Fly Bye

I’m experiencing a lot of gratitude toward whoever invented sunglasses right about now. Eyes say a lot. A lot I don’t want to say at the moment.

Sloane’s phone goes off beside me, so I tear my hidden gaze away from the water. Or more specifically, one of the many people in the water. Sloane sits up, stretches, and smirks when I nod toward the tube of sunscreen. She flips over to expose her back to the rays and continues her twenty minutes per side regimen. Hopefully, she has aloe on hand.

I go back to reading. Or rather, to using the cover of my sunglasses and the pretense of a propped-up paperback to pretend I’m reading. In reality, I’m watching Gray surf. He’s good. Then again, I’ve yet to find anything Gray is bad at.

Except communication maybe. But I’m not sure he’s bad at it. Just not employing it.

I haven’t seen or heard from him in nearly four days. Eighty-two hours, to get super specific. Not since he dropped me off after our trip to the base. I was high—on adrenaline, on excitement, on him. And then four days of silence. I don’t know what that means. Did he get bored? He initiated everything last time. The sex, the car shopping, the flight. He stayed. He offered to go with me. He invited me to the base.

If he were any other guy, I’d ask my best friend, who’s conveniently lying right beside me. Sloane has far more experience with guys. My only relationship before Logan was with an English major in a band, and that only lasted for a few weeks. Of the two of us, Sloane has always been the bold, adventurous one, while I play it safe. She’d be proud of this development. She suggested it—although I’m confident she didn’t think there was any chance I’d follow through. I didn’t think I’d follow through.

But Gray is not any guy. So, I stay silent.

A part of me likes having a dirty secret for once in my life. I’m also worried Sloane will confirm what I suspect—if a guy is into you, he doesn’t ignore you for days. He has my number; we’ve been in plenty of group chats together over the years. And we’ve stopped pretending we don’t share a past, so he has no good reason not to use it.

Today is the first day both Sloane and I have had off since starting our new jobs. Since I’m sleeping at my parents’ and working twelve-hour shifts, I’ve barely seen her. We got brunch this morning. It was light and fun and felt like old times. And then Noah called when I was halfway through my waffles, telling me he was going surfing with the guys and asking if I wanted to meet them at the beach. I couldn’t ask if Gray was going to be here. Sloane was immediately on board. So, here I am—following the figure in the water I’m ninety-eight percent certain is him.

With a sigh, I give up on fake reading and drop my head onto the towel. Despite my anxiety about encountering Gray, it does feel nice to be back at the beach. I had summer classes for the past seven years. This is the first time I’ve been back home during warm weather months in a while.

Lying in the sand with Sloane makes me feel like I’m back in high school.

So does surreptitiously watching Gray.

The sun warms my skin, and the sound of surf pounding the sand serves as the distant soundtrack. Sloane and I didn’t drag our stuff far—we’re closer to the parking lot than the water. Maybe the guys won’t see us.

That hope is dashed when Sloane sits up beside me and shouts Noah’s name. I raise my head when she follows it with a laugh.

“Of course. Isn’t that Miranda Hendrix? And Tanya Ford?”

I rise up on my elbows and squint toward where she’s looking. Noah, Emmett, Harrison, and Gray are all standing about twenty feet away, each holding a surfboard. Two girls have stopped next to them, talking animatedly. Sure enough, I recognize them both from our year.

“Yep. Looks like them.”

“Great,” Sloane drawls. “They’re all coming over here. Get ready for lots of giggling.”

I sit up, then stand, not wanting to be at a height disadvantage. I tower over Miranda, who’s a petite blonde. The top of her head barely reaches my chin when she gives me a hug. We were friendly in high school. Most of our interaction stemmed from a shared biology class. I wouldn’t have any issue with her—if not for the fact that I’m pretty sure she slept with Gray the last time I saw the two of them together, and based on the way she’s eyeing him, she’d like a repeat.

“It’s so good to see you, Evie! I didn’t realize you were in town.”

“Yep.” I smile. “Just moved back.”

“We should go out sometime! Get a drink at least.”

“Um, yeah, sure. My schedule is a little crazy, but that sounds nice.”

“What have you been up to?”

“I just graduated medical school. I’m working at Charleston General now.”

Miranda’s eyes widen. “Wow. Guess biology actually paid off for you.”

This time, my smile is genuine. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Tanya approaches me and gives me a hug as well. “Evie!”

“Hi, Tanya. How are you?”

She shrugs a slim shoulder. “Can’t complain.”

There’s an awkward moment as they both greet Sloane, who was selectively friendly in high school, whereas I felt the compulsion to be constantly cheery. After some fake pleasantries, Tanya and Miranda both turn back to the real reason they came over—the boys. Sloane rolls her eyes at me once they do. I smirk in response, but my amusement fades when I see Miranda’s hand on Gray’s arm.

Sloane sits back down on her towel. I follow her lead and decide to spread more sunscreen on my arms, simply for something to do.

“I’m running to the bathroom,” Sloane tells me. “I’ll be right back.”

I nod, still focusing on rubbing in the sunscreen and not on eavesdropping on the conversation taking place a few feet away.

Noah leaves the huddle and sits down beside me a couple of minutes later. “Hey, sis.”

“Hey.”

He tweaks my ponytail, the same way he always did when we were kids. “Glad you came.”

“I’m glad you invited me.” I am.

Noah has always been great when it comes to including me. He never ignored me at parties or made me feel unwelcome around his friends. He’s a good brother, and I’m probably a shitty sister for getting involved with his best friend.

“Me too. It barely feels like you moved back. I miss you.”

“I know. My schedule will get better soon.”

“Will it?”

I sigh. “No clue.”

“Hey, Evie.” Harrison drops down on my other side.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. You?”

“Same. It’s nice to be doing nothing. Long week.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Harrison is an associate at a big law firm downtown. His hours are almost as hectic as mine.

“You bowing out, man?” Noah nods toward the group standing near us with a laugh.

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Emmett will too, I bet. He said he just wants to surf all day. Gray’s probably their best bet.”

My arm is too oily to absorb any more sunscreen, but I keep rubbing away at the skin anyway.

“No way,” Noah says a few seconds later.

“What?” Gray’s voice. Close.

I keep my eyes cast down.

“Figured you’d be all over that.”

There’s a pause where Gray’s reaction to Noah’s comment happens silently.

Then, Harrison asks, “How was Colorado?”

I look up. Right at Gray, who is sitting in the sand a few feet away and already looking at me. His gaze slides over to Harrison as soon as we make eye contact.

“Fine. It was a short trip.”

He was in Colorado?

“Is there footage of this ceremony?” Noah asks.

“Nah.”

“I thought it was a big deal?” Harrison questions.

Gray shrugs. “Compared to what?”

“I don’t know, man. Compared to something that would actually require you to talk about work.”

Gray shakes his head before looking away, toward the water. I keep my gaze on him, drifting away from his face and down the impressive musculature of his body. Over the sculpted abdominal muscles and the deep V that drags my attention further south. There are plenty of attractive, half-naked guys on this beach. A couple came over to me and Sloane an hour ago. But I’m looking at Gray because I know he was obsessed with Spider-Man in third grade. I know he makes really good pancakes because he made some before we went car shopping. I know the state of his relationship with his father bothers him. I know how he looks when he comes. Those are the reasons I can’t look away, not his six-pack.

I wish we were alone. Not only so I could ogle him, but also so I could ask him what his silence means. But before I look away, I notice the small gash on his shin.

“You’re bleeding.”

Gray looks at me, then down at the cut just below his knee. “Yeah. I hit a rock out there.”

Without really thinking about it, I stand and approach him. Kneel down directly beside him and touch the skin just below the scrape. It’s not that deep, but it’ll scab and scar.

“Will I live?”

I glance at his face, just inches away. I can see every freckle on his forehead. The edge in his voice when he was talking to Noah and Harrison has smoothed. Flattened. Some switch has flipped. I can’t tell if it was an act before or if it’s an act now or if neither is genuine.

It bothers me.

It shouldn’t.

“You should put something on it,” I tell him.

“I’d feel better if a doctor did it.” He manages to make the sentence sound normal while adding hidden meaning.

I narrow my eyes in response.

“There’s a huge swell coming in.” Emmett appears, gulps some water, then looks at me and Gray. I’m still crouched down beside his leg. “Sup, Evie?”

“Hey, Emmett.”

“What happened?” He nods toward Gray’s leg.

“Gray versus a rock. The rock escaped unharmed,” Noah summarizes.

Gray flips him off.

Emmett laughs. “I’m headed back out.”

“Me too.” Harrison stands.

Noah shoves himself up last. “You coming, Phillips?”

“Maybe in a bit.”

“Okay.”

All three guys disappear, leaving me and Gray. Alone.

I sit back on my heels. “I can put some Neosporin on it.”

He nods. I rifle through my bag and pull out the small plastic box.

“You travel with your own medical kit?” He sounds amused.

“Yep.” I squeeze some ointment out of the tube, dab the cut, and then wipe my fingers on my towel. A laughable use of my medical skills, but better than nothing. I figure a Band-Aid will just litter the ocean if he decides to surf again, so I leave the wound uncovered.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Yep,” I repeat.

I’m silent. He’s silent. The waves are crashing and seagulls are cawing and people are laughing, but between us? There’s so much silence.

“I got promoted. From second lieutenant to captain.”

I look over; he’s still staring straight ahead. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“Was it a big deal?”

I don’t know why I ask him the same question he basically just refused to answer. But then he does, and I realize why I asked it—because I wanted to know if he would answer me.

“I guess so. There was cake.”

“Most big deals have cake.”

He smiles, a small tug in one corner of his mouth that makes my stomach feel like it’s getting turned inside out. “True.”

“Your parents didn’t go…” It’s not a question. I’m still living next door. I know they didn’t.

“I didn’t tell them about it.”

I lean back on my hands and search for a way to change the subject. “What’s your favorite flavor of cake?” It’s dawning on me, kind of slowly and also all at once, how I know all the big things about this guy that I’ve known for most of my life but not many of the little ones. That I know what his parents are like and what he does for a living and that he’s really good at basketball, but I don’t know his favorite color or his favorite movie or his favorite kind of cake.

Just how he looks naked.

“Of cake?”

I nod.

“Chocolate.”

I wait, but he doesn’t reciprocate the question. Instead, he’s looking at me with his head tilted, like I’m a puzzle with pieces he’s missing.

“Aren’t you going to ask me mine? It’s proper cake flavor etiquette.”

Gray chuckles before he answers. “I don’t need to. I already know your favorite flavor is carrot.”

I stare at him.

“No red today?”

“What?” I’m still recovering from the revelation Gray Phillips knows my favorite flavor of cake when I spent a healthy portion of adolescence unsure if he knew I was even in the same room.

He leans over and trails one finger along the black string of my bikini, just above my left breast.

“Oh. No. I finally did some unpacking. That one didn’t really…fit.”

“I thought it fit.”

Double meanings hang heavy as his fingers trail over my shoulder and down my arm. It’s an innocent, small brush that feels anything but. His touch seeps away all my confidence about me being able to walk away from whatever this is between us if he isn’t.

I know it will end when he leaves.

I just won’t be the reason it stops before then.

I embrace the weakness rather than shy away from it as I lean into his touch.

“You free tonight, Dr. Collins?”

“To do what, Captain Phillips?”

He grins. “Me.”

“I’m not that easy, Gray.” I feel obligated to say it even though when it comes to him, I absolutely have been.

I expect a teasing comment, but Gray looks serious when he replies, “I don’t think you’re easy, Evie.”

“I promised Sloane I’d go out with her tonight.”

“Downtown?”

“Yeah.”

I watch him closely. Watch his jaw tighten and relax. He doesn’t like that I’m going out. I like that he doesn’t like it.

“Fun.”

I smirk. “Yeah. Was Colorado fun?”

He narrows his eyes, like he’s not sure if he is ready to move on from the topic of tonight’s plans. But there’s nothing else to say, and we both know it. We’re not dating. He doesn’t have the right to have an opinion on any part of my life.

“Sheesh.” Sloane suddenly appears beside me. “I feel like I accidentally ended up at a high school reunion. Just ran into Landon Jones and Macy Thompson.” She leans past me. “Hey, Gray.”

“Hi, Sloane.”

Her gaze lingers on his abs, which makes me want to do something really irrational, like tell him to put on a shirt.

Sloane lies back down on the blanket next to me. “What happened to the rest of the guys?”

“They’re surfing.”

“’Kay. Wake me up when they’re back. Or when it’s five. I made reservations at Sakura for seven.”

“Okay.” I’m barely listening, far more focused on watching Gray as he untangles the ankle strap connected to his surfboard.

A few seconds later, he stands. My stomach fills with disappointment.

He looks at me, but he doesn’t say a word before turning and walking toward the water. I bury my face in the towel and sigh.

I can’t believe I’m wearing heels again. My feet aren’t happy about the decision either. Sloane insisted they’re super comfortable and they go perfectly with the blue dress I’m wearing. I believe her about the latter, but I’m calling bullshit on the former.

Sloane strides confidently inside our destination, a popular bar on King Street. I stumble behind her, feeling the raw fish, seaweed, and sake I had at dinner slosh around in my stomach. I would love to be curled up on the couch in sweatpants right now. But if I were, I know I’d be analyzing every word Gray said earlier for the thousandth time. This is healthier even if the air is so thick with cologne and vape smoke that I can barely breathe.

We squeeze in at the packed bar. Lines of liquor bottles sit on shelves with mirrored backgrounds, making them appear endless. Sloane debates between ordering a Moscow mule or a Paloma as I watch the bartenders rush about. I worked at a bar down the road from my apartment in Boston my first summer there until my school schedule became too hectic to manage both without losing my mind. It was fun, though. Shifts would pass quickly, and people would tip well.

A bartender appears. “What can I get you ladies?”

Sloane nods to me. “You go ahead.”

“Gin and tonic, please,” I order.

The guy nods, then turns to Sloane. She starts asking questions about one of the specialty cocktails. I hide a smile, suspecting her interest in the Double Standard has more to do with the fact that the bartender is young and attractive than the drink itself.

I fish my phone out of my clutch while they flirt and scroll through my new notifications. Photos from my mom, junk emails, and new messages from Noah, Logan, and two from…Gray Phillips. Instantly, butterflies appear. My palms start to sweat.

Sloane is still busy talking to the bartender. I unlock the screen and tap on his name.

Gray: Colorado wasn’t fun.

Gray: It was lame.

He sent it seven minutes ago. Should I play it cool? Keep him guessing?

Evie: Charleston is boring, and Colorado was lame? Is there anywhere you like being?

Three dots appear immediately. I reread what I sent.

Evie: Don’t make it dirty.

Evie: I’m not sexting you.

Gray: I was going to answer Vancouver.

Gray: Went there once.

Gray: Cool city.

Evie: I can’t tell if you’re kidding.

Gray: And I have a new appreciation for Malone’s restroom.

Evie: Okay, now, I can tell.

“He’s hot, right?”

I startle at the sound of Sloane’s voice. “Who?”

“The bartender, Evie.”

“Oh. Yep.”

Gray hasn’t responded, so I click on Noah’s name. He sent me one of the photos our mom sent earlier of her and my dad in front of the Colosseum, looking like total tourists. He added the two of us over their shoulders, appearing wildly out of place.

Noah: Family Christmas card?

I laugh and show it to Sloane. She requests she be added to the photo, which I pass along to Noah.

Gray still hasn’t replied. I reread what I sent him last, debating if I should text him again. I check the message from Logan instead.

Logan: You’re welcome!

Logan: Glad it works.

His graduation gift arrived this morning. It’s a book seal that imprints a circular design, reading From the Library of Dr. Evie Collins. I have a huge book collection I accumulated in Boston and lugged south, which Logan knows. It’s sweet and thoughtful and exactly like him. I sent him a photo of the seal pressed onto the title page of a novel earlier, thanking him and telling him how much I love it.

The bartender reappears with our drinks. Sloane hands me mine before striking up another conversation with him.

My phone lights up with a text from Gray, and I almost upend my cocktail in my haste to grab it. Sloane gives me a weird look before she continues talking. Because I’m acting strange, I hope, not because she saw the name on the screen.

Gray: Are you having fun?

I bite my bottom lip, trying to decide how to respond.

Evie: Yes.

Evie: Would I have seen you this week if you hadn’t been in Colorado?

I regret the message as soon as I send it. Why has no one come up with an Unsend option for texts yet? The regret fades when I read his answer.

Gray: Yes.

Gray: Will I see you tonight?

Evie: Yes.

Gray: Charleston is growing on me.

Evie: What about Colorado?

Gray: Nope. Still lame.

“Come on. Let’s grab a table,” Sloane says.

I look up to see the bartender has disappeared.

“Sure you don’t want to stay by the bar?” I wink.

She waves a napkin in my face. “He said to text him. He’s off at midnight. Which means”—she hooks an elbow through mine and pulls me through the throng toward a high-top table in the back—“that we need to find you a guy for the night.”

I slide onto a stool, and my toes breathe a sigh of relief. “Sloane, I appreciate it. Really, I do. It’s just…” A heavy ball of guilt forms in my stomach, but I keep talking anyway. “I thought I was over Logan and ready to move on, but I’m not. I need more time.”

Sloane blinks at me in surprise. Every time Logan has come up, I’ve insisted I’m fine. This is a rapid one-eighty.

“You said you’re over him.”

I nod. “I thought I was. But he’s been texting me lately, and he sent me that gift, and I—I don’t know. It made sense to end things with him, but it might have been a mistake.”

“The book thing was thoughtful,” Sloane agrees. “I think you should play the field some, though. Logan is the only guy you’ve really ever dated. Explore what’s out there, you know?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I’m just not ready to jump into something new.”

“Okay.” Sloane takes a sip of her drink and leans back on her stool. “We’ll have a girls’ night. And if Logan is really who you want, I’ll be supportive. He still seems super into you. No way in hell I would send my ex a gift.”

I smile, even as the guilt grows. I’ve kept things from Sloane over the course of our long friendship, but this is the first time I can recall ever lying to her outright, especially about something of importance.

Once Gray leaves, it won’t matter, I tell myself. I’ll move on—for real—and let Sloane push me out of my comfort zone.

“Thanks, S.”

She smiles. “Of course. I just want you to be happy, Evie.”

“I know. You too.”

“Oh, I am.” She winks. “Ready to dance?”