Page 41 of The Bro Date
“I already made plans,” Shane says casually, taking another bite without looking up.
My smile drops, and a sharp pang jabs my heart. I guess the kiss was too much, and the butterfly date wasn’t as epic as I thought.
Shane must see the spiraling despair on my face because he quickly corrects himself. “For both of us.”
Oh, thank God.
“Another date?” I ask hopefully, my stomach fluttering with excitement and anticipation.
What did I do to deserve these surprises?
I guess the more accurate question is, what did I do to deserve Shane? Because he is the best man I have ever met, and he doesn’t need to take me on a date to prove it. I’ve known for ten years. Shane is my person, and I hope that never changes.
“You didn’t think I’d stop after one date, did you?”
A small smile tugs at my lips, and I shrug. I didn’t place any expectations on whatever is going on here; I just keep reminding myself that Shane is straight.
“So where are we going?” I ask, finishing off my last piece of bacon. “Will you tell me this time?”
Shane nods. “Yeah. We have to pack accordingly, so I kinda have to. We’re going to Driftwood Beach.”
“No freaking way!” I shout in excitement. I’ve heard it’s like another world out there, and I’ve always wanted to go.
“Yup. That’s why I’m up so early. I wanna get there during low tide. It’s the best time of day.”
He’s so thoughtful and so prepared. I fucking love being his passenger princess.
A narrow, sandy path cuts through the salt marsh, leading us from the parking lot to the ocean. It’s close to a mile walk, but as soon as the palmettos thin out and we step onto the beach, my jaw drops in awe.
It was worth it.
“Whoa.It’s like an ancient tree burial ground. This is so cool.”
I feel like Simba when he finds the elephant graveyard, or like I just stepped onto an alien planet. It’s otherworldly here, and I can’t believe I’ve never seen this place before.
Weathered trees and broken driftwood for as far as the eye can see, their twisted, gnarly-looking carcasses littering the sand for miles. The wood is smooth and gray, polished by the sea and exposed by years of erosion.
It’s heavily protected here, so we can’t take anything home from the beach, even the shells. It’s against the law and comes with a hefty fine, but man, is this an incredible place to visit.
“Would you look at the size of ’em,” Shane murmurs, just as mesmerized as I am. He ghosts a hand over a large tree lying on its side like it was ripped straight from the ground and flung across the ocean. Some are buried deep in the sand and barely poking out.
“A sand dollar! Shane, look!” I shout with pure excitement, pointing down to the white disc-shaped creature that’s been dead for God knows how long.
The seashells are so beautiful here, and it hurts my collector heart not to be able to take any home with me. One of my favorite things to do growing up on the beach in Crescent Bay was shelling in my own backyard.
As we explore the beach, comfortable and enjoying our date, I slip into a fond memory from the past.
“Hey, wanna collect seashells?” I ask with a big, excited smile. It’s one of my favorite things about living right on the beach, and I’ve never had someone to go with me before. Sometimes it’s not very fun being an only child, but now I have a best friend.
Shane shrugs like he doesn’t really care either way, continuing to stare lifelessly at the TV in my bedroom.
“Do you not like the sand or something?” I ask hesitantly, or maybe he’s afraid of the water.
“I’ve only been to the beach once, so I don’t really know.”
“But you’ve lived here longer than me. How have you only been once?” My brows crease, and I tilt my head in confusion, trying to understand how that could be possible.
“My mom works at the flower shop all the time and stays with her boyfriend a lot. I don’t really get to do anything but watch TV.”
