Page 45 of Riptide

Running a hand through my tousled hair, I exhale loudly. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, a heavy, burning weight that follows my every move. “Is it just the student thing now? Because fuck them; we’re both adults.”

He sighs. “It’s not that simple—”

I interrupt him. “Then make it that simple.”

His hand raises. “If you let me finish…” He pauses, looking slightly tortured. “It’s not that simplebecause I still want you,” he says, eyes on mine. “I finally took something for myself, and it’s blown up in my face, twice, but that doesn’t make me feel like I can deny you. It doesn’t touch the part of me that still wants this.” Gesturing between us, he lets out a laugh that’s bitter at the edges. “Tell me that’s not fucked up. That I know this is wrong, and it's more than likely temporary, and I don’t care.”

Something in my body doesn’t like the wordtemporary, but I tamp it down, because what else he’s saying is more important right now. “That’s not fucked up. That’s honest. You want me. I want you. And we’re standing here acting like that’s the problem instead of everything else we keep trying to hide behind.” I step toward him, but don’t reach for him. “I’m not asking you to blow up your life. I just want more of you. Why can’t we just lean into that for a little while? I have no plans to fuck up your career. We share one measly class for one freaking year, and if you’re still worried, we can be discreet about this. The only other person who knows is my sister, Daphne, and probably her boyfriend.”

His face falls into the palms of his hands. “That’s already two people, Finn.”

“She won’t say anything. Neither will he. I’ve already spoken to them.”

He holds my gaze, searching for something. Maybe a reason to say no, or a reason to not want me as much as he does. “I’m supposed to take comfort in that? Leaving things up to chance isn’t really my strength. I like probable outcomes.”

His dark eyes are burdened with something he doesn’t say. The want is there, but so is the cost.

“You’re a risk I can’t predict the outcome of,” he says finally. “You show up and everything I’ve kept in order starts slipping. Ilikeorder, Finn.”

I take another step closer, the pull to him effortless. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. And I’m not here to wreck that. But maybe there’s room for something that doesn’t fit your system.”

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, yet burn with desire.

“We don’t have to name it. We don’t have to plan it. But I think you need it too. When was the last time you took a risk?”

He stares at me for a long second, and I see a myriad of emotions cross his face. His internal battle is practically pulsing off him in waves. Then, relenting, he closes his eyes and nods once. A surrender without saying the word. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers. “I usually have rules and boundaries and you…” He doesn’t carry on, but the implication is clear. I’m not something he can figure out, and I can’t deny that I like that.

“Just don’t walk away from it,” I say, when my brain thinks,don’t walk away from me.

***

I exhale slowly, sinking deeper into my childhood bed. The mattress is too firm, the sheets unfamiliar again after monthsaway. Everything in here belongs to a different version of me, one who still believed in something. One who didn’t know what it was like to watch someone vanish beneath a wave.

Maybe I should redecorate. I’m tired of the reminders. Of the kid who thought he was untouchable. Who thought the ocean was the only thing that made sense.

Then I remember how long it took me to decorate this room in the first place, how much I begged Daphne to help me. The effort was only worth it once. Yeah, fuck that. I don’t wanna redecorate. I don’t plan on living in this house for the rest of my life anyway.

My fingers move without thinking, scrolling through my camera roll, looking for something. Dr. Hale said it might help to look at photos of Jared. To stop flinching every time I see his face. To let the memories exist without immediately trying to outrun them.

It’s exposure therapy, basically. I guess there's no time like the present.

I swipe past old surf shots, team dinners, blurry hotel room selfies. And then the picture of my closest friend appears. He’s grinning at the edge of the water, soaked to the skin, giving me the finger with one hand and holding a bottle of Gatorade in the other. His board’s behind him. His laugh is practically frozen in the frame. I can almost hear it still. That day was one of our rare days off and, not surprisingly, we’d spent it surfing, but comp surfing and fun surfing are two entirely different things. We caught so many incredible waves that day, he wiped the floor with me. He was incredible.

My throat slowly starts to close, and I try to swallow past it, but it burns. The salt returns to my lungs as I shout his name underwater over and over, searching the dark blue.

I know it’s just a picture. I know. I close my eyes, forcing my lungs to settle. But it hits like a punch, because this day was onlyone week before everything changed. I remember thinking we had all the time in the world, and we were so lucky to do what we do.

And suddenly, I can’t take a full breath.

The room spins a little. My hands go cold and clammy. That familiar squeeze wraps around my ribs, tight and cruel.

No. No. I can control this.

Okay. Nuts. Name some, focus. What are the names? Come on.

Almond.Cashew.Macadamia.Pistachio.

I whisper them to the ceiling, voice shaky but steadying with each one. My pulse is still racing, but it’s not galloping anymore. I focus on my fingers curled in the sheets. The sound of the wind outside. The ridiculousness of the nut list.

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