for, then he leftthis morning. And he looked like absolute shit. Or like he needed a shoulder to cry on. Just saying.” She wiggles her eyebrows before pushing back from the table.

I take another sip of coffee, her words replaying in my mind. Why did he look like that? Was it the remnants of a hangover, or did last night on the deck leave its mark on him too? But as my mental fog begins to clear, logic cools my thoughts. People have never cared enough about me to get worked up—not my parents, and not him ten years ago. Why would he be any different now?

But as everyone hits the beach for the final time, packing up cars and exchanging goodbyes, I drive home thinking of only him. The way his eyes closed when I touched him, and the unrestrained hitch of his breath. And then there’s the one glaringly obvious part of him that didn’t change whatsoever—his stare.

He still looks at me the same way. Like I’m the only person in the world worth looking at.

Chapter Fourteen

Jude

Past

The sun hangslow in the sky, casting everything in a golden glow. We have the beach to ourselves, not a soul here besides Ella and I. I have no idea why no one else has caught on that sunset is the best time to be at the beach. I’ll take the soft light, cool sand, and the world seemingly paused for us any day.

“Dream house?” I ask, kicking off another round of our endless game of twenty questions.

She buries her feet into the sand in front of us. “A craftsman. Wrap-around porch. All original doors, knobs, and flooring.”

“And here I thought you’d say an oceanside mansion.”

“Honestly, I think I’d feel lost in a mansion. I want something cozy, with character,” she replies. “But don’t getme wrong, if I had that kind of money, the oceanside mansion wouldfor surebe my second home.”

I bump her with my shoulder. “An oceanside mansion might be a little outside of my salary, but a craftsman…I could do a craftsman.”

“Sounds better than any fancy new home, doesn’t it? There’s history. A story,” she murmurs, resting her head on my shoulder as the last sliver of sun dips below the horizon, the sky deepening to a dark blue.

“You already know you won me over with the history part,” I grin, feeling the muscles in her cheek smile against my shoulder. “Do you ever wonder what our lives will be like? In ten, twenty, or even fifty years?”

“I actively try to not think that far ahead.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m scared of what I’ll find.” She sighs. “I’m a broke, part-time exercise instructor, living off the generosity of my best friend. Unless there’s some groundbreaking change, I don’t foresee my life getting significantly better.”

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