“Here we are,” Tom says, pulling into the lot. There’s black sand built up at the edges of the lot, some of it spreading out into the parking spots themselves.
“I can’t wait to see the puffins!” Lily says, hopping out of the car along with Elise. Everyone piles out of the other car parked next to us.
“There’s puffins here?” I ask. I’ve seen the photos of them online. They’re cute enough in theory, but I have no desire to see them up close. At the end of the day, they are still birds flying around with a pointed weapon on their face.
“No,” Tom laughs. “They don’t migrate over here until May.”
I sigh in relief.
We make our way toward the beach, and I glance over my shoulder, looking for Luke. He’s just pulled in when we start to walk away.
“I’m going to wait for Luke,” I tell Tom.
He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but then chooses not to. I half expect him to walk away and join his friends, but he stays with me. He smiles, but it’s forced, not reaching his eyes the same way it did the night before.
Luke makes his way over, giving another awkward wave and not really meeting my eyes.
“Come on,” I say. I’m about to reach out and grab Luke’s hand, but I stop myself and step closer to Tom instead. I catch him eyeing me like he saw what I was about to do.
I brush it off and lead the way, grabbing Tom’s hand.
The sand, it turns out, isn’t sand. It’s more like tiny smooth black pebbles. Millions of them are scattered across the beach. The cliffside hugging the beach isn’t regular stone but volcanic prisms, forming what looks like steps that get higher and higher.
Lily and Elise run up to one of the rock prisms and sit on it, posing for a photo. The group quickly scatters, spreading out over the beach.
“Oh, wow,” I say, my eyes following the volcanic rockprisms. They bow inward as they get taller and arch off to the side. It looks like a piece of architecture—something that was designed and man-made—but somehow nature put it all together.
The waves crash in front of us, creating a dramatic roar of water.
“Come on,” Tom says, pulling me past the prisms and toward the water. The mass of stone ends and opens up to another part of the beach that reveals tall spires of rock. They’re the same ones we’d seen from the lighthouse. Up close, they look gothic and dramatic as the water crashes into them.
Tom keeps pulling me forward and around the bend of the stone wall, but my eyes are focused on the thin, tall rocks jutting out from the ocean in front of me.
“How is it still standing?” I wonder.
“Beautiful, right?” Tom says, guiding us forward to get a closer look.
I glance back at him and instantly panic.
“Tom,” I say, unable to hide the nervous tone in my voice. “Can we go back?” I pull on his arm slightly, but he doesn’t budge.
He just looks confused. “Why?”
My eyes float upward where dozens of birds fly over our heads. Their nests are fitted into the crevasses of the rock above us. I’ve seen plenty of birds since we’ve arrived in Iceland but never this many.
“You said there wouldn’t be any puffins.” I’m trying to keep my cool, but there are dozens of birds above me. And they’re close. Close enough that they can and will dive-bomb me giventhe opportunity.
Tom glances up, unbothered. “I think they’re seagulls.”
“Whatever, can we just go?” I tug on his hand again.
Instead of following me, Tom lets go. He looks from me and back to the birds. He’s confused, but then it clicks. He knows why I’m scared, and he smiles.
“You’re scared of birds?” he says, a light mocking tone in this voice.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s called ornithophobia. And I know it’s irrational. Can we go?” I talk quickly, trying to laugh it off. Now that I’m not holding onto Tom, I feel more panicked. I reach out my hand, an offer for him to take, but he ignores it.
“That’s ridiculous, Harper. They’re just birds.” He turns away to look at the view again, ignoring the things flying above our heads.
