We stop walking.
“If this has to stay quiet, then I’ll make sure it will. Whatever it takes.”
I don’t answer. If I do, I’ll start justifying things, and I’ve already done enough of that, and I'm planning on doing more.
I squeeze his hand. Hard.
It’s not sweet. It’s just us, fully aware we shouldn’t be doing this… and doing it anyway. With me one-hundred percent to blame.
We walk on in silence for a while, eyes mostly on the ground.
After a few minutes, I glance sideways. “How was the silence last night?”
He grins. Of course, he slept like a baby after our phone filth.
“It came back once, the night before we went surfing. Nothing since. It used to haunt me unless I knocked myself out first.”
He shrugs.
“I think things are actually changing.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder. “I’m really glad to hear that.”
“And it’s not just a feeling. I can see it too. Last night, Calvin and his mates kept pushing drinks at me. I had to defend myself for not drinking.”
He snorts.
“I love the guy, but he’s a wanker after a few drinks. Also, Jay called this morning.”
“Oh?” How did that go?”
“Fucking amazing. He expected me to be wasted already. Told me to stay away from girls at Arc.”
He raises a finger. “Which I absolutely do.”
“Aren’t you a good boy?” I ruffle his curls like he’s my loyal golden retriever.
We laugh. Mine fades away fast.
“I hate how people don’t take you seriously. They should.”
“If only.”
“I’m proud of you, Tom. And I want you to be proud of yourself too. It’s easier to judge than to do what you do every day. People don’t see how much it takes to pick yourself up after a terrible night. They only notice when you fail.”
He smiles, his eyes turning foggy, and that soft, traitorous heart in my chest breaks.
I slide an arm around his shoulders and keep us moving, over the path that looks like the surface of the moon. The sea stays beside us until the trail opens and we reach the spot I’ve been saving.
I slow down and take Tom’s hand. Then I look at him.
Light from the water ripples up onto his skin, like the plasma globe I had on my nightstand as a kid. Electric and blue. I used to press my fingers to the glass and watch the light follow.
It feels like that now. The sun is hitting the water at just the right angle, and the whole cave turns turquoise, glowing up from beneath the surface.
Life taught me not to believe in magic, but standing here with him, I do.
“Welcome to the Mermaid Pool,” I say. “They say that centuries ago, merfolk were created by stepping into this glowing blue water. After that, they belonged to the island forever.”
