Page 96 of In Your Wake

I already know where this is going, and I hate how my stomach tightens. I look back out at the ocean immediately. “We’re fine.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I take a swig of my beer. “We barely talk. Just like the good old days,” I reply deadpan.

“Right… Look, I’ve known you two forever. You think I don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“Whatever is going on between you two.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“There’s always been something going on.”

I shake my head and frown. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not. You used to worship that girl.”

“That’s a tad dramatic.”

“And yet, completely accurate.”

I take a long draw from my bottle, mostly to avoid answering. The wind pushes through Spencer’s hair, tangling those stupid golden locks girls have been obsessed with for years. Even now, standing here trying to have a serious conversation, he somehow still looks like he belongs in a Ralph Lauren ad.

“I don’t get it,” Spencer hesitates. “I’ve never understood why you two keep fighting this.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “And you wouldn’t understand, either. Things are… complicated.”

“No shit.”

I rub the back of my neck, staring down at the waves. “You know what the problem is?”

Spencer waits quietly.

“I feel like the damage is done. Like there’s no fixing us.” The words surprise me a little once they’re out. My jaw tightens. “I left, Spence. And yeah, what she did was bad, too, but I left her to deal with everything, only after making sure she knew how much I hated her.” I shake my head, remembering my sharp words. How the betrayal had led me to push her away. “One minute she was my best friend, and then suddenly it was like she meant nothing.”

“You were a kid.”

“That doesn’t mean it was right. It doesn’t make any of it okay.” Sadly, the confession doesn’t relieve the heaviness in my chest. I stare out at the horizon, my voice quieter. “And now everything’s weird. Sometimes it’s like she’s with me again, like before. Like nothing’s changed.” I clutch my bottle, thinking about the tent, the woods. “Then other times, she looks at me like she hates my guts. Like she’ll never forgive me.”

He drops his head to the side. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

I finally glance at him. Spencer’s expression is calm, as if he solved this issue hours ago and is waiting for me to catch up.

“She cares about you,” he says. “Honestly, it’s kind of painfully obvious.”

I bark out a laugh. “Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re seeing things.”

Leaning his hip on the railing, Spencer faces me. “That girl looks at you like she’s constantly trying not to. She always has. And don’t even tell me nothing happened camping, because it was written all over your face.”