with dizzying orange and luminous pink, kissing the horizon where it met the ocean. The deep blue stretched out, sunlight sparking off the water. The lazy crash of waves joined the music. The crisp air mixed with the smell of salt water and exhaust.
Yadriel veered onto the Pacific Coast Highway where it ran along mansions and pale beaches.
“Faster!” Julian demanded, twisting in his seat to face Yadriel.
“I’m going fast enough!” Yadriel told him, the speedometer hovering at the speed limit.
“FASTER, YOU COWARD!” Julian gripped Yadriel’s knee.
A chill shot up his thigh. A breath caught in his lungs. He could feel it. The pressure of Julian’s fingers, the weight of his palm.
Yadriel glanced over, meeting Julian’s hungry stare. There was a recklessness in his smile. Sunset burned in his eyes. Heat pooled in Yadriel’s stomach. He huffed, but a grin was already pulling at the corners of his lips, betraying his crumbling resolve.
Gripping the steering wheel at precisely ten and two, Yadriel checked the mirrors. His knuckles flexed over the smooth leather, and, with a roar of the engine, Yadriel’s back pressed into the seat as the Stingray charged ahead.
Julian howled with delight. He gripped the door and leaned out the open window.
Yadriel’s hand shot out to grab him and felt ridiculous when his fingers went right through Julian’s shoulder.
Dimples pressed into his cheeks, Julian stretched his arms out. He shouted something, but it was swallowed up by the thundering wind.
Julian was unleashed, brilliantly burning.
It gave Yadriel a head rush as they sped past crashing waves, palm trees, and beaches painted pink by the sunset. The engine thrummed through his body. His heart hammered in time.
When they finally pulled into the parking lot along the beach, the sun was nothing more than a smudge of burning red against the horizon. The party was already in full swing. A huge crowd of people gathered around the bonfire, tucked between two abandoned lifeguard towers. Music blared from a set of speakers somewhere. The crackling flames sent crooked shadows dancing toward the lapping waves.
Yadriel pulled out his phone. He had several missed calls from his dad. He scrolled through the texts before quickly clearing them out. Yadriel didn’t have the stomach to read them, let alone listen to any of the voicemails, so he turned off the notifications.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Yadriel groaned, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.
“Yes!” Julian said, bounding to his side.
Yadriel glared up at him. “This is my worst nightmare, Jules.”
He was unbothered. “This is my last dying wish, Yads,” he said with mock sincerity, tugging the mask up over Yadriel’s nose.
“Come on, come on, come on!” Julian called, waving Yadriel on as he headed for the party.
Reluctantly, Yadriel followed.
For such a huge group of people, he felt surprisingly invisible, and that, for once, was a relief. When he spoke to Julian, his mouth was covered so no one could see him and think he was talking to himself. Not to mention, his voice didn’t travel very far in the cacophony of music and voices.
Everyone had showed up in costume, or at least a mask. There were mermaids, devils, and detailed disguises. Some people just threw on one of those colored paper masks and called it good.
He didn’t recognize anyone, and he kept reminding himself that no one recognized him, either, and no one cared. No one gave him a strange look, no one even noticed him when he accidentally bumped into them. He was just a boy in a sea of bodies.
Julian was in his element. He liked noisy places and noisy people. A stormy boy who seemed most comfortable in chaos. Everyone cheered and danced and drank. The air smelled of smoke, alcohol, and sea salt. He joined a group of people crowded around a guy in a horse mask, laughing as he gulped down a beer. Julian whooped and cheered. People moved through him, but no one seemed to notice. Either it was too cold for them to tell, or inebriation had dulled their senses. Probably a combination of both.
“Beer?” Julian asked, gesturing to large boxes of cheap beer that had been ripped open, spilling cans from their torn mouths.
“No,” Yadriel said, tense with even more discomfort, if that were possible. There were several reasons he hated going to parties, one of them being the pressure to drink.
Julian looked around at a Styrofoam cooler and several handles of liquor stuck in the sand. “They’ve probably got tequila or somethin’—”