Page 15 of The Bro Pact
I pull out the camera Val got me and take an awkward selfie with him while trying not to drop it. Luckily, a kind old woman offers to take our photo, introducing herself as Gladys.
“Oh! I’m familiar with these things,” she says, talking about the Polaroid. “Much better than all that new smart technology, in my opinion.”
We both chuckle, posing in front of the dunes with our arms around each other, smiling wide.
Gladys holds the camera up to her eye and aims. “Smile!” she shouts, pressing the capture button with a click.
A familiar whirring noise goes off as the photo is exposed and ejected.
Kyle and I release each other, turning around and gazing at the dunes one more time before we leave the lookout.
They really are spectacular, and for a moment, I forget all about Gladys standing behind us and the girl problems we’re running from. I haven’t been this happy in a while, and as I glance over at my best friend standing next to me, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t either.
Another flash goes off, and I realize I’ve been caught staring.
“Thank you, Gladys,” I say politely, taking the camera and photos from her. I smile kindly at the old lady, willing her to leave, and when she does, I look down, coming face to face with a candid shot of me staring intensely at Kyle.
For some reason, the photo seems extremely personal, and I shove it in my back pocket with the hidden postcard.
“Let me see,” Kyle insists, laughing until he realizes I’m dead-ass serious. “You’re really not gonna let me see it?” His smile slowly dies out.
I fold my arms across my chest, shaking my head.
What else is there to say?
I’m not showing him.
A look of hurt flashes through Kyle’s eyes before he steels himself. “That’s dumb. But whatever.”
We head back to the RV, and I can tell he’s annoyed with me, but I hide the picture in my toiletry bag nonetheless. I take the other one that Gladys snapped of us and use a wooden clothespin to clip it to the twine and fairy lights that loop across one side of the RV. I slip the postcard out of my back pocket and clip it next to the photo, turning the fairy lights on.
I’m hoping this will make Kyle smile and forget about the other photo.
“Wow,” he says with a small grin. “That’s going to be so cool by the time we’re done.”
“Yup,” I say, grabbing a long-sleeve flannel and slipping it on. “We need to bring layers so we can take items on and off as needed.” I tie a zip-up hoodie around my waist and slip an extra hair band around my wrist just in case. I can’t risk letting all this hair loose in the wind.
Kyle nods and starts digging through his bag. I really hope he’ll get over the photo drama and have fun today.
“There are no trees, no shrubs, and no buildings,” I tell him. “We’ll be completely exposed to the elements out there—the sun, the wind, the sand—so we need to protect ourselves.”
I spray sunscreen on both of us next, stuffing the bottle into my backpack, along with a couple of water bottles, protein bars, and hand towels.
We stopped at a local store right outside the park to rent sandboards for two days, and the way Kyle’s eyes lit up, you’d have thought it was Christmas morning.
We grab our helmets and strap them to our backpacks. Without managing to forget any other vital details like baseballhats and sunglasses, we hop out of the RV and into the bright sun.
To get to the dunes, we have to cross a wide but shallow creek that separates the sand from the parking lot. We take our shoes and socks off and tuck our sandboards under our arms to cross it.
Cool water rushes over my toes, distracting me from everything.
“This feels nice,” Kyle says with a warm smile on his face. I wish I could see his blue eyes through his lenses, but they're too dark.
“This is going to be so fun,” I murmur, gazing up at the tall dunes in front of us. Nothing but gold sand and rolling hills surround us.
“Hell yeah,” Kyle cosigns.
After we cross the creek, we quickly dry our feet off and slip our socks and shoes back on.
