The Dead-Tossed Waves Read Free Page B

my mind that I should admit how much I like him but I shake it away.
    He reaches out and takes the tip of my braid in his hands, running his fingers along the fan of my hair, and I can’t hold back my smile.
    “It feels like things have changed,” he says, and I don’t know if he means in a good way or a bad way.
    “How so?” I ask, my voice bordering on a squeak.
    He focuses on his fingers in my hair, running the ends of it against the palm of his hand. I stare, mesmerized.
    He clears his throat. “You know how you can know someone—or—think you know them—but maybe you onlyknow them in one way?” He sneaks a glance up at me and I notice that his cheeks are red in the moonlight. I nod, my eyes wide, too afraid to hope he’s talking about me and the possibility of us.
    He takes a deep breath, letting go of my braid. As it slides down along my shoulder I realize that my lungs are burning, waiting for him to continue.
    “Maybe you know someone as your little sister’s friend,” he says. “And then maybe something shifts. Maybe one day you hear them say something unexpected. Or hear the way they laugh and then suddenly you see them all over again. Like this time it’s different.”
    He places a hand on my shoulder, his thumb on my collarbone. I have a hard time catching my breath, wanting so desperately to hear him tell me how he feels about me. That he thinks about me as much as I do about him.
    “This time, maybe you see them as …” He pauses. Above us stars whirl and collide and eke out their light only for us. “Beautiful,” he finishes, and my body explodes, my heart filling every part of me.
    Catcher leans in closer. “Wonderful and funny and …” He leans in even closer.
    My body tingles at being so near to him. I realize how right he is. How we still see people as who they were before and maybe not as they are now. I run my tongue over my lips and dive in, my voice shaking only a little. “And maybe you start to see your best friend’s brother differently too.”
    I wonder what I’m supposed to do—if I should lean in to him as well—how this is all supposed to work and if I’m doing something wrong.
    He smiles that secret smile, except this time I think thatmaybe I understand what it is. Possibility sparks and skitters between us. He glances down at my mouth, his breath puffs against my lips.
    Once, when I was a child, the ground trembled beneath my feet. They said that it was the earth shifting, settling. But in doing so it threw up a massive wave. I remember standing in the lighthouse and seeing it coming. I remember the compression of air before it hit, the way everything stilled and pulled back for just a breath, and held.
    That’s how it feels when Catcher moves toward me. The compression of air between us, the still pause, and then his lips brushing against mine.
    I feel their heat first. Feel the way his mouth pauses over mine before pressing in again. I place a hand over his on the bar and he twines his fingers in mine.
    It’s as if everything in my life has led me to this moment. That this is what I’ve been waiting for. All the years growing up with Catcher, the times he chased me around the twisted streets of the town playing tag, the times he’d laugh as Cira and I would compose complex plays and act them out for him, the times he would linger just a little longer when I was around.
    As if this entire summer we’ve been spinning around each other, coming closer and closer to some inevitable spark that’s just ignited. As if this is everything that was meant to be. I press against him and he presses back.
    I’m so wrapped up in my first kiss, in the excitement of being with Catcher, that initially I don’t hear the tumbling moan through the night ripping us apart.

T he moan echoes around us, slicing into the hum of our bodies pressing together, and is followed by a silence so complete that I feel empty inside. My heart skids in my chest, every fear from earlier in the