In Waves | ✔️

15 | sand angels

"Nate Miller." He shakes his head, eyes glinting with humor. "You say my name like I'm a fictional character or something."

Him pointing this out makes my face hot. "I guess with those stories I've heard, and never talking to you before this week, you do sort of feel fictional."

"I don't want to be," he says softly, and he's looking at me so intently I think my pulse has surged. "How can I make myself real for you?"

I'm not sure if it's a rhetorical question, because his hazy eyes drifted to my lips while he was talking, briefly, but long enough to send my brain into malfunction. If he kissed me right now, I wouldn't pull away. I'd kiss him back.

I'd thread my fingers in his curls and I'd let his hands run wild and I'd wake up tomorrow knowing exactly how he tasted, and the certainty of that thought terrifies me. So I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head in order for me to run from this. Literally.

"Race me down the sand dune!" I dart off the deck, pulling my shoes off as I go.

"Wha—?" I hear him calling behind me. "You had a head start!"

The dune is steep, and my legs are on the verge of collapse because they're going too fast for my body to keep up, and I immediately realize how terrible unsober running is. I lack enough grace as it is. But I can't stop going, and the fact that I can't stop only makes the thrill heighten.

I look over my shoulder at Nate catching up. He's laughing. I think I'm laughing too. It all sounds like music and waves. Close to the bottom, my legs give out and I slide on my butt for the last few feet, the sand gathering and bringing me to a stop. Nate skids down in front of me.

"How did that help making me real?" he pants.

"Who says this had anything to do with that?" I dust off my sandy hands. "I just felt like winning a race, which I did."

"You cheated!"

"Hm. Doesn't sound like me."

He clicks his tongue. "Okay, I see how it is."

From where I'm sitting and the position he's standing in, there's a perfect speckling of stars framing his head. He leaves the frame and sits next to me, the landscape of the wide beach coming into full view. I forget to breathe for a second.

"Whoa. It looks even better up close," I say, soaking it in.

"What does?"

"This. The beach."

"Wait, what?" I feel his eyes on me. "We haven't even had our first lesson and you're already falling for the beach? Guess I won't have to try so hard to sell you on it now."

"Easy, Miller." I scoff. "I only like this one because there's nobody here, and it's not hot and loud. And the light makes everything better. Don't you think it looks like snow?"

He joins me in looking over the picturesque backdrop. The sand is smooth and untouched, the ocean is the only source of movement, and the moonlight is washing a pale blue tinge over everything. I've never felt so comfortable being on a beach than I am right now.

"Yeah, sort of," Nate muses. "But I'm probably not the best judge because I've never seen snow up close."

"Really?" I stare at him like he's from another dimension. "So you've never gone sledding or built a snowman or made snow angels? Or had a snowball fight?"

"Nope."

He's totally unfazed, but I suddenly feel sorry for him. "Well, you can do at least one of those now."

Nate gives me a puzzled look.

"Pretend it's cold," I say, scooting away from him to make space. "And pretend the dune is a snowy hill we just sled down. Like Calvin and Hobbes."

He chuckles, watching me lie flat. "Okay."

"Now do what I do and pretend I don't look weird doing it."

I spread my arms and legs out and start making a snow angel, and Nate lies back and does the same. The texture is all wrong, but when I close my eyes, I try my hardest to imagine the snow freezing my back and my sweeping movements carving through iciness. I stand up carefully, jumping out of the angel not to mess it up.

Nate is sprawled out with a big grin on his face. "I feel stupid."

I smile and offer my hand, heaving him up so we can look at our work.

"Might've been better in harder sand," I mutter.

Nate laughs softly. "We can just pretend those are non-deformed, non-sand angels."

"They're not totally deformed."

"Exactly. They're perfect snow angels on a snowy hill we sled down, aren't they?"

I give a satisfied nod, and without another word, we leave the dune and start walking along the beach together.

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a/n: thanks for reading, please remember to vote! ♡