She slows down, digging her toes in the sand. Her hand falls away from mine and suddenly I hate that she seems so far away. I want to be touching her, getting to know her. She folds her arms over her chest, not caring when the wind whips her hair into her eyes.

“Do you know who did it?” she asks softly.

“What do you mean?” I say.

Her head tilts up at me, her eyes filled with sadness. “You’re all a team. Surely the other guys talk with each other. Do you know and you’re just supposed to keep it a secret?”

Guilt claws at my insides. This girl is smart. Part of me wonders if she’s only here tonight as a way to get information out of me. That thought alone rips into my ego and makes my heart ache. I’m really starting to like her. She’s gorgeous, she’s funny, and sweet. She’s the kind of girl who cares so damn much about some dumb greenhouse just because she works there.

That’s the kind of girl who makes a great girlfriend. One who cares about things besides herself. She’s the kind of girl I need in my life. She could be the light when I’m surrounded by all the darkness that makes me want to drink.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t know who did it,” I say, reaching for her hand again. “I’m sorry.”