Tide Changer

Nine

"What now?" I couldn't resist whispering after a while. We stood in the same spot as Rhys caressed my back, but as soon as the question fell from my lips, the soothing motions of his palm against my skin ceased.

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as if readying himself for his next words.

"I'll walk you home."

For a moment, I thought I'd misheard him. But then Rys let go of me and immediately put distance between us.

The sting from his rejection made me wince. But what did I expect, throwing myself at him? He didn't ask me to kiss him. It was on me.

Rys was careful to keep his distance as we walked along the beach until the wooden steps leading to my backyard came into view. It took all my acting skills and then some to pretend to be unaffected as I smiled at him.

"I had fun tonight. Thank you."

He nodded, inspecting the tiny pieces of broken seashells beneath his feet. "Not at all. See you around."

See you around?

As in, see you if we run into each other in downtown Marfolk or on the beach? Did he really think that after having dinner with his friends and kissing him it'd be that easy for me to pretend he was just my neighbor?

If I were braver, I'd confront him. But words deserted me once more, and what would saying them change, anyway?

"Sure, Rys. Good night," I muttered and jogged toward the stairs. I climbed them hastily, and for some stupid reason, a part of me hoped Rys would go after me like he'd done each time I ran from him.

But this time, it didn't happen.

I cut across the backyard and let myself into the house. A bottle of wine was still in the fridge, but I couldn't risk drunk-spilling any more secrets. Secrets like feeling nothing when kissing Brock and feeling everything when I kissed Rys.

Or secrets like me faking orgasms with Brock because he said not being able to come was my fault, and when I tried to touch myself during sex, he took it as an insult to his manhood.

After a peek through the kitchen doorway, I headed to the en suite. Like sleep, hot showers tended to fix things. I did feel better afterward, right until I dried myself with a towel and realized I left my bag with my phone at Rys's.

Going to his place was the most humiliating thing I could imagine doing, but what choice did I have? With my hair still wet, I threw on an oversized gray T-shirt and shorts and padded to the foyer. As I opened the front door, my heart sank.

My raffia basket bag sat on the worn floor of the porch. Only this time, there was no note from Rys.

I picked it up and returned to my bedroom. It'd been hours since I last checked my phone. I climbed into bed with my cell and went through the notifications.

My mother texted me, asking if everything was okay. There was nothing from Brock and nothing from Payton. For some reason, I didn't care.

I logged into my Instagram and scrolled through the home feed. Pictures of my classmates' vacations took up the screen. I liked Mila's and Hazel's beach photos and ignored some of the others. Focusing on someone else's life to avoid thinking about mine seemed to be working until my eyes lingered on a photo one of Brock's classmates posted. Her name was Julie, and although we crossed paths at parties and chatted a few times, we were acquaintances, not friends.

That was why I couldn't find a logical explanation for Payton's presence in the image. She was grinning at the camera with Julie and two other girls from Brock's class I'd seen around but never talked to. Were they the workmates she mentioned? The timelines aligned, but I had a hard time believing the girls wearing designer clothes and driving luxury cars would wait tables like Payton.