Dawn by McKayla Box
Chapter 5
Gina is running across the parking lot toward me. “Come here, bitch, and make out with me!”
It’s later that night and Bridget and I have just gotten out of her car at the beach. The lot is already full and the bonfires on the beach are raging, big blobs of orange and yellow running up the sand along the shore. The ocean is inky black in the distance, just beyond the bodies and the music.
Gina leaps into my arms and wraps her entire body around me like she’s a chimpanzee, her legs curling around me as she squeezes the crap out of me. She kisses me hard on the cheek. “God, I’ve missed you.”
I hug her back and laugh. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“And me?” Bridget pouts. “I think I’m offended.”
Gina slides off of me and leaps at Bridget. “I saw her first!”
Bridget laughs and they hug.
“Ladies, it’s about damn time,” Maddie says, strolling up behind Gina. “We’ve been standing at the trunk of my car, waiting to have our first drink because Little Miss Hugger here insisted we wait until the four of us were together again, and I am fucking parched.”
I grab her and hug her as tightly as I hugged Gina. She giggles and hugs me back. I let go of her and she hugs Bridget.
In the moment, I’m filled with happiness. A year and a half ago, I didn’t even know the three of them. I was terrified moving to Sunset Beach. Now, I can’t imagine my life without them. There is something about standing here with my best friends in the parking lot that makes everything feel normal again.
Each of them looks the same, but different somehow. Like Bridget and I talked about, it’s only been four months and we saw each other briefly at Thanksgiving. But there’s a difference that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it’s just the fact that we’re out of high school and living on our own. Maybe that makes them look different to me.
Or maybe I’m just weird.
We walk across the lot to the trunk of Maddie’s Jeep Cherokee. The tailgate is up and inside is a box with assorted bottles of booze, as well as a bunch of plastic cups. Gina grabs a bottle of champagne, peels the foil off the neck, points it at the sky, and pops the cork up into the air with a thunk. The champagne fizzes out and spills over the mouth of the bottle.
“Just like Jared Sileo,” she says, grinning. “The first boy I fucked at USC. He lost control before we even got going.”
We all laugh. Maddie grabs the cups, hands one to each of us, and Gina pours the bubbly. She sets the bottle back in the box and grins at us.
“To the bitches being back together,” she says, raising her cup. “Ain’t no girls like my girls!”
We all touch cups and I sip the champagne, the bubbles tickling my nose, the alcohol warming my throat.
“I figured we might have to peel you off Trevor,” Maddie says, elbowing me in the ribs. “Or him off of you.”
I shrug. “Nope. I’m here with you guys.”
“I haven’t seen that beautiful boy yet,” Gina says. “Or Brett. But you know who I did see? Eric Logan. Do you guys remember him?”
“Uh, yeah, because we graduated like six months ago,” Bridget says. “We went to school with him for four years.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t remember him being hot,” Gina says. “I think he’s been lifting or something. His arms look huge. I might let him fuck me.”
Maddie rolls her eyes. “Really? You’ve been at USC for four months and the first thing you want to do when you come home to Sunset is have sex with a guy you ignored in high school for four years?”
“Look, it’s not my fault he got hot,” Gina says. “And my sex drive is higher than a kite, okay? If you think I’m gonna be home for a month and not get any, you’re crazy. Mr. Logan will just be the first in a long line.”
We all laugh.
The champagne has a relaxing effect on me and after we empty our cups, we refill with the supplies from Maddie’s trunk. I splash a little vodka into my cup with some Sprite. I’ve never been a big drinker and I haven’t turned into one since I’ve been at Santa Barbara, but the knots in my stomach feel hard and cold and I know that a little bit to drink might unkink them.
We walk across the lot and onto the beach. The sand is cool and soft beneath my feet and I flex my toes into it. The sand here feels different than it does up north. It feels familiar, safe. It’s the sand that changed my life.
People are gathered in clusters around the bonfires, laughing and talking, gesturing wildly. I see a lot of familiar faces and some I don’t recognize. I wonder if I just missed them in high school or if they’re seniors now and everyone is just blending together.
I say hi to a few people, but there’s only one person I’m looking for and that’s Trevor. But I don’t see him or Brett. I check my phone, but there are no messages from him. I think about texting him, but stop myself. He’ll be here. He told me he would be.
I just don’t understand why he’s not already.
Or why he wasn’t waiting at my house when I got home, anxious and excited to see me, like I feel about seeing him. I know that sounds needy and selfish, but I just don’t get it. I don’t really get the last four months at all. When I left, I thought we were in a good place.
But now?
I have no clue.
I walk down to the edge of the water, then eye the pier where Trevor and I jumped. I feel the smile tugging at my lips. I walk down the hardpacked sand, sipping my drink, the breeze rolling in off the water tickling my face. I wonder if I hadn’t agreed to jump with him that first time last fall if anything would’ve ever happened with us. It felt like the moment I fell in love with him and we couldn’t stay apart after that. We had our ups and downs, but it was that moment, jumping off the pier, holding his hand as we fell toward the ocean, terror and excitement rippling through me as we dropped toward the Pacific, that intertwined my life with Trevor Robinson’s for good.
“You should jump again,” a voice says behind me. A soft, sinister voice. “And drown yourself.”
I know that voice.
I hate that voice.
I haven’t had to hear it in what feels like forever.
And I knew I’d hear it tonight.
I just knew it.
I laugh, shake my head, and turn around. “Nice to see you, too, Shanna.”