I’m sitting on a beach in Cabo, Mexico, next to my college roommate, Luciana. We’re on winter break and ringing in the New Year in this tropical paradise that’s as far away from Shelby as one can imagine. But I can’t forget—won’t forget—what’s happened.
Or . . . my stranger.
I allow my gaze to skim across our surroundings. Loads of small lanterns containing illuminated tealight candles dot the beach, casting shadows of peach over the Mexican blankets spread out in a large circle on the sand. Outdoor speakers have been set up, the resort’s version of surround sound, so the twenty-six students can get their boogie on.
“There’s only me,” I respond, echoing my mantra of the past four months. I touch my fingertips to my lips. Of all the memories, the good and the bad stored away in my head, my kissing the handsome, fierce man I’d invited in out of the rain is the one I most often fixate on. A psychologist would have a field day figuring out why. Is my fascination with him some kind of hero worship? He came in and out of my life so fast, saving me from Shelby and God knows what else, yet stayed long enough to leave a lasting impression.
I might as well be honest with myself: it’s a full-out crush. I’m crushing on a stranger whose name I don’t even know and who I’ll never see again.
As for Kylie, I try my best not to worry about her. She hasn’t called me, not once. And her cell phone’s been disconnected, a fact that weighs heavily on my mind. When I made my hasty promise to her to move on, I never imagined there’d be such silence between us. I refuse to believe something’s happened to her. I’d know it, wouldn’t I—through that innate, in-tune feeling sisters share like a sixth sense?
But I’m a biology major. I’m all about the facts. Which is why I quietly returned to Shelby over Thanksgiving. Without calling too much attention to myself and as cautious as feasibly possible, I approached the one person who might have news about my sister, the resident gossip, Sylvia. I tracked her down at the Shelby Quick-Mart, chatted briefly with her, and left without any news about Kylie. “She up and left town,” Sylvia declared. “Just like you.” Yet the hubbub over what happened to our trailer had me anxious to leave Shelby all over again. “Went up in flames quicker than a dumpster of recycled Christmas trees. All that remains is a blackened cinder block.” The news about our trailer was reason enough to cut my stay in Shelby short.
“I can take care of myself,” Kylie’d reassured me. Words I hold close to my heart.
“Madelyn?” my friend prompts.
“Yes?”
“Everyone has a him.”
“Do you?”
Luciana looks away. I’m not sure if that is a yes or no.
Guilt washes over me. Within the four months of our being roommates, I’ve never confided in her. I’m not one to unburden my troubles onto someone else. Even if I was, how could I possibly explain what’s happened when I’m still trying to make sense of it all myself? Besides, I get the distinct impression Luciana has deep issues of her own to deal with. Maybe that’s why we’ve become such close friends so fast? Bonded together by pain and loss.
I reach over and retrieve the notepad from where I dropped it in the sand and hand it to her. What’s scribbled inside is our bucket list, the result of a drunken night’s discussion about our future. A compilation of gotta-see destinations so we’ll always ring in the New Year together. Our sisterly pact, sealed with a signed, tequila-induced oath. Cabo is our first destination. Next year, it’s Rome. Then Sydney. And so on.
Moving forward. It’s all anyone can do.
I glance around, thinking how Cabo was the right choice. Just the laid-back atmosphere my friend and I need.
“Cape Town? Seriously.” Luciana chuckles. “And where on earth is Kobe?”
“Japan. It’s an old, quaint town. Rooted in Japanese history.”
“And you know this how?”
“I overheard two guys talking about eating a Kobe beef hamburger instead of sushi.”
Luciana laughs. Heads turn in her direction. Male heads, that is. She’s got this deep, throaty laugh that draws men in like a siren’s call. And with her dark hair, curvy shape, and sexually charged vibe, once she’s caught their attention, they never look away.
My friend is the female version of sex on legs. Everything about her is sexy: her style, her mannerisms, her confidence. A male-magnet who is a shameless flirt, though no guy she dates lasts very long. A week, two max. Until restlessness sets in, and she moves on.
“You’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time.”
I snort. “You just like my jokes.”
“You’re my best friend. Always remember that.”
“You make it sound like I’ll never see you again.”
Luciana cocks her head. I can see her face, cast in an orange hue from the bonfire, her expression somber. “Have you ever felt like your past is suffocating you, and if you don’t keep moving, it’s going to drag you under like a vicious undertow?”
I nod. Yes. That’s exactly it.
“Leaving Mexico to live with my aunt in Copenhagen wasn’t by choice. That I transferred to San Diego State, or even being back in Mexico right now, is a miracle,” she continues, unaware of the sucker punch she’s landed to my gut. Because her story is my story with one twist—I had no choice but to leave Shelby.
“I would have done anything to return home to . . .” She stares off into the darkness, and I finish her sentence in my head.
To him.
“He really did a number on you.”
“That’s a massive understatement.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you that time heals everything.” How would I know, the way everything has been upended? “Life’s full of riptides,” I softly say. “They spin you around, drag you down, and wear you out. Fight them, and you go under. Bide your time and remain patient, and you’ll eventually break free.” I pause a moment to give my words a chance to settle in. “That’s where I am right now. I’m swimming sideways until I can make my way back to the shoreline.”
Reuniting with the person who grounds me the most—Kylie.
“You’re always so optimistic. It’s what I love about you most.”
“I’ve gotta be.” Because the thought of never seeing Kylie again . . .
“What if the pull is too strong to resist? What if you’re reckless and thrive on the challenge it presents? What if the dark weight of it becomes so familiar, you barely catch your breath before you want it to drag you under again?” She searches the dark waters, looking sad, looking lost, as she often does.
I stare at her, horrified.
“You’re right,” she says after a spell. “It’s time to stop fighting. Time to swim sideways. In fresh waters, too. What do you say, Katie Ledecky?”
“I say we’re drowning in this riptide analogy.”
Her laughter is brief but I grab hold of it with both hands, troubles be gone. “What’s the fastest way to determine the sex of a chromosome?”
Luciana’s eyes light up. Nothing like science and sex to cheer a friend up.
“Pull down its genes.”
She claps her hands together, grinning madly.