Chapter Eight

I found myself crammed in a Jeep with half a dozen Barbanels, a mess of long limbs and curly dark hair and loud, demanding voices. They had no conception of personal space. It made my heart hurt a little, and I missed my cousins, and my best friend, Grace, and our other friends back home.

We parked at a beach—I had no idea which one, my tentative familiarity with the island vanquished by the darkness—and scrambled down a narrow path in the dunes to the wide expanse of sand. The ocean at night washed over me, the darkness of everything beyond the shore, the sprinkle of stars, the blaze of small fires. Anything could happen at the beach at night. The whole world could unravel.

I’d changed into black pants and a high-necked top with intricate lacework, paired with my sturdy vegan-leather jacket. Winged eyeliner and red lipstick finished the look and made me feel more like myself. I followed the Barbanels toward one of the fires, a slight unease pervading me.

I wasn’t usually bad at parties.

In fact, I usually loved parties. I loved the energy, the press of people, the excitement. I loved getting ready: trying on an outfit or ten, crammed in front of one mirror with three friends. I loved trying weird styles of makeup we’d never done before, blasting the getting-ready playlist Grace and I had been curating since eighth grade, and pausing when “Stay With Me” came on so we could dramatically sing to each other.

I loved the possibility each party offered, even though half the time the kids were the same as always. Still, sometimes someone would sneak in alcohol and some nights it almost felt like we’d achieved what life was supposed to feel like. Like we’d reached the pinnacle of human experience all those movies and ads and other people’s social media kept telling us existed, where we were surrounded by love and friends and excitement and possibility.

Maybe that’s why I felt so uncomfortable here. Because I wasn’t surrounded by any of those things.

Instead, I was an outsider. Not just an outsider, but kind of an angry one with the wrong kind of clothes. At home I wasn’t weird, or it didn’t matter if I was weird because all my friends were too. Sure, preppy kids existed, but they had their own parties. And I wasn’t so bitter at home because I had my friends, and more to think about than how my dad didn’t want to have anything to do with me and how no one wanted to date me for longer than it took to get in my pants.

Anyway. No time to spiral. Time to pay attention.

I might have stuck by Shira, but she immediately joined a very beautiful boy, the kind of gold-touched boy you often found at the center of these groups. He and Shira wandered to the edge of the party. I wasn’t surprised Shira’s boyfriend was as good-looking as she was: pretty people flocked together, after all. I was more surprised by a normal girl in a red romper who bounded up to the Barbanels. She gave Noah, the oldest of the cousins, a quick smack on the lips before slipping comfortably under his arm.

Great. I was surrounded by couples.

This was perhaps an unfair thing to be irritated by, given how often I was snuggled up against someone myself. But it felt different. I felt single. It had been ages since I’d had anything solid and real. Even Louis, my last real boyfriend, always made me feel like he was doing a favor by dating me.

The girl in the romper towed Noah over. “Hi!” The exclamation filled her body as well as her voice. “I’m Abby. You’re Jordan, right? Noah says you’re staying at Golden Doors.”

“Hey. Yeah. Are you also here for the summer?”

“Yeah, I work at one of the bookstores. And you’re Ethan’s boss’s daughter, right?”

“Do you know my dad?”

“No, but Ethan talks about him all the time. Here, come meet my friends.”

Abby gave me girl-next-door vibes. I liked her and her friends. Her roommate, Jane, was a sharply sarcastic Black girl dressed head to toe in Madewell; their other friends consisted of Lexi—a short white girl with an undercut—and her girlfriend, Stella, an Asian American girl with a high ponytail, dark red lip, and denim overalls.

After an hour and two drinks I’d relaxed into their group, even though I’d lost sight of all Barbanels. At least forty or fifty kids spread around the blankets, and a dance pit had formed by someone’s portable Sonos. “Wanna dance?” Abby asked.

“I always want to dance.”

We lost ourselves in the music. I swayed back and forth, surrounded by these girls who weren’t yet my friends but maybe could be, letting everything wash over me: the thrum of music, my pulsing blood, the sway of my hips. It smelled like sea brine and woodsmoke. People’s arms threaded through the air, their movements loose, their hands curved around each other’s hips. The trill of excited conversation and an occasional shout cut above the music. It felt familiar and easy, and for one of the first times since I’d arrived on Nantucket, I fully relaxed.

After an hour or so, I made my way to the drinks cluster and downed four cups of water in rapid succession, sitting on a closed cooler. I was desperately going to need to pee in about twenty minutes. C’est la vie.

Ethan joined me. “Having a good time?”

I considered, breathing in the night. “Yeah. Are you?”

He shrugged, then nodded.

I leaned back on my hands. “I hear you’re giving a talk for my dad.”

Ethan looked at me quickly, then blushed. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

He ducked his head, almost shyly. “Thanks.”

Shy. As though not enough people had told him it was cool. “Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “You’re scaring me.”

I smiled back, not wanting to come off as too judgmental of his family. “I was wondering—what’s up with your parents? They sounded weird about you working for my dad. As though my dad was doing it out of pity.”

“Ah. That.” He stared straight ahead. For the first time since I’d met him, no merriment animated his face, and his profile was hard and unexpectedly stark without it. “They probably think he is.”

“Why? My dad thinks you’re brilliant.”

Ethan’s face swung toward mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure slackers don’t sign up to be historian’s assistants for four summers in a row.”

“They might if all they did was go out on ship excursions.”

I frowned, not liking the self-recrimination in his voice, as though he didn’t give himself credit for anything he did. “Sure, but I’m pretty certain you mostly do endless research.”

“Yeah.” His voice was lighter this time. “Weird, I guess.”

I studied this boy, who I resented and who I desired, who aggravated me and who made me laugh. I’d thought I’d figured him out before I came here: a pompous rich boy. Then I’d thought I’d figured out the boy on the boat: a carefree playboy. But maybe I hadn’t figured Ethan Barbanel out at all.

He turned toward the sea, looking out at the dark, rolling waves. “You asked why I was working for your dad, a few days ago. Honestly…he was the first person to take me seriously. My family thinks I’m a goof.”

“You are a goof. You yelled ‘cock-a-doodle-do’ while running into the ocean. That doesn’t mean you can’t also be serious about things.”

“Wow. How very—I don’t know, adult of you.”

“I spent a lot of time in therapy.” I shrugged. “You know. The dead mom thing.”

Ethan looked like he’d been struck. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“I know,” I said, because everyone was always sorry, and it did suck. “Thank you.”

“Did, uh—did the therapy help?”

“Think about how much more of a mess I’d be if I hadn’t gone,” I said lightly. “How did you know my dad would take you seriously? I mean, what made you decide to work with him in the first place?”

Ethan sat on the cooler next to me. “Let’s see. I was sixteen. My parents were on me about college and what extracurriculars I needed. I’d done an adventure camp the past couple summers—camper, then CIT. But my family said I should work at the family firm, to round out my activities.” He made a face.

“Not your cup of tea?”

“I’m not really a numbers kind of guy. Everyone expected Noah to be the one involved in the company anyway, so I dragged my feet.”

I couldn’t tell if this meant Ethan didn’t want any part of it, or if he didn’t think the family wanted him. “Did you want to be involved in the company?”

Ethan mock shuddered. “Definitely not. Too much responsibility.”

I shot him a look. “Come on.”

“What?”

“I just told you I don’t buy your ‘I’m a carefree goof and nothing more’ vibe.”

Surprise flickered across his face, and he gave me a somewhat twisted smile. “Everyone else does.”

“I guess everyone else doesn’t see how hard my dad works you, then.”

“Thanks.” He paused. “Okay, maybe…I didn’t want to disappoint anyone? I wouldn’t have been good at the job, and my family would have been disappointed in me, and I—I didn’t want to be a failure, you know?”

His words squeezed at my chest. “I don’t think you could be a failure to your family.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not driven the way they are. I can’t sit still for nine hours a day and look at Excel and have it make sense.” He shook his head, like he was shaking the whole thing off. The wind off the sea was strong, and we both briefly shivered in a particularly cold gust. “Your dad did stuff I like—he goes out on the water, explores, experiments—and he has so much energy, you know? I knew as soon as we talked I wanted to work with him.”

I wanted to say his family should appreciate him, should understand there were different ways of being smart, but Ethan wasn’t the one who needed the lecture. “My dad says you’re majoring in archaeology.”

Ethan brightened. “Yeah. It’s all about answering questions and figuring out how people work. And it’s outdoorsy and active and makes you think.”

“It sounds perfect.”

“It kind of is.” He wrapped his arms around his knees and directed his words to them, a little quietly. “Are we good, after last night?”

I flashed back to yelling at him and crying on the roof walk, and gave him a wry smile. “I should probably be the one asking you.”

“I just…I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take your place with your dad. He clearly adores you.”

I looked out at the ocean, swallowing. “Thanks.”

“And…I want us to be friends. It’s nice, talking to you. I don’t feel pressure. I dunno. Maybe it’s because to you, I’m your dad’s assistant instead of a Barbanel? It feels like you expect me to be smart.”

It hurt my heart a little, the way he described other people’s view of him. I didn’t want to let on though; I didn’t think he’d respond well to pity. “Like I said, my dad thinks you’re brilliant. So you must be.”

He smiled, broad and honest and innocent, and for the first time, I felt like there was no pretense between us, no walls or games or angles. Just a girl and a boy, on a beach, in the night, breathing in the salty, cool air.

“Hey, Ethan.” A girl stood before us, with a pointed, elven chin, wide eyes, and short dark hair. “Good to see you.”

In a split second, Ethan switched his attention to the girl, focusing on her like a spotlight on a Broadway star. “Dawn. You look great.”

Irritation spiked through me, which was a bad sign. I should have been relieved by the interruption. I shouldn’t have wanted to throw sand at this girl’s face. This was a good reminder: Ethan didn’t like me, he liked flirting. And I didn’t want to fall for someone like that this summer. Or ever again.

“Thanks.” She took a step closer. “How was your semester?”

“It was good, yeah. Yours?”

“Great.”

They smiled at each other, and Dawn’s gaze darted to me expectantly, then back to Ethan. “Okay, well, maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Totally.”

She walked away, ruffling her hair, and I watched Ethan watch her go. I spoke lightly. “I think you were supposed to introduce us.”

“You could have introduced yourself.” He grinned. “Besides, if we did introductions, she would have stuck around longer.”

I raised my brows. “You didn’t want her to?”

He shrugged. In the moonlight, he looked like a statue gilded in silver. “I like my current company.”

Butterflies danced within me. Oh no.

Because I knew how to respond to that, and I wanted to respond by flirting back. The problem with me and Ethan, I was beginning to realize, was we were too much alike. We found flirting easy and comfortable. It was our default.

I turned away, pulling my knees to my chest. It was the alcohol, and the pitch-black ocean, and the moon making me drop my guard. The moon drove people mad, they used to say. “I have a goal this summer.”

“A goal,” Ethan echoed.

“Yeah. You know how you mentioned my—messy dating record? I don’t want to be messy anymore.” I wasn’t sure if I was warning him away or making a promise to the universe. “No more chaotic choices. Like hooking up with strangers.”

“What about non-strangers?”

I tried not to think about our encounter on the ferry, about how much I’d liked his heat, his solidness, his hands. “No,” I said firmly. “I have to take a break. I suck at dating, even casually, since I always fall for whoever I’m hooking up with. I like them more than they like me, and I get my heart broken. And I’m really tired of trying to put it back together.”

He looked at me a long moment, the moonlight pouring over him. “I see.”

I could hear the party around us, the thump of the music, the roar of laughter and yelling, all underscored by the ceaseless roar of the surf. His eyes were bright and steady, and I wondered what he saw, or thought he did. If he understood how hard I could fall for him if I let myself, and how I refused to do so.

He glanced away first. “Well, I’m an expert at getting my heart broken. I get it broken all the time.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.” He flashed a grin. “I’m like Humpty-Dumpty with my heart.”

“Are you? Because they couldn’t put Humpty-Dumpty together again.”

Ethan blinked. “Oh. Right. Okay, I’m Humpty-Dumpty 2.0. I get better and faster at piecing my heart back together every time it gets smashed.”

I would have expected Ethan to do the heartbreaking, not the other way around. “Who’s broken your heart?”

“Who hasn’t?” Ethan said lightly. He ticked the first off on his finger. “Sophia Cooper. Told me she wanted someone smart, not a dumb jock.”

“Are you serious? She called you a dumb jock?”

“Nah, but she said I only thought about lacrosse. In my defense, it was the height of the season. Trinity Chen,” he continued, unfolding another finger. “Told me I wasn’t serious enough. I thought I was serious, but apparently not. Ashley Shields. Dumped me for Brian Campedelli. He got into MIT early decision. Maya Perez. Told me she was looking for a real relationship.”

I felt insulted on Ethan’s behalf. “These girls sound mean.”

“Nah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They just had their own view of things.”

“Well, they sound like jerks.”

He smiled briefly. “What about your broken hearts?”

“Oh, wow, let’s see.” I leaned back on my hands. “My last real boyfriend broke up with me at Thanksgiving. Then I had a huge crush on this boy at work, who ghosted me. After him, I had a friend-with-benefits who I ended up liking, even though he was kind of a jerk. He ghosted me, too, but he went to my school so it was harder. Then he showed up at prom with a real girlfriend, which was salt in the wound.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Before Louis—my ex—I dated two guys junior year, both of whom I thought were, like, my soulmate—but they both dumped me. The summer between sophomore and junior year I was obsessed with this guy at the diner, but we spent half our time fighting. So on and so forth. Apparently I’m bad at picking people.”

He was quiet a moment. “Sorry. Sounds like a lot of shitty experiences.”

“That’s life, isn’t it?” I tried to sound less weary than I felt. I shook it off, tired of the subject, tired of being the kind of person I apparently was, a person who was easy to hook up with and easy to abandon. I expected Ethan was equally tired of being considered a goof by both his family and his girlfriends. “You should tell your parents to take you more seriously. They shouldn’t dismiss how hard you work.”

He smiled wryly at the stars. “You should tell your dad you want to spend more time with him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. We’ve reached a standstill. Neither of us will properly communicate with our parents.”

“Sounds good to me.” To my surprise, Ethan covered my hand with his own, giving it a small squeeze. I had no idea what he meant by it—a shared understanding, a flirtation, an accident—but it made my chest ache. Maybe neither of us was honest with our parents, but at least we’d been honest with each other. The wind and moonlight and sea had stripped us bare, and there were no more pretenses between me and Ethan Barbanel.