Ross

Upwelling. Noun. [uhp-wel-ing]. The vertical movement of water up to the ocean surface from the ocean floor.

I spread the checkered picnic blanket on the beach and pull out a set of brown paper bags and little white votive candles I bought at the dollar store. First, I fill the paper bags with sand so they sit upright. Then, I place a single votive candle in each bag. I slip the lighter from my pocket, only used once when I tried my first and last cigarette at the age of fifteen, and light the candles so they cast a soft glow over the blanket through the thin walls of the paper bags. Romance isn't exactly my forte, but I figure I owe Riley some grand gesture for what an idiot I was the other day. Thus, candles and the beach.

The Hawaiian shirt guy in the surf shop was right; she's hot and she likes me. What the heck was wrong with me? Why did I have to clam up and destroy this tentative, fragile thing growing between us? Maybe I should have just let things end when Riley walked away, but the summer's only halfway over. I need more time with her.

I know I owe her more than romance, however, and more than even an apology. I owe her openness and honesty and an answer to the question that sent me into a tailspin. I have to tell her the truth about my fears and the bonds that tie me to the island. No one has ever pushed me towards this sort of vulnerability before, not the kind of vulnerability that causes an aching in your heart, that squeezes your heart and empties your breath from your lungs. This is a terrifying, enthralling, heartbreaking sort of vulnerability.

I relax onto the blanket and rest my hands behind my head as I lean back to gaze at the sky. The moon is a tight crescent from the near-eclipse which makes the stars shine all the more brightly. I inhale and exhale, letting my chest rise and fall. Just relax. I'm not telling her everything, of course. There are too many secrets for one moonlit night and a girl I just met. Maybe she'll eventually pry all of my secrets out of me like a treasure chest filled with rusty weapons rather than gold. Then again, maybe she'll fly away before she has the chance.

My phone vibrates. Finally. I texted Riley fifteen minutes ago, but still haven't heard anything back from her. I unlock it and glance at the screen; it's Javier who's on volunteer babysitting duty for the night.

"Crap."

She's not going to show up. Maybe I waited too long. Maybe I blew it. Maybe she doesn't care enough to try to make amends.

"Hey, stranger."

The dulcet tone of her voice lifts my spirits in the heartbeat it takes to turn towards her. With the sun set and magenta streaking across the sky, the glow of the crescent moon sets off Riley's silhouette and her eyes are pale and ethereal against the darkness. She gives me a half smile, plucky, undaunted, but she remains a few steps away. I hate even this short distance between us.

I scramble to my feet, nearly knocking over a candle. "You came."

"I came." Her half smile rises as she cocks an eyebrow. "What, didn't think I'd show?"

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't."

"Is that an apology?"

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "I screwed up, Ry. And I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you did," she says, her gaze slipping from mine to the roaring waves. "Maybe I pushed you too far."

"No." I take a halting step towards her. "I mean, yeah, maybe. But I want us to move forward. I didn't mean--I didn't want to end like that. Because I was being stupid and defensive." I release a sigh. This is the part I've been dreading. "You were right."

Riley raises an eyebrow, a grin playing at her lips. "I like the sound of that."

"I--I got scared."

She takes a step closer to me, releasing her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't--it's hard for me to talk about stuff. I just don't think you'd understand."

Crap. That's not what I meant to say.

"I want to understand, though. That's why I ask so many questions. I'm not being nosy." She rolls her eyes. "Well, okay, a little nosy, but I'm trying to understand where you're coming from."

"I know. And I'm sorry I--I lashed out instead of telling you the truth."

Riley scrunches her nose. "Yeah, well, you were right. I mean, I'm kind of a hot mess. Emphasis on the hot."

I laugh, taking her hands in mine. Despite the season, her hands are cold in the waning hours of the night and I squeeze them between mine. Candlelight flickers across her face as she lifts her eyes to mine.

"So are you still scared?" she asks me.

Terrified. But I realize I'm less scared about telling her how I feel and more scared that I'll lose her if I don't. She's worth the risk of vulnerability.

"I want to leave this island," I confess. "You were right. But Ivy, Mason, Sammy, they're why I stay. My dad's a drunk and a deadbeat, and he can't take care of them, so I feel like I'm stuck here. And it's not that I don't want to spend time with the kids, but--I've never left. I didn't get to go to college or trade school or see the world or anything."

My eyes break from Riley's and I look down at our intertwined hands and then at the sand beneath us. "I got--I was tired of it all last year and I applied to this all expenses paid service internship. If you get in, you get to travel all over the world doing community serve. It was a long shot, though, and I never thought I would get in."

"But you did."

"But I did." A breath passes and Riley presses her lips together. I know she's dying to tell me to go, just like I've been screaming internally since I've found out. Go. Go. Go. "But I can't."

Riley doesn't say anything, but we both know why I can't. Despite trying to think through the question a thousand times, I've found no way around this obstacle. won't leave the kids with my deadbeat dad. I can't leave even though the opportunity I've always wanted is waiting for me.

"Ross..." Riley says, taking a step closer so she's only a hair's breadth away from me. She takes my hand in hers, racing my palm. "I know you love your siblings, but maybe it's time for you to do something for...for you. You've been waiting your whole life for this, haven't you?"

I release a long breath, scattering the strands of hair that dance across Riley's forehead. My voice low and throat scratchy, I murmur, "It's all I've ever wanted."
"Then go," she urges. "I'm sure people like the Covingtons can help watch the kids, and your dad might never have the chance to change if you're always here. Plus, don't you want to set an example for them? That it's good to go after your dreams?"

"Yeah, but--"

"If you want to go, we can figure out a way. Don't hold yourself back because you're afraid."

Fear. Riley and I both struggle with fear. Fear of letting people down, fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear of never finding what we've always sought. But her words bring me hope. Maybe we can figure out a solution. It's just nine months after all.

"Maybe."

Even admitting that going on the service trip is a possibility is a huge step. I've been telling myself for weeks that I can't go--I can't let myself go--and a surge of hope rises in me.

"So, uh, not to be narcissistic, but what was all that in your text about telling me why you liked me?" Riley asks, tilting her head and grinning up at me.

I forget all about the internship for a minute and resist the urge to kiss her senseless. It's not just that she's gorgeous and funny, but she also cares enough to push me past my boundaries. That's why I went all out with this whole big romantic gesture thing.

"Okay, this is really cheesy."

"I work at a pizza shop. I'm familiar with the idea."

I scratch my head in embarrassment and reach for my backpack, grabbing the handful of Long Beach Island postcards I purchased a few days ago.

"So, I know that the summer's going to end eventually." If only it were infinite. "I want you to remember this island, and being here, and...and me."

The strings of my heart tug at the words. Someday soon, Riley and I will end, and she'll leave this island and never come back. Someday, this will all be a distant memory, hazy from the summer glow.

"So, here," I say passing her the small stack of postcards. "Each one says something that I like about you, and each postcard picture is something I like about the island. Just so you remember." As Riley turns the first postcard over, I continue, "I want you to add these to your postcard collection so someday when you have a family of your own, you can tell them about that one crazy summer with the lifeguard who rescued you from drowning."

Riley's face transforms in the candlelight with my words, her eyes growing rounder and the corner of her mouth rising. A bittersweet image of Riley comes to my mind, sitting next to a fireplace hearth showing her kids a box of postcards and showing her kids. I second guess some of the things I wrote on those postcards for a second.

She bursts out laughing. "Are you freaking serious?"

She shows me the message on the back of the first postcard and I can feel my face heating up. Of course that would be the first one she reads.

"I like you because you're hot? Seriously? Just how shallow are you?" she says although the teasing grin on her face tells me she doesn't mind the compliment.

I snatch it out of her fingers. "Just keep reading."

As she scans through the next few postcards, much more appropriate than the first one, I start to get nervous. Did I go too far? Is all this romance too much for a summer fling? Am I the only one that wants more?

Riley drops the cards and they fall across the blanket, and then she looks up at me, her eyes bright and lids heavy with meaning.

"Too cheesy?"

"I like cheese," she says, her grin widening into a full smile.

She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me, erasing the memory of my stupid mistakes and the week of not talking and the fear that threatens to keep me from moving forward. She kisses me, and I forget about everyone else. I only belong to her.