The pounding in my head settles to a dull ache when I open my eyes the next morning. I'm still in my clothes from yesterday. The ones I got a job in. The ones I cried in. The ones I ruined everything with Tyler in. My eyes squeeze closed at the thought of all the mistakes I made. His pain-stricken face flashes in the darkness and I shoot up out of bed, thrusting my hands into my hair and pulling on the strands. The pain grounds me.

"Pumpkin, you up?" My dad calls from downstairs.

I scrub my hands down my face. "Unfortunately." I groan.

Using my voice after all the crying I did yesterday ignites the fire coating my throat. I'm attacked by a sudden onslaught of coughing that leaves me pounding my fist against my chest and my eyes watering.

My body screams at me to curl up into a ball under my comforter and waste the day sleeping.

A knock sounds on the door before my dad bounces in. There's only one word to describe him. Fresh. As if he didn't spend last night crying under a pier with me. At first, I just stare. How do I approach this? But I decide it's probably best to leave it up to him. He can decide whether we mention what happened or bury it deep inside ourselves.

He's holding a tray of breakfast foods. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Sausages. Beans. There's even a small glass of orange juice.

"Since when do you cook?" I tease.

I sit down on my bed when he hands me the tray.

"Don't get your hopes up too soon. The eggs were supposed to be sunny side up." He arches a brow as he sits down next to me. The mattress dips with his weight and I have to readjust the tray on my lap. "And, well, you can see how that turned out."

"I'm guessing the juice isn't freshly squeezed either."

He elbows me in the side, and I laugh. "Go on then, try it. I didn't slave over the stove for the past half an hour for you to just look at it." I eye it suspiciously, using my knife to prod at one of the sausages. "I know how to cook a sausage, Scarlett."

A bubble of laughter erupts in my chest. "Okay, okay. Fine, I'll try it. But I'm not making any promises."

I don't even bother cutting into it. I just stab it with my fork and take a bite out of it. Watching my dad watch me, waiting for my reaction, makes it harder to chew. When I finally swallow it, I puff my cheeks up with air and cover my mouth with my hands. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"No, you're not," he says but it comes out as more of a question than a statement.

I knock my shoulder against his with a giggle. Relief is evident on his face. "I'm kidding, dad. It's good." I take another bite and don't even bother swallowing it before I say, "it just tastes like a sausage."

"That's it, I can't deal with you bullying me any longer." He shoots up and the tray almost rolls off my lap.

"Dad," I start, struggling to contain my laughter.

"No, I've had enough. You can do the washing up for that."

He slams my door closed behind him, but I can hear him laughing all the way down the stairs.

"Thank you!" I shout.

Part of me is relieved that he chose not to mention what happened. If he did, I'd have to tell him why I was under the pier in the middle of the night and that's not something I'm ready to admit. Once I'm done with the food I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. My hands clasped over my stomach. I don't know where Tyler is. All I do know is this, I need to make things right.

I don't remember the last time I went in the water. I've always preferred sitting on the sand, focusing on the lyrics of the music playing through my earphones and feeling the grains sift between my fingers. But today I want to go in the water.

I'm ashamed of what happened yesterday. Ashamed of the looks some people gave me on the walk down to the beach. Part of me knows that my idea to go in the water wasn't just brought on randomly. It gives me an excuse to get away from the judging eyes around me. Although I think most of them are in my head.

Either way, I'm going in the water.

I perch my bag behind a rock, so it isn't so obviously in sight, and strip down into my underwear. The one bathing suit that I own is still stuffed in a box in my room. Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't have bothered bringing it with me.

The wind is stronger today than it has been since we moved here. Goosebumps erupt across my skin and every hair on my body stands on end. I wrap my hands around my stomach to cover myself as much as I can and sprint to the water, kicking up sand behind me.

It seeps between my toes, sending a jolt of ice up my leg. Part of me wants to turn back around but it's too late for that. So, instead, I go deeper and deeper until it hits my chest. Shivers wrack my body and I just stand there. Chattering teeth. Bulging eyes. Waiting for the adrenaline to kick in.

When it finally does, I spread my arms and legs out and float. The silence so loud it's almost deafening empties my mind. Out here it's as if nothing exists. Just me and the sea. The sky is filled with grey clouds floating over from the South and I watch them as they pass over me. Savoring the feeling of the water against my skin. If calm had a scent, it'd be this. Like salt and a cold sun. It's a simple smell. A familiar one. But it's one that can't be found anywhere else.

I don't know how long I'm like that- floating aimlessly- before he finds me.

"I didn't think I'd see that lacy underwear so soon," he teases.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. He's in a pair of shorts and nothing else. A white surfboard rests between his legs. His hair is flat to his face, the water turning it a rich shade of brown. That same shell necklace still sits around his neck. A grin plays on his lips as he watches me.

"Why do you have a surfboard? There's no waves."

"Good observation, Phoenix." He shovels water with his hands until he's only a few inches away. "Why are you in your underwear?"

I wait for the urge to cover myself to blare like an alarm in my head, but it never comes. For some reason, I don't feel like I need to cover up around him.

"Didn't have a bathing suit."

"Ah," he hums.

Unspoken words settle between us. There are so many things to say but not enough words in the dictionary to say them. Nothing feels right. Sorry feels inadequate in this situation. He deserves so much more than a single word. This boy that I've had two short conversations with has managed to worm his way into my head. I hardly even know him and yet the urge to trust him outweighs everything else. It scares me.

"I shouldn't have lashed out at you yesterday," I start. My gaze is trained on the clouds above as I say it, growing darker and darker by the second. "I had no right to- "

"Don't sweat it," he cuts me off.

"No, I shouldn't have spoken to you that way when you did nothing- "

"Honestly, Scarlett. It's fine," he says. He pushes his hair off his face and slicks it back. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes are guarded. Just like they were yesterday. "What happened to you the other night?"

I stumble on my words for a second. His want- no, need- to ignore all the terrible things I said to him surprises me. The tightly wound ball of guilt deep in my stomach grows but I push it down. Another time.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand when water splashes over my face. "Just family stuff. I would've called but," I trail off.

He shoots me a tight smile. "You don't have my number."

"Nope."

"You'll just have to come to the next one then."

A smile breaks out across my face at his words. Hope flutters beneath my skin. Maybe things will go back to the way they were before. He treads water beside me, and I close my eyes. Even though we know next to nothing about each other, I feel safe with him. Like whenever we're together my brain goes on autopilot. I don't have to think about anything that happened before we got here. I just think about the here and now.

"Are you cold?" He asks.

I squint up at him. "Kind of. It's nice out here though."

"Okay, well, I'm cold as shit." He blows out a breath, "and I'm not leaving you out here so hop on." He pats the board behind him.

Both of my eyes are wide open now.

"What?"

"Get on so we can get back to shore before I lose my toes."

"You're joking."

His shoulders shake with laughter. Dimples that I didn't realize he had appear on his cheeks. "About losing my toes, yes. Although I think I'm starting to lose feeling in them. About you getting on the board, no. I'm not going to stand on the sand and wait for you like a douchebag while you paddle your way back to shore. It'll be faster on my board."

"You make a good argument," I say. With the look he gives me I'm not sure he'd even let me paddle back to shore. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled me onto the board behind him and brought me back kicking and screaming. "Fine," I give in. "Don't think you're getting paid for this though."

He chuckles as I climb on behind him. "I'm not a taxi service, Phoenix."

Once I'm in the direct path of the wind it hits me like a whip. I tense my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. "Go, quick, before I turn into an ice cube."

"Aren't Phoenix's supposed to be able to combust into flames- "

"Just paddle."

"Okay, God. Hold on to me. I don't trust you to not fall off the back," he says.

I think it surprises both of us how fast I wrap my arms around his abdomen. The little heat radiating from his body feels too good against my skin and I press my cheek against his back too. He sucks in a breath but doesn't complain as he paddles back to sure. I help him out with what little movement I have left in my legs.

Once we're in shallow water we both jump off and run the rest of the way. Tyler grabs his board as if it weighs nothing and I grab my bag, not bothering that it sticks to the water beading across my skin.

We manage to dip beneath the pier before the rain hits. It still seeps through the cracks but barely. "Did you bring a towel?" He asks, wrapping his own around his shoulders. My face heats in embarrassment. That's the only answer he needs. "You thought it was a good idea to go for a swim on a day like today without a towel? What were you going to do, run home in your underwear?"

I wrap my arms tightly around my body. "I don't know!" I exclaim.

"Come here," he opens his towel and gestures for me to come closer.

My heart rate spikes.

"You want me to," I trail off, eyeing the space between us.

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, now hurry up or you'll get hypothermia."

I just look at him, wanting so badly to be warm but not wanting to press my body against his. Securing my arms around his abdomen was one thing but this is something else entirely.

"Scarlett, are you honestly hesitating right now? Come here."

Before I know it, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. The towel barely fits around us both. Our fronts are pressed against each other, and my arms are hanging at my sides, caged in by his. My skin hums with the contact. A fire ignites deep in the pit of my stomach, making it harder and harder to breathe. He looks down at me, but I avoid his gaze.

He clears his throat. His hands settle on my shoulder blades, and I take a sharp intake of breath.

"Pancakes?" His voice is strained.

I've never wanted pancakes so bad in my life.