Maybe Once, Maybe Twice(70)

Sandy wind hit my cheeks as I flew past the shaky wooden slats that bridged the mansion with Georgica Beach. I let the stretch of dunes tickle my arms, with a building heat in my chest and a widening grin on my face. My toes found hot sand, and I sprinted past the quiet shoreline. I let out a loud shriek as I slammed my pale shoulder into a booming wave.

I plunged into the icy ocean, letting it cool me from head to toe. I shot up out of the water, cold waves splintering around my skin. It was a rush of adrenaline that only made my heart beat faster. I whipped my head to the shoreline as the waves crashed against my back. Asher stood with his arms crossed on the shore, staring at me for a moment. He walked forward, planting his bare feet where the ocean foamed at the sand.

“THIS”—he shook his head at me, his grin widening—“THIS FEELS FAMILIAR.”

That’s because it was.

I couldn’t help it. Asher Reyes brought out my daring side. He had a way of sprinkling fairy dust all over ordinary objects, cracking my universe wide open with a slow, long stare. He made me feel as though we were trapped inside a wild, hyperbolic, neon wonderland—a place where I had the audacity to get away with anything.

I always jumped in first during those last two summers at camp. We snuck out of our respective cabins and met at the gazebo, finding a soft patch of earth to roll around him. We’d lay with our limbs folded around each other as we took in the stars. The way he spoke about the world filled my mind to the brim. When Asher was midsentence, musing over the philosophical wonders of nature—saying that one thing that made me want to drown inside the corners of his brain—I sucked in air and stood up, springing away from him, bare feet on wet grass, running faster and faster, leaving my muse sprinting on my heels. I dove off the salty dock, fully clothed, headfirst into the warm moonlit water, and I waited for him to join me. It was a game of cat and mouse. Night after night.

Here I was eighteen years later, waist-deep in water, gazing up at Asher, my wide green eyes unblinking. The smile faded from his lips as he took his shirt off, tossed it forcefully behind his back, and walked straight toward me, into the water without flinching.

The waves crashed around his bare torso as he dove headfirst under a wave. Asher stood up right in front of my body, shaking his straight jet-black hair onto my face, like a dog. I playfully pushed him back, letting my hands tingle against his bare, wet skin. I watched the salt water roll down his jawline, his lips, his beating chest.

“The lake was warmer,” he said, grinning.

“Wimp.”

I splashed his face, and he leaped toward me, folding his arm around my waist, tugging me under a wave with him. We came up for air, laughing, and I edged my shoulder into his.

Suddenly, distant laughter matched ours. We shifted our attention yards ahead to the shoreline, where a little boy—no more than five—ran along the sand, gleefully piloting a whale-shaped kite in his hands. His big eyes were glued to the kite floating in the cloudless blue sky.

“If only we could go back to a time when the best day ever was flying a kite,” I said, watching the boy.

“Before the world got its hands on us,” Asher said quietly, with sorrow trembling behind the words.

Asher’s eyes seemed to have swallowed a dark cloud, and looking at this little boy, on this very day, I knew why.

We stood there shoulder to shoulder, neither of us saying a word as we took in the boy’s awed smile. Finally, I felt Asher’s eyes on me.

“Hey,” Asher said, softly.

I turned to look at him.

“I think—” He stopped, hesitating to continue, as if he didn’t want to upset the rush of our bodies side by side in a body of water. “I have a feeling that some part of today wasn’t easy for you. I don’t exactly know why, I mean I can guess, but I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk about it.”

I felt a sinking weight in my pounding chest. I wasn’t sure if it was the ache of a bad memory, or the fact that a man I had once loved was making me fall in love with him all over again. Maybe it was a little bit of both. My mouth was open as waves thrashed around me. I couldn’t find a way to deliver the words. While this afternoon’s studio heroics left me buzzing—plucky and brave—some part of my past still felt too delicate for him to hold. I sucked in the salty air as Asher shifted his hard jawline.

“Same,” I found myself saying.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head at me in confusion.

“I know what today means for you. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

Asher put his hand over his jaw and flicked his eyes away from mine.

Today was his late brother’s birthday. July fourteenth. His brother should be turning thirty-eight. Instead, he was a weight inside Asher’s chest. I knew his brother’s birthday was the reason Asher had flown to the Hamptons for the weekend. It was the reason Asher had assembled a team in a recording studio on a Sunday. He hated sitting quietly with his own pain on this painful day. Strangely, it was also one of the reasons I was able to sing earlier in the afternoon, when all I wanted to do was crumple to the floor. Asher’s brother would be seventeen forever. I was alive with the ability to rise and grow out of my own trauma. I refused to be stuck in a moment when I had a lifetime ahead of me.

After I found out about Asher’s brother during our second summer at camp, the July fourteenths that followed went the same way: I didn’t dare leave his side until the sun came up. I wondered if this day would be any different.