THE AFTERNOON SUN brightens the ochre furniture of the Myers' living room. Family photos line the beige walls and inflate my heart with a sweet nostalgia—pictures of Roger when he was in the police academy, a photo of a smiling Keely when she'd visited Sun's family in Korea. The Myers' house had always been my second home, and it's almost exactly as it was eight years ago.

Keely nudges me as we walk down the hall. "You guys were sickening last night. I literally wanted to vomit."

I hide my face with my hands. "Shut up! We're not that bad. And we're just friends."

"Sure," she sings.

Laughing, we enter the kitchen, where the smell of rosemary and tomatoes soak the air. Keely hasn't left me alone about Miles all morning—but I still haven't told her that West has been on my mind more than anything else.

Dread clenches my stomach, along with the acidic sensation of alcohol stagnating in my system. I was so freaking drunk last night that I don't trust my own memories of my conversation with West, and I keep replaying every detail, wondering if I'd made a total ass of myself. Knowing me, I probably did.

I guess I'm proud of myself for getting so close to the water without losing it, but right now, the memory of waves crashing in my ears add to the thumping in my chest and the nausea congregating in my gut.

"What are you making, Ma?" Keely plops down at the table, me right beside her.

Sun's black blouse is adorned with maroon roses, and is a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. She stands at the stove and stirs a pot. "Tomato soup."

"For breakfast?" Keely grumbles. "I want pancakes. Or waffles."

Sun raises her eyebrows. "Twelve-thirty is not breakfast time, Keely. If you want breakfast, have a bowl of cereal."

Keely groans and drags herself to the pantry. "Lucky Charms okay, Liv?"

"Sure, anything's fine. I just need food."

I cram my palms into my eyes at the sound of socks moving across the hardwood floor. Roger's in full uniform, and he squints when he sees us, pronouncing the wrinkles on his dark skin. His mustache and grumpy face remind me of a walrus. "Well, look who finally decided to wake up. I trust you two didn't get up to any illegal activities last night?"

"Of course not, Dad." Keely shoots me a smirk.

Roger can probably smell the booze on us, but he leaves us and goes into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Sun. Keely's parents let her drink—as long as she's responsible. Which she is. Keely's the most responsible vodka-loving sixteen-year-old I've ever met.

A heaping bowl of Lucky Charms appears under my nose.

"God, I feel like crap." Keely shovels a spoonful her in mouth and takes out her phone.

I poke the marshmallows in my bowl and watch the milk transform them into gooey blobs. West's face sweeps into my mind, his black hair, his deep voice. Why didn't Keely ever tell me that he grew up to look like that?

I force myself to eat the too-sweet cereal and take a deep breath. "So, I ran into West last night."

Keely drops her phone. "What? You're kidding. When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Outside, when I went up to the cliff." I flick a strand of hair behind my ear. "And I felt weird bringing it up around Miles, since he said they're like, not talking."

"You're too respectful, Liv. I want the drama. You should just ask Miles what happened with West—I bet he'll tell you."

"You don't know anything about it at all?"

"Not a thing. Everyone talks—you know how it is here, everyone talks about everyone. But who knows what's true? Miles and Faye just say that West moved out after getting disowned, and that's that. But there've been tons of other rumours about him over the years."

I glance over at Sun and Roger. He tries to feel her up, but she swats him away with a teasing smile. They're awesome people and I love them, but I don't want them to hear us talking about guys. It's just weird, not that it isn't weird for them to be heading to second base over a pot of tomato soup with two sixteen-year-old girls ten feet away.

"Okay, tell me," I whisper, "please, you're killing me."

Keely shrugs. "The rumours range from everything to drug dealer, to serial killer, to not even being related to the Hendricks."

"Of course they're related. They have the same eyes. And dimples."

"Hey, I didn't say I believed it. That's just what people say."

I scoff. "And serial killer? Really? People need to get a life."

"Eh... I could see it. Well, I can't not see it. I mean, the guy comes from one of the richest families in Caldwell—like literal millionaires—yet he works at the auto body." Keely scrunches her nose. "It's a little weird."

"That doesn't make him a friggin' serial killer, Keely."

And wait a second... that guy I'd seen at the auto body yesterday. That was West. How am I only just making this connection? God, alcohol turns my brain into mashed potatoes.

"So he's what, a mechanic?" I ask.

"I think so, Liv, I dunno. What's with all the West, West, West? What happened to your gross obsession with Miles?"

I flinch. Okay, good point. Why am I thinking so much about West? Miles was my childhood best friend, after all. West had played with us, but he'd had a distinct Miles' Older Brother status. And thinking on it, West had always intimidated me—but if anything, that had made me want to impress him more.

Keely scrolls through her phone. I rest my head on the red tartan cloth of the kitchen table and shut my eyes. There's a comfort in the darkness, and as I rest, I tune out Keely's chewing, Roger and Sun's laughing, and remember a simpler time.

I wasn't always afraid of the water. In fact, I used to love it. I'd wanted to be a mermaid. But Keely wasn't that into swimming—she hated getting her hair wet. So I played with the Hendricks boys.

There's one day that always sticks out to me. I remember how blue the sky was, the smell of the sea, how nice it felt to dip my feet into the cold water after being in the summer sun all day. Miles and I must have been seven, so West would have been nine. Miles was acting like a brat—he was sick of always being the one who had to be "saved", so he wanted to play the villain for once, but West and I wouldn't let him. I don't like change, and West was always the bad guy. In our little minds, it just made sense. West was the oldest—and that made him the strongest. Miles is a month younger than me, so that made him the weakest.

We were out on the floating dock, which we'd always use as our "ship", when Miles had thrown a tantrum.

"It's not fair," he'd sputtered, boogers dripping from his nose, his big blue-green eyes filled with tears. "Liv always gets to decide everything, I don't wanna be the weakest, I wanna be the strongest!"

"Too bad, you little freak," West had spat. "I'm the pirate king, and you're the bitch. That's just how it is."

"I'm telling Mom you said that!"

"If you do, I'll ruin your life!"

"You already do!"

Then Miles had directed his anger at me—maybe knowing that he couldn't take his big brother—and had shoved me into the water, making me cry. West had then given him a wedgie and booted him in after me.

Miles cried and ran home. West got in big trouble that night, but that's all Miles ever told me about it.

I don't know why I hold onto that memory. Maybe it was one of the last times we all played together. Once West had turned ten, the boys in his grade started making fun of him for hanging out with us. Between his little brother and some girl versus the guys in his grade, I doubt it was a difficult decision for West to make.

"Damn," Keely mutters, breaking my reverie. "Speaking of serial killers."

I lift my head. "What?"

With a concerned frown, she flashes me her phone, where a massive headline reads: ANOTHER MUTILATED ANIMAL CORPSE FOUND IN CALDWELL BEACH.

My stomach drops. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, it started happening this year. Someone's been murdering poor little woodland creatures and like, leaving their bodies in gross positions."

Chills crawl up my arms. "Okay, that's seriously screwed up, Keely. Why didn't you tell me there was a literal serial killer in town?"

She snickers. "Don't worry about it, it hasn't happened in months—I honestly forgot. The cops will find out who it is. They're just killing poor little squirrels."

"Um, yeah, just like—"

"It's probably West."

"Shut up. It's not West."

Keely laughs and goes back to her phone. I sit there with pins and needles in my chest, but the sight of Roger in his cop uniform helps ease my worries. If there is someone killing animals, I'm sure Roger and the rest of the force will find them. Keely's right—it's nothing to worry about.

Still, I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of three sharp raps at the front door.

"Jeez, you okay?" Keely asks. "It's just the door."

"Who's here?" I don't know why my voice is trembling.

"Dunno, let's find out." She runs to the door, and seconds later, "Miles!"

Oh God. Miles? What is he doing here? I look down at my grubby grey sweats and volleyball t-shirt. At least Keely's yellow pajamas are cute—I look like a friggin' hobo.

Please, Keely, don't invite him in.

"You're here early," she chimes, "but come on in."

Damn it.

Miles walks through the archway to the kitchen wearing a sleeveless navy shirt that shows off the lean muscles on his arms. My face scorches.

"Oh, um, Miles. Hey."

"Hey, how's it going?" His Newfie accent is thick. He takes the chair in front of me and smiles.

I feel exposed. He shouldn't see me like this. I bet last night's makeup is smeared all over my face. And Miles, of course, looks perfect, with his fresh skin, dewy eyes and straight posture.

"Mr. Hendricks!" Roger walks over. "How're your parents doing? I haven't heard from them in ages."

"Hey, Mr. Myers. They're good. I'll tell 'em you said hi. Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

Roger puts his hands on his hips. "Who, this guy?"

Keely pinches the bridge of her nose. "Dad, please don't be embarrassing."

Miles looks at us with a grin, then back at Roger. "So, since it's sort of a special occasion that Liv's back in town, I asked my parents if we could hang out at our family's cabin for the weekend. But I first wanted to make sure it was okay if I invited Keely and Liv to come."

Roger's brows furrow in confusion, before hesitance darts across his face. Same, Roger, same. Why wouldn't Miles ask us first?

"Well, Miles, I don't know..." Roger looks at Keely. "Do you want to go, Lemon?"

Keely looks at me, then to her dad. "I mean, hell yeah, of course I do!"

Roger's brown eyes meet mine. "Olivia?"

Everyone looks at me.

"Um, yeah. Of course."

I'm not about to become The Grinch of Summer, and chilling at Miles' cabin will probably be awesome. Some warning would have been nice, though. I just got here yesterday and I haven't had a moment to breathe.

Sun comes over holding a bowl of orangey-red soup, steam lifting from it. "Will anyone else be going, Miles?"

"Nope, just us. And maybe my sister." Miles' dimples pronounce when he smiles. It's cute. Annoyingly cute.

"Well," Roger says, "if you promise not to be irresponsible, Keely, you and Olivia can go. But only for the weekend, got it?"

"And we'll need you to have your phones on the whole time," Sun says, worry creasing her brows. "I'll be calling your parents, Olivia, and letting them know the plan. So it's not a one-hundred percent okay until I have their approval, all right?"

"Okay," I agree.

I already know that Mom and Dad will say yes. The Hendricks' cabin is far away from the sea.

* * *

It's sweltering hot outside as Miles, Keely and I walk downtown. The sun flares off the sidewalk, but a cool breeze wafts in as seagulls squawk above our heads. My purple tank top is sticky on my skin.

"So we'll leave tomorrow," Miles says. "Come by my place around three or something."

"Sounds awesome!" Keely exclaims. "I actually can't wait. Right, Liv?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Can't wait." It's not a lie, I'm just out of it today.

Something shiny catches my eye. Across the street, West's car is in the parking lot of the auto body. Its metallic blue paint glistens in the late-afternoon sun, luminous and electric.

We're heading to Coffee Cabin for iced cappuccinos, but I can't tear my eyes from the garage. Or the guy leaning into the hood of an old red truck. West.

I should go say hi, right? Wouldn't it be weird to pass by and not say anything? He could have ignored me on that hill last night, but he didn't...

"There's West," I say, as if outing my thoughts will help me decide.

Miles stiffens, but I can't see his eyes behind his aviators. "Yep, there he is."

"I should go say hey."

"If you want," Miles says. There's something in his voice—no, it's a lack of something. Like he doesn't feel anything at all. He opens the door and enters the café, and Keely shrugs before following him inside.

I look back at the auto body—or more like I look back at West, still half-hidden by metal. What am I doing? I shouldn't bother him. But I've already committed to the idea, so I wait for a break in traffic and jog across the street.

The clink-clank of metal on metal pierces my hypersensitive ears. Customers stand around and watch mechanics work, and the thick smell of motor oil reminds me of Dad. He loves his cars—I bet he'd go crazy for West's. He used to have cool sports cars like that, but once he'd settled down with Mom and had me, the dorky minivan had seemed more practical.

The fate of suburbia, I guess.

With sweaty palms, I walk up behind West and stare at his back. He wears slate-grey coveralls and a tool belt around his waist, equipped with wrenches and other... gadgety, tool things.

It's not too late to turn back, Liv. You can high-tail it out of here before he even notices.

No, I can do this. I need to be confident. It's just freaking West—I don't know why I'm so nervous. I blame the hangover, take a deep breath and blurt out, "West?"

He turns to me and squints, the sunlight illuminating his irises into jewels before the shadows darken them. A smudge of black is smeared on his cheek, and when he recognizes me, he looks away.

"Oh, hey, you're here. At my work."

I take a hesitant step toward him, as if I'm approaching something dangerous, something that doesn't want to be approached. West is taller than Miles—and way taller than me.

"Yeah," I say. "I saw you and I just wanted to say hi."

"Oh. Hi."

"It was, um. Nice seeing you last night."

"Yeah, you too. How you feeling? You seemed pretty loaded."

"I'm okay. I was pretty drunk, honestly, it's kind of embarrassing. I must've said so much dumb shit to you," I say, spewing more dumb shit at him. What is wrong with me today?

"You were fine."

He turns back to the truck and screws with a thingamajig inside of it. I rock on my heels, hold my hands behind my back and think of something to say. Without that barrier of drunkenness, I take a moment to observe what he looks like, and I have to admit—he's more gorgeous in the daylight. More gorgeous than I even thought. I need to stop checking him out—it's getting creepy.

"So, you're a mechanic, eh?" I ask. Okay, Captain Obvious.

West doesn't look. "Apprentice, but yeah."

"That's cool. You always liked cars when we were kids."

"Uh-huh."

"So, do you work here a lot?"

"Almost every day. Gotta pay rent somehow."

It's weird for me to think of any of the Hendricks kids having to pay their own rent, or pay for their own anything.

"So—"

"Look, Olivia, I'm a little busy."

My chest plummets. What happened to Olive? And what's with the sudden piss-off tone in his voice?

"Oh... okay."

West wipes his hands with a rag and looks at me. I tug at my index finger. His eyes flick away before meeting mine again with a slight quirk in his dark brows.

Right.

That's my cue to leave.

"Well, see you later." There's that pathetic hopefulness in my voice again, and I give him a tight smile.

"Yep." West goes back to the hood of the car. I stand there like an idiot for another split second before I scurry across the street, my heart pounding in my throat.

Am I crazy, or was he just a dick to me?