Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 17

I looked at Tim and said nothing more. We both sat in silence, listening to the sea and to the wind whispering things we weren’t ready to understand.

Tim stood up, brushing the sand off his shorts. The sunset had faded into something moodier now—dusky purples and moody grays, the sky no longer glistening, but thoughtful.

“I should go,” he said, voice lighter now. “I have to prep for the… Plan.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Good luck.”

He gave me a salute before walking back toward the resort, his feet sinking slightly into the sand with every step. I watched until his figure melted into the distance.

Then came another set of footsteps—quieter this time, slower. More hesitant.

I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Thank you for helping Tim,” James said softly.

His voice was gentle in a way I didn’t always recognize in him. It wasn’t playful or teasing or ironic. It was just real. I turned to look at him, squinting a little to make out his face beneath the dimming sky. He looked different under gray clouds—muted, maybe. Or more honest.

I stood up beside him. We didn’t speak for a few seconds. Just stood there, side by side, facing the waves as if waiting for something to rise out of them.

Then he crouched down and picked up two pieces of white sea glass, edges dulled and smooth from years of tumbling in the sea.

“I want to preserve this moment, B,” he said. “So here.”

He handed me one, and a pen—one of those permanent markers that probably wouldn’t last long in the saltwater but still felt meaningful in the moment.

“Write your name on it. I’ll write mine too.”

I knelt beside him, the sand cold against my knees. I scrawled my name across the frosted glass—Betty—while he did the same on his. Then we stood again, our names like secret carvings in something the sea had already tried to erase.

“Let’s throw them,” he said. “Let them carry our names to the depths of its memory.”

He threw his first, and it made a soft clunk before it disappeared beneath the surface. I held mine tightly for just a second longer—feeling its weight, feeling the weirdness of marking something that would be swallowed by the sea—and then I let it go.

Clunk.

Gone.

He wrapped his right arm around my shoulders then. A simple motion. Familiar. He heaved a sigh that I felt more than heard. It settled in the space between us like the last note of a song.

From a distance, I heard our friends calling.

Their voices rolled across the beach, warm and lively, as if trying to chase the darkness out of the clouds.

Drake and Corey appeared first, both shirtless, wearing bright beach shirts printed with green palm leaves and hibiscus flowers. Their laughter was loud, unbothered by the wind. Then Matt came into view—wearing a loose gray sando and black linen shorts. Even with the wind tugging everything sideways, somehow his hair was still perfectly in place. Of course.

Inez trailed close behind, her two-piece glinting in the fading light. A piece of cloth was wrapped elegantly around her waist, flowing just to her knees like some ethereal goddess who wandered off course. And Tim—quiet as always—followed last, his gaze trailing toward her, unreadable.

James smiled that big, dimpled smile of his—the one that makes it impossible not to forgive him, even when he doesn’t say sorry.

“Dinner,” he said.