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I narrow my eyes, returning my sights to him.
He’s not…wrong. The rain is starting to slow, and time between flashes of light and thunder seem to be increasing by the second.
He tips his chin up at me, jaw clenched, neck tendons straining. There’s a challenge in his eyes, but it doesn’t feel directed at me.
Sighing, I gesture at the sign between us. “You’re not supposed to go up there. It’s dangerous,” I say tiredly.
His brow furrows and he glances down, staring at the chain dividing us—the wooden sign flapping in the breeze. He studies it like he’s never seen such a thing before.
“Oh,” he whispers so faintly that I see it more than hear it—the syllable pursing his rain-damp lips.
He’s a good-looking kid. I can’t not notice that. But not so much because of his soft, nearly perfect symmetrical features that I imagine most models would envy, but rather the way he wears them.
There’s a sort of careless ease to him, to the way he stands and carries himself, and turns his nose up at me like I’m less than. He looks clean, polished, and privileged as fuck, and those kind of people are almost always inhumanly pretty. Man, woman, everyone.
My old man used to joke about how the wealthy spike their morning coffees with the elixir of beauty. Money gets you everywhere, but beauty makes you stand out—it makes you feel like you belong, he’d told me. What’s wealth matter if you’re alone at the end of the day? Even youth has nothing on beauty. Beauty can withstand anything, even aging. Even if it is just at face-value.
Movement has my attention shifting to the kid’s hands. They still hang at his sides, but no longer in fists. He taps his fingers together—thumb to pointer, then thumb to middle finger, then his ring finger, then his pinkie. And then he does it all again. Over and over and over again like some nervous tic.
Something twinges in my chest, spreading a tightness up my throat.
I don’t like it.
I don’t like this.
I came out here to be alone, and now here’s this kid invading my space, having what looks like some kind of silent temper tantrum. I can only hope after today, should he choose to wander out to this hidden cove, it’s when I’m not here.
At least when I’m alone, I can almost pretend I’m back home in the backwoods of Vermont, surrounded by endless evergreens and sprawling mountains. With miles separating me from the next neighbor, and no one but bears to sneak up on me.
And Abby. I’d have Abby.
Silence stretches out between us, intensifying the ache in my chest. Save for the waves rolling into the beach, slamming up against the rocks, and the low crackles of thunder fading into the distance, it’s quiet. So quiet, I can almost imagine there’s no one else here. That there aren’t people screaming and writhing in detox hell just beyond the tree line.
That there isn’t a resort on the other side of the jungles and mountains behind us, full of rich, fortunate pricks having the times of their lives, while the less fortunate over here have to suffer in exile to prove a point.
That my daughter isn’t thousands of miles away, forgetting me with each passing day I’m not there.
“Where are you going?”
“Back inside,” I grumble, putting my back to him once more, trusting he won’t be so stupid as to actually try and climb the cliff. The rain has all but completely stopped, but the water is still pretty choppy, and there’s no telling what the hell is up there anyway.
Maybe it’s not dangerous at all. Maybe it’s just out-of-bounds to island guests. Maybe it leads to where the staff stay. Who knows?
“W-wait!” he stutters out, and I hear the chain rattle, like maybe he grabbed it to climb over. I don’t look back, but I sense him jogging after me, hear his flip-flops flapping through the sand.
Shaking my head, I glare straight ahead and quickly collect my shoes and socks.
I don’t fucking need this shit.
“Hey!” he pants. “Wait!”
I stop and whirl on him.
This time, he’s a lot closer. He rears back, stumbling, eyes wide.
Nose flared, I curl my lip up. “What?” I bite out.
His lips slam together, his throat bobbing with his heavy gulp. A flush creeps up his neck, spreading over his cheeks.
