The day of the trip...
RRRINNNGG!!! RRRIIINNNGGG!!!
I answer the phone. - Ford were are you!- I heard Bears voice. I looked at the clock. SHIT! I was late! - teach said if your not here in 15 minutes we're going without you- I ended the phone, quickly threw on some clothes and grabbed my case and legged it out the door.
I arrived at the university just in time. I slung my case into the boot of the coach and got on. I sat next to bear who'd saved me a seat. " why didn't you come get me this morning. Part of your job is to make sure I'm up in the morning." I scolded. " I'm sorry Ford but I thought you'd already be here with how enthusiastic you've been." I brushed it off. May got on the coach last. With her being head of student council she had to head checks. "Hey Ford she shouted waving over at me. Glad to see you finally showing your face. I thought you'd bailed on me." I laughed at her remark. "You and may seem pretty close now." Bear nudged me. "Yeah you could say that. She's a nice girl." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fiat. I tried not to look so I put in my earphones leaning against the widow as we set off. Everyone was excited. So was I, It been so long since I've been to the beach. It took us about 2 hours to arrive. I tried to rest on the coach as I was travel sick. Once we pulled up to our destination. I got off as quick as I could.
The sun hit hard as we stepped out of the coach, the kind of heat that clung to skin and made cotton shirts feel like a bad idea. The beach stretched wide and mostly empty, except for the dozen or so people from our group gathering near a folding table stacked with gloves, trash bags, and bottled water.
Fiat was already ahead of me, his hair catching the sun in a way that made him look... unreal. He turned back and caught me staring. I quickly looked down and busied myself adjusting the strap of my bag, pretending I hadn't just spent the last ten seconds thinking about how his voice sounded in that damn voice note last night.
" You're still two behind." I'd replayed it more than once. More than twice, if I was being honest. Could he actually sleep with that many people? And now, here he was—wearing cutoff denim shorts and a tank top that did nothing to hide the fact that his body was as much of a distraction as his voice. "Ford, you good?" Fiat asked, standing a few feet away with a lazy grin like he knew exactly what he was doing. "Yeah," I said too fast. "Fine. Just, uh, hot. Smooth.
He walked with me toward the others, the smell of salt thick in the air. There were gulls overhead, some local family wrangling kids in the distance, and that low hiss of waves folding onto shore over and over. Everything felt peaceful. Simple. Except for me.
Coach Harrell called everyone into a loose circle and handed out gloves. "Alright, team. Today's about giving back. This beach gets hit hard during tourist season, so we're helping clean it up. Trash bags, pickers, gloves—partner up, and let's make this place look better than we found it." I hesitated, glancing around. Bear was no where to be seen. "Guess I'm stuck with you," Fiat said, nudging me with his elbow. "Guess so," I muttered, pulling my gloves on.
We started toward the south end of the beach, quiet at first, the only sounds between us the crunch of our shoes on sand and the occasional rustle of a plastic wrapper being bagged. I kept my head down, scanning for broken glass and cigarette butts, but mostly trying not to say something dumb.
"So..." Fiat said eventually, "about last night."
My throat tightened. "What about it?" "That voice note. I maybe... overshared." I stopped, pulling a crushed soda can out of a dune and shoving it into the bag. "You think?" Fiat laughed—low, not mocking. "You didn't have to listen to it." "I didn't have to replay it either," I muttered, before I could stop myself. That shut him up. For a second. Then he looked at me, something unreadable in his eyes. "You replayed it?" I straightened up, brushing sand off my knees. "Let's just... pick up trash, okay?"
He didn't press. But I felt the shift in the air between us. Like the tide had pulled just a little harder. We kept working, side by side, but now every time our hands brushed or he leaned close to point something out, I felt it. The tension. The memory of his voice in my ear. The want that hadn't left since the moment I first saw him. By the time we sat down on the sand near the cooler for a break, my shirt was sticking to my back and my brain was fried.Fiat flopped down next to me, legs stretched out, sunglasses sliding down his nose. "You okay, Ford? You've been weird today." "Not weird," I said, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Just... processing."Fiat took a sip from his water bottle and smiled like he already knew what I was processing.
The sun dipped lower as the afternoon stretched on, casting golden light over the water like someone had spilled warm honey across the sea. Most of the group had wandered off toward the shallows, kicking up water and daring each other into the surf. Fiat leaned back on his hands, watching them with that lazy kind of interest he always wore, like nothing surprised him but he was curious anyway.
I meant to look away. Meant to focus on the waves. But instead I found myself staring at the veins in his forearms, the way his tank top clung just a little from sweat, the slight smirk on his lips even when he wasn't doing anything in particular.
"You're staring," he said without turning his head.
"I'm... not," I lied. He let out a laugh, low and smug, and stood up, brushing sand from his thighs. "Come on." "Where?" "Water," he said, already walking backward toward the tide. "You need to cool off." I hesitated. "I don't have a towel." "Guess you'll just have to dry off the natural way—suffering and sun."
He peeled off his tank top, and I hated how easily my brain short-circuited. I scrambled to my feet, trying to play it casual as I followed him down the sand, the wind teasing at my hair and the distant shout of our teammates echoing behind us.
The water was colder than I expected, rushing up my calves with a slap, making me flinch. Fiat, already ankle-deep, looked back and grinned."Not so tough now, huh?" "Screw you." I shouted. He laughed, stepping closer, water splashing between us. "That an offer?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I wasn't quick enough with words, not like him. He took another step closer, and this time I didn't move back.
"Ford," he said, quieter now, like the water had hushed everything else around us. "You ever gonna stop pretending you don't want this?"
I swallowed hard. My pulse thudded in my throat, and the chill of the ocean did nothing to help.
"You think I don't?" I asked, voice rougher than I meant.
He smirked, but it was softer than usual—less tease, more truth. "I know you do. But you act like wanting me's some kind of problem you're still trying to solve." "Maybe it is."
He moved in then, slow, the water curling around our legs. His hand came up to my shoulder, fingers light, like he wasn't sure if I'd bolt.
"You don't have to solve it. You can just... have it."
I looked at him—at the sun lighting up the edges of his jaw, at the tiny freckle just below his eye, at the mouth I hadn't stopped thinking about. "I'm not great at this," I admitted. "Then let me be great for both of us." Then he splashed me—hard. Water smacked me right in the face, and he took off laughing, wading deeper. "You asshole," I shouted, chasing him, water crashing around my knees. He glanced back over his shoulder with a grin that could ruin a man. "Still thinking about that voice note?" "Shut up." But I was. And part of me hoped he'd send another one.
I almost caught him—almost had my hand on Fiat's waist when a voice called out from the shore. "Ford!"
We both froze. Fiat turned first, brows lifted. I followed his gaze and saw her—May—walking toward us in a cropped tee and denim shorts, her phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She waved again, like we hadn't just been seconds away from something real. Fiat stepped back. Just a little. Just enough.
"Hey," I said, trying not to sound breathless.
May smiled, the kind of smile that had probably worked on every guy she'd ever wanted it to. "Didn't think I'd catch you here. You've been ignoring my texts." Fiat looked between us, expression unreadable now. "I've been... busy," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. May stepped closer, her gaze flicking briefly to Fiat and then back to me. "Too busy to say thanks for the number? Rude."
I didn't remember why I gave it to her. Maybe I did it to feel normal, maybe I did it to prove something. All I knew now was that it felt like a mistake. Especially with Fiat standing a few feet away, sea water dripping from his arms, jaw clenched like he was biting back a comment. "We're kind of in the middle of something," Fiat said suddenly, his voice cool but sharp. May blinked at him, eyebrows raised. "Didn't realize this was exclusive." "It's not," I said too quickly, and immediately regretted it. Fiat let out a low laugh—no humor in it. "Right. Of course not." He turned, walking back toward shore, water sloshing around his legs. I stood there, caught in the middle, the heat of the sun suddenly feeling more like shame than warmth. May tilted her head. "Did I interrupt something?"
I looked at her, at the smirk she wore like armor, and realized I didn't want her number. Didn't want her interest. I wanted him, the boy who made me laugh, who called me out on my bullshit, who sent voice notes that kept me up at night. But I was already too late.
I didn't follow him. I wanted to. Every muscle in me itched to run after Fiat, to grab his wrist, to explain something, anything, but I just stood there like an idiot in knee-deep water while May tapped through her phone like none of it mattered.
"He's dramatic," she said, still scrolling. "You could do better."I didn't respond. Didn't even look at her. Because she didn't get it. She didn't hear the way Fiat had said you don't have to solve it. She didn't see the way he looked at me like he knew me—like he wasn't just flirting for the hell of it. It wasn't about games with him. And maybe I was too used to people playing them to recognize the difference before I fucked it up. "I should get back," I muttered, stepping past her.
May shrugged. "Suit yourself."
By the time I reached the towels, Fiat was nowhere to be seen. His water bottle was still there. So were his shoes. But he wasn't. I scanned the beach, trying to play it casual, hoping no one noticed me looking. No one did.
He wasn't with the group in the shallows. Wasn't by the coach. Not near the volleyball net. It was like he'd vanished. And even though I knew I should just let it go, give him space, let the whole thing fade like it was nothing. I sat down and waited. Quiet. Alone. Watching the spot where the sky met the water and wondering how the hell I was supposed to fix something I hadn't even let myself name yet. He didn't come back until the sun was nearly down, shadows stretching long over the sand. He walked straight to the cooler, didn't look at me, didn't say a word. Just grabbed his shirt and his stuff, and headed for his room. The space between us felt bigger than it had that first day we met. And all I could do was sit there, stuck in the silence, wishing I could take back one stupid sentence.
It was dark when I found him, leaning against the railing behind the rec center, a hoodie pulled up over his head, headphones hanging around his neck like he'd yanked them off mid-song. He didn't look at me when I stopped a few feet away.
"You gonna ignore me all night?" I asked. He shrugged. "Was kind of the plan." I let out a slow breath. "She showed up out of nowhere, Fiat. I didn't invite her." "But you didn't tell her to leave, either," he shot back. "Didn't look like you were in a rush to shut it down."
I stepped closer. "What was I supposed to do? Start a scene on the beach in front of everyone?"
"No, Ford. You were supposed to grow a spine," he snapped, eyes finally locking with mine. "You let her stand there like she had some claim on you, and you just stood there, again, like you didn't know what the hell you wanted." I could feel the blood in my ears, the heat crawling up my neck. "You don't get to act like I owe you some kind of explanation." He laughed, bitter and low. "You don't owe me anything, right? I'm just the guy who's been putting up with your mixed signals since day one." "Mixed signals?" I repeated, stepping up to him now, face to face. "You're the one who sent a voice note at two a.m. saying shit you knew would mess with my head. You think that's fair?" "It wasn't about being fair," Fiat said, voice rising now. "It was about being honest. Something you clearly struggle with." I stared at him, jaw clenched. "You think you've got me all figured out?" "No," he said, stepping forward. "I think you haven't figured yourself out. And you keep dragging everyone else down with you while you work through your identity crisis." That one stung. More than I wanted it to.
I laughed, sharp and angry. "You really don't hold back, huh?" "You want me to sugarcoat it?" "No, I want you to stop acting like this whole thing is just my fault," I snapped. "You flirt, you push, then you pull back when things don't go your way. You act like you're above all this, but the second I don't react the way you want, I'm the asshole?"
He blinked, like I'd hit something real, but he masked it fast. "Cool," he said, voice cold now. "Keep telling yourself that." And just like that, he pushed past me, shoulder brushing mine hard enough to feel it. I didn't stop him. Couldn't. I just stood there in the dark, fists clenched, the echo of our voices still ringing in my ears, knowing neither of us had said what we really wanted to, but we'd both said enough to make it worse.
[Fiat]
I don't slam doors. It's not my thing.
But I closed the cabin door hard enough that the wood groaned and someone down the hall muttered something I didn't catch. I didn't care. I kicked off my shoes and yanked off my hoodie, letting it fall somewhere near the bed. My chest was tight. My hands wouldn't stop clenching.
God, I hated how Ford got under my skin.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it had answers. It didn't.
What pissed me off most? I wasn't even surprised. Not really. Ford had been sending out mixed signals since day one—flinching one second, flirting the next, looking at me like he wanted something he couldn't admit to. And I let it slide. Over and over. Because some stupid part of me liked the game. But today? Watching May—May, of all people—walk up and talk to him like he was hers? And seeing him freeze, like he didn't want to be seen standing next to me? That shit stuck in my throat.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, thumb hovering over his contact. My voice note still sat there. Unread? No—he heard it. He quoted it. Replay button had to be worn out by now. I should've never sent it. Not because I didn't mean it—but because he didn't know what to do with it.
Ford was like a car with the handbrake half-on. Always ready to move, always holding himself back. And I was tired of waiting around for him to figure out whether I was a road he wanted to drive or a fucking detour he'd regret. I tossed the phone onto the bed and lay back, arms over my face. I didn't want a love story. Not one with invisible rules and hidden exits. If Ford wanted me, he could show up. Say it. Prove it. Until then, I was done playing translator for his indecision.
[Ford]
I didn't go back inside right away.
I stayed out there, leaning against the railing like it could hold up more than just my weight—like it could carry the guilt pressing against my chest. The wind had turned colder. I hadn't noticed how late it got until the sky dipped into that navy shade just before full night. I went over the fight again in my head. Every word. Every look. Every time I could've said something better and didn't. Fiat was right about a lot of things. That was the worst part. He was always sharp like that. He saw the cracks in people, mine included and poked at them just enough to make you feel it. He knew I was confused, and he hated that about me. Or maybe he didn't hate it, maybe he was just done with it.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, stared at the screen. His contact sat there, still open. Still pinned to the top like he'd taken up space in my life before I even realized it. I hovered over the voice note again. Listened to the first few seconds. That low tone of his. Calm. Careful. Teasing. Sexy, but not like he was trying to be. Like he just was.I locked my phone before I could finish it.
What was I supposed to do? March into his room, demand he forgive me? I didn't even know what I wanted him to forgive me for. For letting May stand there? For not defending him fast enough? For being a walking question mark he was tired of solving? I raked a hand through my hair and finally turned to go inside.
The cabin was dark except for a hallway light left on. The door to Fiat's room was closed. Not locked. Not slammed. Just... closed.
And that felt worse than if he'd actually shut me out. I thought about knocking. I wanted to apologise for my hot temper but I didn't. Instead, I went into my own room, sat on the edge of my bed, and stared at the wall. I thought about all the things I'd almost said to him. About all the things he probably wanted to hear and all the things I didn't know how to give.
And then I opened my phone again. This time, I didn't replay the voice note.I opened a new one.I hit record.And for a second, I just breathed. Then I said, "I don't know what you want from me right now. But I know what you don't want. And that's silence. So here's me, not staying silent. I'm not ready to say what you want to hear. But I'm not walking away either. Not yet."
I sent it.
Then I tossed the phone onto the bed like it might explode and lay back, eyes on the ceiling, heart loud in my chest. Now it was up to him.