alyssa

Tanner has seen fit to abandon me again, so I'm just chilling on my towel, still attempting to rapidly blink sand out of my eyes. My phone is too dim and too bright all at once; the bonfire flickering just down the beach has me turning my head toward the dark Pacific Ocean, moonlight glinting on its lazy tide.

Nothing scares me more than the sea at night.

I don't know where Tanner went, only that he was with that Jace guy. Mega dudebro vibes from that one. I'm honestly surprised he's queer, and that Tanner managed to pick him out so quickly—we've been here, what, a week? But, that's what Tanner does best. Picks what he wants, lives for himself, all that glorious et cetera. I could probably learn from his occasionally-selfish example. Maybe someday.

Instead of going out and "mingling" like Dad had suggested, I'm scrolling through Max's Instagram. They've apparently moved early to D.C., something we had spoken little about before the last couple weeks. Were they keeping it from me? Or did I somehow prompt it, what with my little disappearing act?

They look happy, at least. Max is the youngest of two literal prodigies, and they have the nicest parents ever. If it weren't for my dad being strict with dating (and for my ironic never-wanting to disobey my dad), the Alman's probably would have let me sleep over. Max had it great, I guess. Early graduation; escape of our small town; genius IQ sidled with charisma but somehow not a sociopath like Jenny Gonzalez, who will now definitely be valedictorian....

I need to stop thinking about Woodbury. All of it.

I've scrolled through posts so old that Max still bears long hair and no scar on their right cheek by the time Tanner texts me.

night swim?????

No. Ocean bad.

you sound like frankenstein but with the ocean and not fire

BRUH. BRUHHH.

SIS. SISSS.

SWIM. WITH. ME.

NO. Go makeout with your new boytoy.

i hate your face

Feeling is mutual. Begone, thot.

love u, butthole

Are you drinking? Butthole is your fav

drunk word.

no? how dare you???

your driving tho.

This is Tanner Speak for "yes i am drinking." Whatever. So long as I don't have to clean up tequila puke ever again, I guess I don't have an issue with it.

Dad is working an early shift tomorrow—apparently Hulhazy Front has no issue with random hospital scheduling, even though it feels like this place is the most minuscule of pimples on the face of the earth—so Tanner will probably get away with it. He's never outlandishly irresponsible, anyways. There's not anything he can't get away with, it'd seem. Guess one of us had to have that particular talent.

A slight breeze blows over towards me, sending chills down my spine. I wrap one arm around my legs, holding the other out so that I can keep scrolling on my phone. I reached the bottom of Max's small page, so now I'm just on the home feed. I can't bring myself to like anything, but I can still see everything I'm missing.

It hurts. I exit out of Instagram.

It's easier staring out at the sea, even though it makes my chest tight and my breath shallow. Easier than scrolling Instagram to stalk people I've hardly spoken to in years as they live a life I never knew I could miss. Easier than meeting new people, which I know was Tanner and Dad's intent with this ... beach thing. Whatever. Everyone here seems to already have their own groups anyway, even if they are cool-ish, like that girl who kicked sand in my eyes.

She was cool-ish. Max would like her.

Ugh. I need to stop thinking about Max.

Has Max stopped thinking about me?

I need to stop staring out at the sea and reminiscing. Woodbury is in the past.

I stand, brushing sand off the back of my sweatpants as I rise. I don't even bother folding the towel before heading back in the direction of the parking lot, where our rusty Odyssey, Dusty Springfield, sits unattended. There are these little foothills that lead to the gravel lot, and I do my best not to slip on the loose sand.

Then I notice the little path almost hidden amongst the long, dry grass of the beach, winding up to the top of a hill with some of those weird California trees we didn't have back in Minnesota. I can't hear anything alongside the dull roar of teens being stupid and the lazy lapping of the sea—everyone must be on the beach. A place to be alone? That's not me by a car alone in a parking lot, a la Thelma & Louise? Yes, please.

The trail is steep, and I shine my phone flashlight so I can at least see where I'm going. There's a sudden hiss up ahead, a rustling of leaves. Footsteps scrape away into the darkness.

I freeze in my tracks. "Hello?" I call, all too prepared to be mauled by some beach-grove animal. "Um, sorry, I can—"

"Wait, wait, hold up," someone calls. I shine my flashlight up at the looming figure, and even though they move a slender-fingered hand to cover their eyes, I recognise the girl who kicked sand in my face.

I point the light at the ground. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's cool," says Sand Girl, even as she tries to rub the lingering light from her eyes. "I don't blame you. Gotta make sure I'm not a ruffian with big fangs and duct tape, right?"

A salty breeze whips around the back of my neck, rustling a few loose strands of hair. "Exactly."

"Well," she says, "luckily for you, I left my duct tape in my car. So."

"And the fangs?" I shift my low ponytail over my shoulder and mindlessly braid a few random strands.

"Don't expose your bare neck to me, and we should be fine. Wanna come up?"

It's too dark for her to see my smile, especially as I move to turn off my phone light. Part of me wonders if I should tell Tanner where I am, but the other part of me knows that he's seen way too much Criminal Minds to not caps-scream at me about my naive stupidity. Besides, I'm sure he and Jace are doing whoknowswhat in the moonlit surf by now.

I was told to mingle. I am now mingling.

The top of the hill is surprisingly flat, although it tapers to a small lip—a dangling cliff's edge that gazes out over the glistening sea. Wispy clouds meander on the horizon, lit silver by the small sliver of moon. It's beautiful. Serene. Yet, somehow, it has me uneasy. I decide to ignore it and join Sand Girl at the edge of the cliff, folding my legs in a basket instead of letting them hang over the cliff's edge like she does.

"It's really gorgeous, isn't it?" Sand Girl says. "Best view in the whole town. Actually, only remotely-not-bad view in the whole town. We have scenic roads and everything. They just suck."

"Good to know I have very little to look forward to," I say, still working on my tiny, haphazard braid.

Sand Girl laughs quietly, this deep, breathy chuckle that sounds semi-asthmatic, then goes silent. Which is weird. I didn't want to come here tonight—it was Dad and Tanners' idea, and I agreed because I always agree—and I most certainly didn't want to talk to anyone. My plan was to Insta-stalk people and play Minecraft on my phone on a secluded part of the beach. But now, with this girl, I can see myself actually talking. I might even want to. But at the same time, I know I won't start the conversation. I mean, she did before, didn't she?

I really hope she doesn't expect me to continue this convo. If so, we are most definitely doomed.

Thankfully, Sand Girl leans back a bit and says, "So I have most definitely not seen you around before. Right? Because, if I have, then I'm a crazy douchebag and the sorriest of sorries."

"No, just moved here about a week ago." I'm not really looking at her—it's more like gazing past her shoulder—so I can't tell if she can see the small smile that's worked its way across my face by this point. "I'm Alyssa. Alyssa Hargreaves. She-her pronouns." Max was super big on finding out pronouns right away. That was the first thing they ever said to me—"My name's Max. I go by they-them pronouns. And you would be?" I might have gotten too used to it. How does rural California feel about gender identity?

"Elliot Moreno. Um, she-her." She sets her chin on her hand. "What grade are you in? You have one of those weirdly youthful faces, but, like, you seem about my age? But, you're also very short? So I am confused?"

Thank goodness, she's already carrying the conversation. My fingers untangle the braid, then set to work on another one. I'm a little surprised to feel a slight flip in my stomach at her words, though. "I'm surprised you got a good look at my face. It's so dark."

"I had to stare pretty darn intensely to make sure you blinked nice and rapidly. Also, quit dodging my questions, short child."

"Hey, I'm five-three!" I whip my gaze over to her, enjoying the feeling of the cool air as I laugh. When was the last time someone that wasn't Tanner made me laugh? "You're, what, six-one? Six-two? I'm sure just about everyone is short to you."

"Even Swedish foreign exchange students, yes." She really is tall. Elliot's head cranes down to meet my gaze. Her short hair ruffles against her forehead as the ocean breeze blows by. "I'm beginning to think you don't want to tell me your age. What is this, like, an Aragorn or Edward situation? Are you positively ancient?"

"I'm positively sixteen. Seventeen in August. Is that ancient?"

"Disgustingly so. I'm basically a foetus compared to you. Early October seventeen-er here."

"Gross. Don't talk to me, tall baby."

Elliot laughs. "Okay, but imagine a baby my height. A six-three baby."

"You're a foot taller than me?" I ask. "Wow. Can I make you my official Cupboard Slave?"

"Does this mean I have to make bacon, like the boy from the cupboard beneath the staircase from the series which has no author?"

"I was thinking more like reaching things I can't. But bacon works too."

Elliot nods slowly, gazing out at the sea with all seriousness as she considers this. "I'm guessing climbing your beanstalk to grab a plate is pretty taxing, isn't it?"

What is this girl's brain? "Oh, for sure. I—oh." My phone buzzes against my stomach from inside my sweatshirt pocket. It takes a second for the ringtone to follow, but the world seems to freeze as soon as it starts.

Buttercup by Hippo Campus. Max.

I stare at the green-lit screen for a moment, unable to say anything. Their contact name is still 'Max The Partner,' which I probably should have changed but couldn't bring myself to do before. Now, looking at it just makes my heart ache. More than ache. More than hurt, even. I don't know what I want to do. Sceam. Cry. Wail.

Ugh. Fuck, why now?

"I-I have to go," I manage, scrambling away from the cliff's edge without looking up from the screen. Why now? Why, of all times, would Max call me now? My head is scrambling. Did I accidentally like an ancient post? Did they get that weird feeling that someone was thinking of them, or do that whole sneeze thing? Or was it just pure chance?

Max should be off living that stupid pre-college summer life right now, not calling me. They should hate me for what I did. I know I hate me for what I did.

Elliot starts to stand too, but I'm already rushing down the steep hill, back towards the parking lot. The ringtone fades off, right as Elliot calls down the side of the hill awkwardly, "Oh, okay? Bye, then?"

Buttercup starts up again. Why? Why? Why?

Tanner left Dusty Springfield unlocked, thank goodness. I slip into the passenger seat before taking a deep, steadying breath. I can do this.

"Max?"

A/N:

Woo, the first two chapters are up!!! I finished this draft on the 21st and finally hit 50K today, the 27th (I was so wiped after a 13K day, lmao). The final word count is over 71K words, you guys, and I am so excited to share with you guys this new journey of Elliot and Alyssa's!

What are your guys' thoughts on these first few chapters?

Happy to be back! I've missed you all so, so much. ;DDD

Edit: I feel so weird not updating the author's note. Ohhhh well.