10:00 PM

Another bonfire. Evidently, it's the only thing to do around here besides bar-hop. We're back to the spot from the bonfire and I hate that it already has bad memories for me.

Trix was right. I am dramatic.

Travis wants to skinny-dip.

It's a pretty split decision and only half of us stay back by the fire. Trix and Meg disappear to the car to get blankets and Alex takes out his guitar once again.

"Ems." Brooks's voice startles me. I jump a little.

"Jay," I nod.

My heart races in my chest. It's beating so fast that if he were some mythical mentally abusive vampire he'd be able to hear it. No doubt.

He takes a step toward me. I smell the salt rolling off his skin. New cologne: Summer in a Bottle. "Walk with me?"

Brooks stretches out his hand. It looks so inviting. I haven't been this attracted to toned forearms since ... well ever. And his fingers. The kind of fingers you just know are dexterous at life. A walk? It seems friendly, not ill intentioned. Am I strong enough for it? No. Am I strong enough to stop it? No.

"I'll walk." I stand up, careful to avoid his hand. He rolls his eyes and turns to follow me.

We walk toward the water, our backs to the rest of the world. With each step the guitar is more muffled by ocean waves. I'm cautious to walk close enough to Brooks that I can hear him, almost feel him there. Not that it's dark, I mean I can see him. Thanks moon and stars. But still, I remain far enough away that I can trust myself. Trust half-buzzed Emmy.

Our feet meet the water. It laps at our ankles. It's been too long since I've felt the east coast beneath my toes. I know, what a Jersey thing to say.

"It was kind of fun crushing you today." Brooks grins.

"Crushing? Please. Glad you feel good about being put on the better team." I can't help it. I smile.

"Don't downplay my skill."

"Yea right." I roll my eyes. "Your only skill is being like 6'4" on a good day."

"You noticed I'm taller?" He sounds pleased, cocky even. Cock. Fuck you, Emmy. Focus.

"Hard to miss." I say, turning to him. "Almost too tall if you ask me."

"I've noticed quite a few things changed with you too." Brooks inches closer on the sand.

Hands to yourself, Em.

"Years will do that." I joke. "I'm just glad you're still good at Chicken."

"We're good at Chicken. Team effort," he says.

"Our one claim to fame." I roll my eyes.

"You know Emmy, I've developed some other skills I'd like to show you."

I turn and gasp, eyes bulging wide. He tosses his head back and laughs at my reaction.

"Please. If I remember correctly, most of those skills were beyond repair." I regroup quickly. I'm a pro.

"Like I said, I've developed." Brooks smirks.

"Well keep the developments to yourself." I smile. Brooks laughs.

The laughter feels nice, almost normal.

"So can I ask you?" Brooks's godlike voice distracts me. I steal a glance at his perfectly sculpted face rivaling marble under the moonlight. Seriously, what is going on? Hi Universe, Zeus called, he wants his demi-god back.

"Ask me? What?" I answer.

"Why you came back. Why now?" He isn't looking at me. He's pondering all pensively and looking at the ocean. In the dark. I get it. It's a vibe and a half right now. We're both treading this shallow water –worried we will drown where we can stand. Does he feel it too? This raw and visceral energy?

"Trix wouldn't stop bothering me," I tease.

"I buy that." He runs his fingers through his hair. "But really. Any other reason?"

"I don't know," I admit.

My drunken self has many things she'd like to offer, but somehow I resist her. Because I was finally unafraid? Finally felt strong enough? Other things I can never admit aloud to him?

"It just felt like time." I confess to both of us.

"I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see you again." Brooks walks slowly beside me.

"You wondered about me? What a privilege." I keep my voice steady. Don't fangirl the demi-god, Em.

"Ha-ha, don't flatter yourself. I may have thought about you once or twice," he admits.

"Only once or twice?" I ask, feigning disappointment. "Had to at least have been nine or ten."

"It was maybe nine or ten... hundred." Brooks laughs. I laugh. We laugh together like nerds reading the same comic book. Sorry nerds.

We laugh together and I swear it's a melody that feels real to my soul. Like I've been waiting to hear my favorite song again.

"That's good to know. Didn't think you'd have much time to think between all the blondes." I joke, referencing his many social media babes.

"Jealously looks kinda hot on you, Ems." Brooks teases.

"Please, green is not my color." I laugh.

"NC is full of babes. What can I say?" He shrugs. I absolutely hate him.

"Spoken like a true lax bro," I say, fake applauding.

He takes a fake bow.

It's nice, maybe, that we can joke about him being a player now. Not like it's the reason we broke up or anything.

"So," I bite my lip. "Why are you back now?"

"It just," he pauses. "Felt like time."

I glance at him sideways and laugh. What a dick. "Stealing my line. Very original."

"I try," he laughs. "But really, Travis wouldn't stop bugging me."

"Ha-ha," I fake laugh.

"I came back for my mom. To help out a bit. Like you, I won't be staying the rest of the summer."

"Your mom? Is everything OK with her?" I ask. Brooks's mother and father were almost like a second set of parents to me growing up. My mom didn't tell me any news about them. I also didn't ask.

"My parents sort of ...split last fall." Brooks goes quiet. I feel him tense a bit.

"Split? No way! But they always... I mean." I stop myself.  What do I mean? It's not like I knew them knew them.

His mom was always warm and friendly and wore brightly colored Hawaiian shirts a lot. She picked us up from school when we were still too young to drive. Brooks's dad is another story. Not so warm and not as friendly. Tough on Brooks and Brody, but Brooks go the brunt of it. Always pushed his sons to play sports and diet and lord only knows what else.

"I know. It's OK. It's what they needed. Dad's left to Florida to run his new business. Branch off from the B&B. Mom's been left with everything here."

"Wow. It must be a lot for her." I'm sure it is.

"It's been an adjustment. She'll never admit she needs help. But Brody is around a lot now. He moved back after graduating UNC last year."

"Oh my god, Brody graduated? No way!" I laugh. Brody is his little brother. Betting he's not so little anymore and wonder if he had a massive glow-up like Brooks did.

"Didn't forget about him, did you?" He laughs.

"Hard to forget. He was always the handsome one." I smirk.

"Yea yea, that's Brody." Brooks rolls his eyes.

"I guess I forgot he was so close in age. He'll always be fifteen to me." I say.

I dig my toes in the sand, engrossed in and alarmed by the conversation –the vibe –the palpable ease settling between us.

I'm aware this isn't good. But I'm also aware this is so good.

"So why Florida?" I ask.

"Miami to be exact." Brooks smiles. "Bothers me to visit every month."

I laugh. I can't picture Brooks and his dad together in Miami. At the same time I can.

"What's his business?" I ask. Last I knew, his parents were running *owning* several Bed and Breakfasts in town. They may have purchased a small motel chain along the Jersey shore. If my social media stalking memory serves me correctly.

"He purchased Star Resorts." Brooks looks at me, like he's trying to gauge my reaction.

"STOP! When did he do that?" I ask.

Stars Resorts is a massively popular hotel conglomerate located along the entire US coastline. Like, next level huge.

"Ha-ha. The deal has been in the works for years. Since I was still in school really. Under contract for two years and finalized last year."

"Wow. Things are really changing for your family, huh?" I say.

"They are. I try not to notice it. I'm doing my thing and we'll see where that takes me." Brooks shrugs.

"Living your best life?" I laugh at myself.

LIVING YOUR BEST LIFE. Wtf is wrong with you, Emmy? I mean, same. Living your best life, but NEVER SAY IT OUT LOUD. Brooks can hardly answer over laughing at me.

"Living my best life yes. Similar to you I expect? Aren't you all zen and shit?"

"All zen and shit. My slogan."

"Great slogan."

Brooks's smile literally reflects the moonlight. I'm blinded. "No plans to move home?" I ask.

"No plans." He shakes his head. "How about you?"

I shake my head back. "No plans."

"So here we are," Brooks says, sitting back down. "Two people with no intention of moving back home. And we are both back home." Brooks tosses back his head and laughs.

"Temporarily home. Two weeks. Well, like one and a half weeks now." I remind him. "How about you?"

"About two weeks."

"Pretty convenient." I nod.

"Great coincidence," Brooks agrees. Something flashes in his eyes and I think maybe it's the old him. It's the him I remember from years ago. The one I knew before he hurt me.

"You're different. You've changed." I can't stop the words before they escape my lips.

"And?" He urges, sensing or maybe knowing there's more.

"And it's nice. I don't know what I expected or how I thought this would be, but it's –it's not bad." I tuck my flyaways behind my ears.

"Not bad," Brooks says, nodding. "You either."

I laugh and punch his shoulder and he grabs my wrist. I drop my hand to his skin and trace the outlines of his tats.

"New developments?" I smirk at him.

"A few," he laughs.

I examine them now, up close enough to see the detail. They are thin lines, minimally sketched like with a fine-tip marker, geometric looking shapes with clear edges.

"Moon phases?" I say, running my fingers over a mini row of moons. This tat is just under the hem of his short sleeve. "Is this for your changing moods?"

"No, thank you," Brooks says, pulling down his sleeve. "It's for the tides –the ocean –reminds me that we have no control over some things."

I study a single B initial, for his last name no doubt. There are some random triangles and a few circles, filled in, that I'm sure are significant of something. A bare geometric butterfly outline is on the underside of his bicep.

Brooks and butterfly don't really seem to go together.

"And this one?" I playfully pinch his skin.

"Just a butterfly," Brooks shrugs. He looks away, and I get the feeling it's not just a butterfly.

"Right."

"How about you? Any tats?" Brooks asks.

"One," I smirk.

"Yea?" Brooks's eyes light up. He looks down at my body. "Let me guess where... tramp stamp?"

"Please, you should know I have more class than that." I laugh.

"Where is it? What is it?" Brooks asks.

"Well, you can't see it. You'll have to use your imagination." I tease.

"Trust me, you don't want me to do that."

"I mean, fair." I laugh. I pull my hair tightly up to reveal the top of my neck right below my hairline.

"WYWH?" Brooks reads. "What's that? Someone's initials?"

"Please," I scoff. "Like I'd ever be that stupid. It's an acronym."

"For?" Brooks asks. I shiver when his thumb traces over the skin on my neck.

Kill me.

"That I will leave to your imagination," I quip.

Brooks runs to his car parked a block away to grab me a sweatshirt. The misty air low key biting at our faces in the middle of the night. He comes back and tosses it at my feet. It's an old gray hoodie, the armholes slightly torn. As I slip it over my head, I'm almost sure I've worn it before.

It's an unspoken understanding that neither of us are the same people. But we're also the same. We're us. Only time has changed us. Morphed us. Maybe we are both who we always wanted to be. Had we remained together, we would have lost those people.

Minutes pass.

Hours.

Lifetimes.

We've covered more ground inside the span of a bonfire's lifetime than I'm positive most people cover in actual lifetimes. Everything.

Can't say if we remember much. Our heads weren't really there.

Our souls were speaking.

On uncharted planes of existence.

I couldn't tell you how many people were still on the beach when we walked back past the smoldering pile of embers. A very light pink was breaking on the horizon by the time we reached the pier. We walked the short block to his truck when he turned to face me.

"Can I walk you back?" He asks, so close, leaning into me. If I take one step in, my chest will be pressed against his. I'll be so close to him.

Loaded Q. I know what he's really asking. My core burns at his words. He is not 18 anymore. I know what I want to say. I am not 18 anymore. But I can't. We can't.

"It's three blocks." I say, taking a step back. "I think I can find my way."

"It's been a few years," he shrugs. "Want to make sure you don't get lost."

"Chivalry lives." I tug off his hoodie. My 18-year-old self would have kept this. Slept in it. Cried in it when he left.

He rolls his eyes, but smiles. I smile.

I turn and leave him holding his own hoodie. He can sleep in it tonight. Hopefully it smells like me.

OK, so let's get something straight now. I'm very much against being the helpless maiden chilling in the tall tower, awaiting rescue from the big bad dragon by a fancy prince. I'm also anti love affairs with emotionally abusive vampires. I do not believe in needing someone else. Not because I'm too cynical (definitely am) or because I'm afraid to get hurt again (oh, hey Brooks). I don't believe another human being should hold a power over you that rivals the power you have over yourself. Too often that's the case. Unhealthy. Sickening. Shit.

Fuck if I ain't about to eat my own words.

Why?

The ENTIRE three-block walk back to the quaint little street of Broadway, I am dead inside. Not like zombie dead. Not my life sucks dead. No, dead like this is heaven dead. The kind of dead that makes me feel alive. I have all the answers now. So as I pass by the rainbow row of multi-colored homes lining this beach-town street, I wonder why did I leave?

Why did I give in to Brooks so easily? Surely, our break-up wasn't that bad. It was exaggerated. Played it up in my mind as a reason to move on from this dull small town. I needed to leave it. I didn't need to leave Brooks too.

At least that's what I tell myself.

I do this thing. Bear with me and get over it.

I like to pick a song with lyrics that I'm feeling like emotions. Like at a specific memory or time a song sort of plays as the soundtrack to the montage in my mind. We all have it. I know we do.  I have that moment a lot.

I'm having that moment now.

Yellowcard's Ocean Avenue. The fucking epitome of summer love songs and for some reason it's just blaring in my mind's radio.

So begins the mixtape.

...
[COMING SOON]