That’s bad.
It’s so bad I can’t speak. I just nod and wonder why the fuck I’m doing this to myself.
The sunlight fades, but the party continues.
And why the hell does Brooklyn have to be so cool? Like, if I didn’t hate him, he’s the kind of guy I could be friends with.
Actually, he reminds me of Dallas.
But then I realize why he’s being so cool.
Because he knows.
He knows she chose him. Knows there’s no competition. It’s over. He’s won.
He touches her arm.
She laughs.
And I want to kill him.
Gracie is sitting on his lap. Apparently, she knows too.
Why did I agree to this torture?
And why the hell did Damian tell me to come?
Speaking of the fucker, he walks in the door with my sister on his arm. I don’t even want to know where they’ve been or what they’ve been doing for however long this nightmare has been going on.
My sister is glowing and happy. In love.
Damian and Peyton greet everyone and chat while I think about my tattoo.
The one hiding under my shirt in shame.
I was so sure of our love when I got a pair of cowboy boots wrapped in a heart on my side yesterday.
Now, I feel like a fool.
Everyone is laughing. Drinking.
I can’t drink.
I feel like I’m going to explode.
Can't they see?
The time bomb app is going off inside me.
She saved him.
She loved him for more than two years. How did I think I could ever compete with a foundation like that?
Finally, as the sky turns from dusk to night, Brooklyn stands up, touches Keatyn’s shoulder, and says, “Thanks for dinner. I’m gonna head home. I know you and Aiden need to talk.” He looks at me, gives me a wave, and then kisses her on the cheek.
She stands up and hugs him way too tightly.
Then she beams at him and says, “Sunrise together? Surfing, as usual?”
Sunrise?
What about sunset? The million sunsets that we were supposed to watch together?
“Although, I don’t have my board,” she continues. “It’s still in St. Croix.”
Brooklyn smiles at her. “I’ll bring you a board. Don't forget your skirt. Damian, you up for it?”
“Absolutely, man, it’s about time we’re back here together. I already texted all the guys.”
Okay, it's official.
I hate Damian too.
Especially as he says to Keatyn, “Your board is at my house. I brought it home with me.”
She runs over and gives him a hug. “You did? That was so sweet!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, embarrassed by her outpouring of emotion.
That’s one thing I love about her. Her emotions. They always seem so raw. So real. Like everything just affects her more than other people. And that face. God, I love that face. The way her every emotion is practically written across it.
You always know exactly what she’s thinking and feeling.
Except tonight.
With me, she’s guarded.
And that can’t be good.
Brooklyn gives me the once over, then asks, “You surf?”
No.
No fucking way I'm going to surf with him.
But, of course, the competitor in me says, “Absolutely.”
“Can you surf with the sling?”
“Aiden is just learning,” Keatyn tells him. “But he's a natural.” At least she’s sticking up for me a little. She turns to me. “And, no. You’re not surfing with a broken collar bone.”
Then she grabs my pinkie.
It’s a simple, small gesture.
But her touch is like a jolt of lightning to my body.
Bringing all the feelings I’ve been trying to push down right back up to the surface.
She kisses her sisters goodnight and then leads me down to the beach.
Their beach.
I look up at the moon, shining brightly above us.
My life was a mess when I made a wish on it.
A lot of girls who only needed a smile from me, a few shots, or a good game.
My dad says success is a string of failures.
She was a string of failures. Of wrong moves. Of saying stupid stuff.
She infuriated me to no end.
Pushed me to my limits.
I know the moon brought her to me. I know she saved me from myself.
Showed me what love is supposed to be.
Not the shallow, immature love I used to believe in. Love that was nothing more than hormones and ego.
When she kicked the soccer ball at my head, it was like she woke up my soul.
At that moment, I knew.
As naturally as I knew the sound of my own heartbeat.
Knew we belonged together forever.
When I told her she had my heart, I meant it.
And, now, she might choose him. Probably already did.
There were so many times she told me she didn't know where things stood with him. That he still held a piece of her heart.
All I know is this. If she chooses me, I’ll sure as hell dance with her on her birthday.
I take a deep breath and tell myself to stop freaking out.
To believe in our love.
And when I do, I feel the innate pull she has on me—like gravity, constantly drawing me to her.
I really don’t know how I’d ever be okay without her.