I think that’s when it hits me that I’m alone. Alone, and still slightly drunk. In that split second, a flood of panic drowns my body and I instantly reach into the pocket of my sweater to fetch my phone. There’s only one problem. It’s not there.
I check my other pocket, and then I check my bra, and then I check my shoes. No phone, and no cash either. Everything is gone. I don’t know if everything has fallen out of my pockets and is now buried six feet under the sand, or if I’ve been robbed. Either way, I have no means of calling anyone. Now, just like everything else, if I were sober, I would be smart enough to realize that it’s not the end of the world, that the house is only a forty-minute walk away. But I’m not sober and so it is the end of the world.
Tears well in my eyes and I try to blink them away, but my lips begin to quiver and soon they’re rolling down my cheeks. I pull my sweater around me and stare at the sand. I’m scared people notice me crying here like the dumbass sixteen-year-old that I am. I’m too young to be out here drunk and alone and mugged.
“Damn it, Eden,” a voice mutters, and the warmness and familiarity makes me stop weeping. I glance up through tear-blurred eyes to find Tyler approaching me.
“Tiffani is looking for you,” I sniff. I pull the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and dab at my eyes, careful not to smudge my mascara any more than I already have. “Your girlfriend.”
“What the hell are you crying for?” He ignores my words, steps directly in front of me, and lowers his head, looking up at me from beneath his long eyelashes. The emerald in his eyes reminds me of seaweed.
“Everyone left,” I tell him. My eyes are starting to sting and swell up. I sway to the right. “Tiffani, Meghan, Rachael… My phone’s gone.”
Tyler grasps my arm and steadies me, but he also looks me up and down. “How drunk are you?”
“Are you drunk?”
“Not anymore.” He presses his lips together as he thinks for a moment. Leaning forward, he untangles the laces of my shoes from around my fingers and then drops my Chucks to the sand. “Put them back on. There’s trash everywhere.”
When I tear my eyes away from him and glance down, I notice that he’s right. The beach is littered with food packaging and crushed soda cans and lighters. I’ve been dancing on top of all this crap, I think. Quickly, I slip on my shoes, and the sand inside them feels uncomfortable again. But I feel safe now that Tyler is here, so I grin at him despite my blotchy makeup.
“Your dad is going to kill you,” he mutters, but not exactly to me. He heaves a sigh as he scratches the top of his head, trying to figure out what to do.
I don’t intentionally set out to make it difficult for him, but I’m feeling recharged and ready to have fun again, so I twirl away from him. I come to a stop ten feet away and turn back to face him with a playful smirk on my lips. His eyes narrow with concern as he watches, waits. People keep walking through the gap between us, but the moment it’s clear I throw myself onto the ground and forward roll my way back to him. It doesn’t work too well. I end up on my side, my legs tangled around each other, my shoulder possibly dislocated. I hear people around me laughing.
“Get off the ground,” Tyler orders. I feel him grab my body and yank me upright. “What did I just tell you about the trash?”
“I loooove this beach,” I drawl slowly. My head feels heavy and I topple to the left, but Tyler quickly catches me and holds me upright by my shoulders. “I’m going to come back next summer just for this party!”
“Are you coming back next summer?” He looks down at me with a solemn expression and urgency in his voice, and in that split second, it’s like all the alcohol in my bloodstream suddenly evaporates.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It depends if my dad wants me back or not.”
“I hope he does,” Tyler murmurs, his hands still on my body, still holding me. “I know I do.”
My brief sober moment doesn’t last long and I’m back to swaying against his embrace, not quite doing anything purposely. His words barely register in my mind. My swaying develops into an attempt at dancing, but I’m vaguely aware that I just look like a complete fool.
“You’re drawing attention to yourself,” Tyler hisses against my ear as his hands tighten on me, so tight that they restrict my movement, which is exactly what he’s trying to do. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”
“But I’m twenty-one!” I yell at him, laughing through my words. I wiggle under his grasp, and it only makes me giggle at myself even more.