Page 25 of Written in the Oceans

“It’s, uh, just past Lake Tahoe, in Nevada. I moved out here right out of high school.”

I nod. “Huh, I always assumed famous people grew up in Hollywood. Like they were bred here or something.”

He smirks, cocking his head to the side with his brows raised in amusement. “Bred here?”

“I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I guess… I just never really realized movie stars had a life before they got famous,” I stammer. I can feel the redness spreading through my face, traveling to my ears and leaving the tips of them hot with embarrassment.

“It’s fine,” he says coolly. “I’m not offended. It’s just a funny concept that just because I do movies, I would’ve appeared out of thin air into LA. Like a magician or something.”

“Uh, you don’t ‘just do movies.’”

His right brow flicks up into an arch. “I’m an actor.”

I roll my eyes, and my embarrassment fades as his smile rings clear with playful wit. “You know what I mean.” With my head tilted to the side, shaking it slightly to brush off his modesty, I smile coyly.

“I do,” he affirms teasingly. “But do enlighten me.”

I suppress a laugh thinking how I would explain to Rhylan Matthews his celebrity rank. “I mean, I was just watching one of your movies at home, and now you’re literally in front of me,” I point out. “I think that’s pretty surreal.”

He laughs, flashing his perfectly straight I-never-skipped-a-night-wearing-my-retainers teeth. “I hope it was half decent,” he says, rubbing his chin as he talks.

“Meh, it was fine,” I tease.

His open palm reaches up and lightly grazes my lower back in the midst of our banter. And I know he does it as a response to my playful barb, but it feels so tenderly affectionate.

We turn our gazes back to the view, and our smiles fade into a look of satisfied contentment. No exaggerated laughs or forced smiles, just quiet gratification.We stand there in silence, relishing in the clarity the night air provides as I notice him watching me through my peripheral vision. The cool winds continue to sweep between us, lifting the silence and taking any speck of vulnerability with it. It’s comforting in a way that feels effortless. I’ve never felt this way with anyone where I could let my guard down so naturally.

“Can I ask you something?” Rhylan asks, breaking the silence. I turn, and he’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, the bottom hem of his jacket curved up like drapes. “What was going on in your head at the coffeehouse?”

I sigh at his question and bring my eyes back to the view of the city, everything blurring until all I see is a fogged cloak of twinkling lights. I don’t know how to answer his question. So instead, I think about how it feels to drown, a feeling that I’ve become so intimately acquainted with.

Whenever I picture myself drowning, it’s always in the middle of the ocean. Where it’s dark and empty, making me scream for help out of sheer desperation. But nothing comes out. My screams are eerily silent as I sink into a shadowy void. And that outright terrifies me.

“I can’t really explain it,” I finally say. “I guess… I have moments where I feel overwhelmed. Like I’m suffocating. It feels like I’m being pulled down, and there’s nothing to keep me afloat.” I take a deep breath. “Kind of like I’m…”

“Like you’re drowning.”

My eyes flutter back to him, my lips parting ever so slightly to draw in a breath. “How did you know?”

“I feel like that too sometimes. Like I can’t breathe, and when I saw you, for some reason, it felt like you knew exactly what that felt like. You… didn’t look like you were just having a bad day.”

When I say I’m drowning, I mean it. Not in the actual physical sense like I’ve been thrown into the deep end of a pool and a teen in a uniformed red swimsuit has to save me. I mean I’m sinking because the enervating attempts to ride the waves with freedom and confidence have failed. So I have no choice but to plummet down the deep depths of the ocean, where I surrender. I don’t fight anymore. I don’t endeavor towards anything. I just accept my fate.

And Rhylan understands this.

I turn and look back at the view, hugging myself as I shiver in the cool spring breeze. I feel a welcoming heat surrounding me, covering my shoulders and draping over my torso. Rhylan has taken off his jacket and envelops me in his warmth and scent. His fingertips brush the sensitive spot at the base of my neck, making it buzz with electricity as a chill runs down my back.

He’s now dressed in his white dress shirt tucked neatly into his seamless pants. The shirt blows in the wind and clings to his broad chest, exposing his physique. I smile softly at his kind gesture and whisper a quiet “thank you.”

“Thank you for coming up here with me,” he says softly as he steps back. “I’m usually up here alone, and it’s nice to share this with someone.”

“Thank you for bringing me up here.”

He smiles at me. And then it suddenly hits me how tangible this moment feels while feeling illusive at the same time. How I’ve actually met someone that somehow understands me, just as equally as I understand him.

I look away from Rhylan, my gaze focusing forward while I wrap his suit jacket inwards. Words that I didn’t realize were bubbling up inside me start to spill. As if they had reached a boiling point and they tipped over the edges.

“My dad was quite literally my most favorite person in the world.” My voice pours out of me like a bundle of silk ribbon against the cool wind, flapping so vividly but somehow placid in contrast to my galloping heart. “His favorite thing to do was to take me out on weekends in his pick-up truck to run errands like browse random pawn shops. He would always slap my hand away every time I tried to change the radio station, saying I needed to expand my taste in music away from the ‘shrill pop music’ that I played in my room.” A light laugh ripples through my lips, the surprise of describing my dad feeling so foreign. “And he used to be obsessed with books. He started my library when I was six. Even though I couldn’t read them, he passed down to me books likeFahrenheit 451orAnimal Farm. And when I got a little older, he added classics likeWuthering HeightsandSense and Sensibility.”

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