I take it, wordless. What do I even say, seriously? Sputter one of my many questions? Why didn’t we go home last night? Why are we at the beach, in December, at dawn? Why do you still look so perfect and I’m, like, a zombie with a half-melted face?
“My parents think I’m at Molly’s,” Nash says. “But I really didn’t want to go to Molly’s.”
It’s tomorrow. I didn’t come home last night.
I reach for my phone. “Oh my God, Gramps.” I’m going to be grounded until graduation. At least.
“I texted Ollie. You’re at Molly’s too.”
Ollie is going to give me so much shit.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“The beach,” Nash says.
I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”
Nash laughs. “We’re still in Westport. Sherwood Island, technically.”
“Okay. But why—?”
“Give it, like”—he glances at the dashboard clock—“thirteen more minutes.”
“That is specific,” I say.
“Well, sunrises are kind of like that, you know,” Nash says.
That escalated quickly. With the word sunrise, my heart does this weird thing in my chest, like it’s constricting with all its might so it doesn’t explode. I try to decode Nash, his expression, his body language. He can hear my heart, I’m sure of it.
“I haven’t been here in a while, actually,” Nash says, looking toward the ocean. “We used to come here when I was little. Every summer solstice, I’d fall asleep in my bed and wake up at the beach. Nick would try to drag me out of bed. That’s the part I remember the most. But it was also peanut butter banana sandwiches my mom packed in a Goofy cooler and watching the sunrise, the four of us. Together.”
Every time Nash opens up to me, I’m a confusing mix of elation and guilt.
“I love that,” I say.
“Yeah,” Nash says. “It’s one of the few memories of us that I know is mine, so I try to get down here whenever I can. To remember. Molly and I sometimes still make the solstice trip. My mom tried, for a while, but I think it hurts her being here just as much as it helps me. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
“It does,” I say.
“Thanks for being here,” Nash says.
“I mean, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” I say.
Literally, I don’t know why I speak most of the time.
Nash just laughs. “Shut up.”
Before long, the sky is illuminated in iridescent shades of orange and it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Like, there are no words. I don’t even think to take a photo with my phone because Instagram is not going to do this sky justice.
How do we spend every day sleeping through this sky?
Nash shifts so he’s facing me better, one shoulder pressing against the back of the seat. His smile is so big and I am a puddle. He looks at me like … like I don’t even know, and I lose my words. Something has shifted, though, I can tell. He looks at me from behind his glasses, like he’s trying to form the right words to say next. I adjust in my seat, mimicking his sideways position, ignoring the lace sleeve scratching against my skin, but his eyes don’t move from mine.
He’s going to kiss me.
Nash is going to kiss me.
I want him to kiss me.
“I’m sorry about Molly,” he says.
I blink, confused. “I mean, I think it worked out okay.”
“Yeah, but what she did wasn’t cool. I forget sometimes how controlling she can be.” Nash pauses. “I just—”
Something has shifted, again. And not in the Hey, let’s kiss each other’s faces under a romantic sunrise kind of direction. Nash chews on his lower lip and runs a hand through his hair, smile gone.
What did I say? He’s the one who brought up Molly, not me.
“It’s Kels.”
My heart plummets.
“I’m sorry,” Nash says. “It’s just—I feel. I don’t know how to say this in a way that makes sense.”
I lean back in the seat and stare straight ahead, straight through the windshield. I can’t look at him. I can’t. I need to know what he’s going to say next. What he’s trying to say.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, lead you on or anything,” Nash says.
“We’re watching the sunrise.”
“Right,” Nash says. “I can’t believe—look, I like you. I really do. That’s why I’m so pissed at Moll right now. Because it’s not you, it’s just … there’s someone else.”
“Kels,” I say.
Me, I don’t say.
“I just—I can’t explain it, okay?” Nash says. “I am so