Archive of Our Own ^beta

A seagull watched Neil with beady eyes as he arrived at the resort.

Neil glared right back. Though, his sour mood was lost at the sight of the roiling ocean before him. Neil stretched his uninjured leg when he hit the pavement, the humidity burning his nose and setting his heart alight. The smell of salt was familiar, and Neil could breathe for the first time in weeks. 

He thought it ought to hurt, being surrounded by something he craved that was so out of reach.

Four weeks, he told himself, four weeks and it’s yours. You just need to survive this first.

The driver helped Neil with his belongings as he adjusted his arms under his crutches, the chunky grey boot in contrast to green grass. He asked something about missing bags. Neil was adamant his large duffel was all he needed. It did look plain without a board, not that Neil remembered where he hid the last one.

He made his way to the staircase, taking them carefully as he wasn’t about to make a repeat of last week. Falling on his ass and down the stairs was not the plan for the morning. Neil wanted a good first impression. The second they saw his injury there was a chance they’d throw him back on the bus, and he couldn’t risk that. 

Neil didn’t know if he could handle another summer without air conditioning, and Palmetto Resort was as good a place as any to stave off the heat.

Palmetto had a reputation, with five stars to cement such prestige. Surfers from across the country and the world visited its beaches and stayed in its room. Those fortunate enough (and cashed up enough) had the chance to ride the waves on their private beach; Neil ached to take advantage of the swell. 

He was sweating by the time he made it to the threshold. The doorman watched him with thinly veiled pity, his eyes not too dissimilar to the seagull. Neil powered on and suppressed a sigh when the expensive air conditioning hit his skin, soothing the layer of lingering humidity. He wasn’t able to take in much, not when he noticed the figure standing a few feet ahead.

Kevin Day reclined against the front desk, and Neil stumbled slightly mid-step. 

He hadn’t seen Kevin in years. They briefly crossed paths at a rookie event years ago, back when Neil’s parents amused the idea of surfing. Neil remembered being captivated by Kayleigh Day’s son, born into the sport and breathing it easier than air. He’s only seen him through the media since, but Neil mimicked his own moves enough to recognise him anywhere. He was taller in person, all hard muscles and sharp edges, rivalling the marble statue in the foyer.

Those keen eyes languidly found Neil’s. He stared for a long moment, and Neil could only stare back. Kevin readjusted the glasses on his nose and asked, “Do I know you?” 

Neil shook his head, uncomfortable with how Kevin continued to stare. He bit back the urge to snipe, not thinking it would help his case if he pissed off one of the world’s elite surfers. Neil settled at the other end of the desk and thanked the bus driver. Kevin eyed the boot but didn’t say anything more. Neil’s cheeks felt hot under the scrutiny. 

Neil also recognised the man that rounded the corner, clad in an orange and white polo that brought out his tribal tattoos. David Wymack was the manager of the resort and the man who had given him the job. He was the reason Neil was employed so he stood a little straighter at the sight of him. 

“You're still waiting, Kev?” Kevin grunted in response. Wymack understood. “Gordon is really doing his best to get his ass fired, isn’t he?”

“I told you he was useless.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wymack waved him off. He turned to Neil. “Sorry, kid, have you booked a room?”

“No,” Neil mustered his best customer service voice. It felt foreign crawling up his throat, like vomit. “I’m Neil Josten. I’m here for the summer job.” 

The words didn’t sound real, and if anyone asked Neil two weeks ago where he’d be it would be anywhere but here. It would especially shock his doctor, but Neil had taken her words with a grain of salt anyway. He’d done more with less, what did they know about injury and recovery? 

Wymack grumbled something Neil didn’t think he was meant to hear. It sounded a lot like, finally some good news, with a few more expletives. 

Wymack led Neil down a long corridor until they arrived at a small office room. Neil sunk down in one of the padded chairs, the crutches almost falling when he rested them against the table. Wymack, having offered to take his duffel, dropped it next to him. Neil rested his boot on it with a huff.

“How was your drive?”

“Long.”

“I can imagine,” Wymack looked awkward with the pleasantries. Neil couldn’t blame him. “You’ll get the weekend to familiarise yourself with the resort and the staff, and Abby can help train you with the computers and the phones. If all goes well, you’ll be starting Monday.” 

“What about Gordon?” 

Wymack pondered for a moment before the words clicked. “Seth? He’ll be out of here before Monday, he’s been on thin ice for weeks now. You won’t have the pleasure of meeting him.” 

It still didn’t feel like enough. “Are you sure this-” Neil pointed to his ankle, “-isn’t a problem?” If he’d gotten this far Neil knew it wasn’t, but he needed to hear Wymack say it out loud. The anxiety still clutched at his stomach, waiting to rip out the ground beneath him. 

He also didn’t say anything about the scar on his face, but Wymack seemed to have enough tact not to mention it. 

“You’re here. You can walk, and you can talk,” Wymack said. “So if you’re willing, you can work. Where you lack experience you make up for in enthusiasm, and that’s what this place needs.”

They sped through formalities and paperwork, Wymack clearly understanding how tedious it all was, and Neil couldn’t stop his good leg from bouncing. Neil wanted to get it over and done with and wander the beach already, sand in his boot be damned. 

“You’ll be manning the front desk,” Wymack handed Neil his uniform, the orange and white just as blinding up close. “Taking calls, booking in guests, all the easy stuff that’ll make you want to rip your hair out.” A key was then handed to Neil, coloured the same bright orange. “As for accommodation, we have a staff share house ten minutes down the road.” 

Neil’s grimace must have been more pronounced than he’d hoped, as Wymack was quick to placate him. “There’s only seven of them in this particular house, don’t stress. These lot have been working here long enough to know the rules and help you out. If you have any problems, though, we could probably work something out.” 

“How quickly could you work something out?” 

“At least try it first, kid. You might surprise yourself.”

Neil doubted that, but he wouldn’t backchat his new boss, at least not on his first day. There was an entire summer for that. 

The tour of the resort was brief, with Wymack having to deal with a poolside ‘disaster.’ He left the afternoon empty for Neil to familiarise himself with his new home. Neil dreaded it. He wasn’t going to take a roof and a mattress for granted, he just wasn’t too sure where he’d go if it didn’t work out. He’d spent too much time on couches and in alleyways to throw the opportunity away, and time would tell if Neil had to get used to uncomfortable nights again.

The share house was what he expected, a humble old blue weatherboard positioned on tall stilts. The porch was stacked with everything and nothing at all, surfboards and chairs taking up the majority of the space. With each careful step Neil found something new to look at, a small fox made out of twisted wire particularly catching his eye.

He was panting by the time he reached the porch, and he looked mournfully down at his discarded duffel. Wymack had assured him there would be at least one staff member home, and he had to hope they’d be kind enough to grab it for him. Neil prepared himself for the inevitable, and was already figuring out how he would retrieve it.

The stairs and his crutches were going to be a killer each and every day. Neil would endure if it meant keeping the view of the water.

Neil noticed a sign by the door labelled ‘HOUSE RULES’ in bold lettering:

• Make everybody welcome and respect personal boundaries

• Lights out at 12am - some of us have shifts at 6am

• No fighting! You’ll be out on the couch for a week with no bug spray

• If you steal someone else’s food or shampoo the victim is free to inflict whatever punishment they deem necessary 

• Wash your dirty feet with the tap near the porch stairs

• Keep your boards (and Kevin) outside 

• Always! Wear! Sunscreen! >:(

Neil thumbed at the scrawled face almost entirely covered by dirt and peeled laminate. He already had an image of his housemates in his mind, and he wondered what chaos would greet him when he opened the chipped orange door. He knocked once, twice, and waited only a few seconds before the door flew open and revealed a beaming face.

“Oh, you must be Neil!” His hand was warm and slightly clammy, but friendly nonetheless. Neil feared his arm would be jostled from its socket with his continued enthusiasm. “I’m Nicky! Wymack texted me and told me everything about you. Do you need help with your bags? Who am I kidding? Of course you do. Wait here.”

Nicky bounded down the stairs in a flurry, leaving Neil blinking on the threshold. He returned in a few seconds, having the grace to not mention the single bag, and ushered him inside. “Man, this is so exciting,” he said, “we haven’t had a fresh face in two summers.” 

The inside of the house was more put together than the outside, only barely. The kitchen had clearly been renovated since the 70’s, and looked out of place compared to the dated wallpaper and mismatched furniture. It was like the housemates all put their own style into the house, leading to wayward patterns and a blinding concoction of colour and wooden textures. 

“I thought we could room you with Matt, he’s got the only room downstairs and there’s a spare bed in there anyway,” Nicky started to ramble. Neil had no choice but to let him. “He uses two single beds as a double bed. He says it’s comfortable. I think he’s full of shit.”

The bedroom was standard sized with sky blue walls and surf posters scattered across the far wall. They were a myriad of old and new. Neil recognised most of the faces, noting one with Kevin had been defaced. Nicky dropped Neil’s duffel by the bed closest to the door and threw out his arms. “Home sweet home, Neil.”

Neil slumped down with a sigh and pulled his leg onto the bed. Nicky watched him quietly, eyes following every movement. He looked to be holding his tongue and Neil wondered if he’d twist it if he misspoke. The heat was getting to him.

Neil filled the silence. “What do you do here?”

Nicky slapped his thigh with a grin like it was an answer in itself. “I’m a lifeguard. So if you ever find yourself drowning, I’m your man! Unless it’s not my shift, then you’re on your own.”

“Don’t scare him off already, Nicky,” a low voice spoke. A man lounged against the door, his smile easy and his stance non threatening. He was tall, his intricate braids scattered with colourful beads. “Neil, right? I’m Matt.” 

Nicky pointed to Neil’s boot. “He’s got a broken ankle.”

“I can see that,” Matt moved into the room and sat on the other bed. He crossed his legs and grabbed his own ankles. He sat in silence for a moment before he asked, “Do you surf?” 

Neil nodded vigorously. “I do.” 

Nicky perked up. “Is that how you broke your ankle?” 

He knew the question would be asked, but it still made Neil tense. He took a breath and did what he did best.

Lie.

“I was on a run by the beach. There were seagulls, and one appeared in front of me and it was either dodge it or kick it. I dodged and-” Neil mimicked the sound of the break, watching them both for a reaction. He got it in winces and groans. They seemed gentle enough, too worried about the seagull to probe any deeper. 

Neil nearly made a face at how easy it was. 

“Oh, Neil, that’s so awful,” Nicky pouted. “I’m sure the seagull was grateful.” 

Neil was sure the imaginary seagull didn’t give a shit. 

They ventured into the lounge, Neil and Nicky on the couch and Matt on the armchair adjacent. Neil sipped on a juice box when they ran down the house rules for him a second time. Neil started to pay more attention at the mention of the other housemates, drawing his eyes from the two large windows and the idea that he could stay here, maybe just a few weeks.

“So there’s seven of us that live here, now eight,” Matt explained. “There’s Nicky and his cousins, Aaron and Andrew, they’re… interesting,” Nicky nodded with a tense smile. “Then there’s the girls, Dan, Renee, and Allison. Dan’s beautiful.”

“Keep that straight shit to yourself, Matthew,” Nicky quipped and dodged a flying pillow. 

Matt raised another pillow before Nicky interjected again. “I think the only person who could be any trouble is Andrew, but he troubles everybody.” 

“What does he look like?” 

“Short, blonde, and exactly like his brother.” At Neil’s blank stare Nicky sighed. “They’re twins, Neil, just avoid them both.” 

Neil could do that.

The water was all that mattered, as did money from summer and the freedom of being alone. Four walls and a clean mattress only made it easier. Neil would keep to himself, run through the motions of his work and accept the room he’d been given, all the while counting down the days until he could take off the orthotic and get back in the water.

Neil didn’t get the chance to see the beach that night.

After a dinner of cheap ramen with Nicky and Matt, their easy chatter lulling him into a state of content that surprised him, his body finally gave in to the exhaustion of the bus ride and early rise. It was strange, having someone asleep in the same room as him. Neil found solace in the proximity to the door and the weight of his bedside clock beside just in case he needed it.

He fell asleep to the sound of the ocean, and it was the first undisturbed rest he’d had for a long while, or perhaps even a little longer. 

Neil woke with the sun the next morning.

He went through the motions of tightening the straps on his boot and stretching and rolling his shoulders. He glanced at Matt who was still fast asleep, phone on his chest like he’d passed out mid text. Neil pulled himself to his feet, grabbed his crutches and ventured to the kitchen.

He raided the fridge for milk and cereal. Nicky had given Neil his blessing to take what he needed, rule 4 abandoned for the time being until Neil had the chance to go shopping. He was bemused by the consideration, not expecting them to warm up to him so quickly. It hadn’t even been 24 hours. 

It’s the salt, Neil thought. Maybe it corroded their brains. They’re all insane. 

Neil wondered how long it would take him to snap. He could only hope it was after his first surf.

The stairs groaned, and Neil watched as two women appeared around the corner. They were polar opposites. The blonde was tall with a formidable stare and tanned, towering legs, the other shorter with pastel dyed hair and a long skirt.

The latter smiled politely at Neil. “You must be Neil, I’m Renee and this is Allison.” 

“I can see why Nicky was making a fuss in the group chat last night,” Allison leaned over with a spoon Neil hadn’t seen her grab, and stole his cereal. 

Neil hugged the bowl to his chest. “What?” 

“Honey,” Allison's laughter rivalled the windchimes on the porch. “Have you looked in a mirror?”

Neil had, only this morning. He saw blue and auburn. He saw the scar that upturned the left side of his lip. He wondered how many people would have the decency to ignore it at reception. He wondered how many complaints it would take for Wymack to fire him. 

Another woman appeared, as if Allison's behaviour was enough to summon her. “Let’s not eat him alive on his second day, Allison.” She shook Neil’s hand with a strong grip, her brown eyes alight. “I’m Dan.”

Neil felt an odd sensation of whiplash. He couldn’t remember the last time he was introduced to so many people in such a short amount of time, and he felt remarkably out of depth. He had no idea what to say, or how to react, Neil able to count his past friendships on one hand.

He led with what he’d heard a million times before, even if it made his stomach hurt. “It’s nice to meet you all.” 

“The feeling is mutual,” Dan bit into an apple and juice went flying. It hit Allison's cheek and she shrieked. Dan ignored her. “So, what’s Wymack hired you for?”

“The front desk.”

Allison snorted. Neil didn’t understand what was so funny. “So he’s finally gotten rid of Seth? Good riddance.” 

“Wasn’t he here just last week-?”

Allison put a finger to Dan’s lips. 

The girls started to bicker, and Neil focused his attention into finishing his cereal. Renee took the empty bowl and washed it for him, then planted herself on the stool adjacent. Allison and Dan moved to the living room, leaving the two alone.

“How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” Neil rubbed his shoulder. “Not used to the bed.”

Renee hummed. “They grow on you. Have you worked at a resort before?”

“No. No jobs like this.”

“I was the same,” she said. “My past experience couldn’t be further from this.”

He caught something in her eye then, like she was reading between the lines and hearing the unsaid. I’m not used to this bed because I'm not used to beds at all. I haven’t had jobs like this because I’ve never had a legitimate boss. Neil narrowed his eyes. There was no way she could possibly know he’d lied on his resume to get the job, but the thought persisted. 

Neil reminded himself to never be alone in a room with Renee, lest she peel back his skin.

Renee continued her pleasantries. “Why Palmetto?”

“The beach.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Renee hummed. “I get the feeling you’re not from around here.”

“No, I’m not.”

Baltimore felt lifetimes away. 

At eighteen he packed his bags and took the first bus to the west coast and never looked back. Three years later and he didn’t regret his decision, not for a second, even with the filth and cold he endured on the streets. Free of Baltimore there was no more arguing and no more bruises. No more Nathaniel. Just Neil, his crappy part time jobs, bus shelters, his freedom and the surf. 

Renee looked towards the clock and rose to her feet. “Well, I suppose as long as you’re where you need to be now, that’s all that matters. I hope you enjoy your stay here, Neil.”

Neil got ready as quickly as he could after Renee offered to drive him to the resort. Showering was still an ordeal, but Nicky had gotten him a stool the night before so it wasn’t the disaster it could’ve been. The orange uniform didn’t clash too badly with his auburn hair as he expected, but Neil still felt strangled wearing it.

Neil hadn’t seen the kombi van when he arrived yesterday, and that was a feat in itself. It was painted a vibrant orange, with paw prints scattered across the rear of the van. It was parked in the open garage under the house, and Dan helped him into the van where Allison was already seated. 

Dan had to shout over the loud radio. “This is our communal baby, do you drive?” 

Neil never got his licence, not that it ever stopped him. “Not lately.”

“That’s okay, we can be your own private chauffeurs. Everybody around here minus the twins will help you out, so don’t worry.” 

It was the second mention of the twins, and the curiosity sparked like a flying ember. He let his mind wander during the ten minute drive, and Neil visibly relaxed when the ocean came into view. The day was clearer than the previous, the sky blue and the waves consistent, Palmetto Resort a worthy buoy. 

Wymack greeted Neil at the front desk and introduced him to a smiling Abby. She specialised in IT, and pretty much everything else. Neil hung onto all of her words and explanations, wanting to absorb everything as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t have anyone hovering over the neck any longer than they needed to be. 

“You’re a fast learner,” she commended when he practised a call and booking. Neil had plenty of practice blending into his surroundings, but his customer service voice continued to surprise him. “You’ll blend in well here. Everyone seems to work at double speed.”

He found himself in the resort restaurant for his break, Caught off Coastal. It was seafood based, the room full of wooden tones and pops of blue. Neil ordered the fruit salad, having never liked the smell of fish. Allison was his server. She planted herself opposite him and started to dig into a basket of fries she’d brought out for herself, her long nails already coated in a thick layer of salt.

“How are you going, honey?”

Neil shrugged. 

Allison dipped her fries into the sweet chilli dip, careful of ruining her lipstick as she did. “You get used to it, and with the weather warming up it’ll only get busier. That means longer hours, more annoying vacationers, blah blah. You’ll be fine.” 

“What if I’m rude to the annoying vacationers?”

“Well, hopefully they don’t come back and that’s one less table I need to wait.”

She bid him farewell with a scruff of his hair. Neil watched her go with a strange sort of confusion welling in his chest.

Wymack continued his tour and led Neil around more of the resort, showing off the various pools and some of the rooms. There was as much elegance as he expected, with everything clean and of an incredible standard. Neil felt out of place under the shine of it all. Even the plants were grandiose, Neil finding himself staring at his reflection in more than one of the watered leaves. 

“How about you shadow Abby for the rest of the day,” Wymack said when they finished their second loop of the pool. Neil didn’t see the sense in seeing it again. He got the feeling Wymack liked this part of the resort the most. “You’ll feel more confident for your first full day on Monday.”

The afternoon passed in a lull, Neil with his eyes more on the sea beyond the windows than the patrons checking in and out. He managed a smile, even a laugh. He copied Abby’s greetings and ticks, down to the very syllable. Neil would copy and paste each day so he could savour the sunset.

And with Abby bidding him farewell at five, Neil finally had the private beach in his sights. 

He set off down the fixed pathway, the concrete morphing to wooden planks and then an abundance of clear sand. He dumped his crutches by the staircase, and he sighed the moment the warm sand hit his singular bare foot. His boot sunk into the soft surface. Neil persisted until he met the harder, damp sand. 

Neil breathed in the salty hair hungrily and closed his eyes. The breeze ruffled his loose curls and the inviting sun was already darkening the freckles spread across his nose and cheeks. He’d lost a few over the winter and after his accident, and he had the burning desire to find them again. 

He opened his eyes at the familiar sound of bodies wading through water, the splashing reminiscent of countless early hours spent on perfecting aerials and watching the sunrise. It was something Neil never had in Baltimore, something he had to savour on vacation, and even then his parents barely allowed it. The rookie circuit was a one off, a mistake his father never made again. 

Too much money. Too much joy. It wasn’t finance, it wasn’t a money maker. It had no purpose; it was a pipedream. 

Kevin made his way out of the water alongside three others, their wetsuits the highest of quality and their boards the newest models. Neil averted his eyes at the shine. He recognised them when his vision cleared: Thea Muldani, Jeremy Knox, and Jean Moreau, the poster children of the modern American circuit. 

The latter muttered a sharp Kook when they stalked passed.

Neil bristled. “What was that?” 

Jean stopped, flicking sand at Neil’s boot. He looked down his nose at him, one perfect eyebrow raised. He smelled like cologne and not at all like salt. “I think you heard,” he said. 

“Jean,” Jeremy sighed and grabbed his elbow with one very freckled hand. “Let’s play nice.”

“He’s taking up space on the beach.”

“There’s nobody around,” Neil gestured to the almost empty beach, with only a few guests scattered across the sand. The majority were in the water. “You seem to be the only one with a problem, Moreau.”

“So you know me? How flattering,” Jean leaned down into his space, his French accent thickening. “And who knows you?” 

Neil responded in French. "Votre mère."

Kevin grabbed Jean’s wrist and dragged him away, his curious glance at Neil amusing beside Jean’s affronted scowl. Thea followed them, indifferent. All Jeremy could do was offer Neil an apologetic look before hurrying off, the flurry of furious French insults lost to the tide.

Neil breathed out slowly and collected his bearings, the lull of the tide immediately soothing. He stayed and watched the water for a long while, the constant flow gently pressing into each and every painful knot in his shoulder. He forgot about his ankle, and the resort, and allowed himself an earned moment of peace.

He arrived back at the share house after dark, having easily lost time.

Neil trudged up the stairs, the wire fox watching him as he went with those large, mismatched eyes. The house was teeming with life, Neil dodging Allison as she hurried back and forth from room to room looking for something. He settled quietly at the table, greeting the others with a small wave as they fretted over dinner. 

“Hey Neil, where were you?” Matt asked, slumping down beside him. “Nicky was starting to freak out.”

“The beach.”

“Fair,” Matt wound his arm around the back of Neil’s chair, the wood creaking with the strain. “Busy?”

“No. Just an asshole surfer.”

“Hmm. One of the three?”

“There were four of them.”

“Knox isn’t included, he’s lovely. A dream, really,” Nicky sighed. “It’s the other three you have to worry about, they’re a bit… standoffish. Frenchie is the worst.”

“Jean is nice to talk to after a few drinks,” Renee set down a bowl of salad. “He’s a lot like Kevin in that sense.” 

“Kevin has no sense about him,” Allison said, fiddling with two bottles of nail polish, “not even with a few shots of vodka in him. Fucking shame. He’s a dream.”

Nicky scoffed. “Like you would ever go there, Reynolds.” 

“If I covered his mouth it would be a good night,” Allison winked. 

“They come every summer, the whole lot of them,” Matt explained, ignoring the lewd gestures Allison and Nicky were sharing. “They come for the waves and for the free accomodation, free food and drinks and everything else really.”

Irritation burst inside of Neil, hot and fragrant. “They shouldn’t get free shit just because of who they are. Not when they can afford it.” 

“It’s not because they have money,” Matt said. “Not completely. Wymack is Kevin’s father.” 

Neil should’ve noticed it the second they stood beside each other the day he arrived. Similar in build, similar jaws and scowls, with Kevin’s skin a lighter shade of brown and his eyes entirely his mother’s. Neil wondered if he shared any of his father’s tattoos. 

“If they have the money,” Neil repeated, “they should have to pay just like everybody else.”

“Look, I hear you, mean,” Matt yawned. “The only one I get is Kevin, but the others are rolling in enough cash they can afford it. They could definitely hand some out to the rest of us.”

“Jeremy tips just fine, Jean is flaky,” Allison stuck out her tongue. “He and Kevin are perfect for one another.”

“You’re still wrong about that, Reynolds.”

“I really don’t think I am, sweetheart.”

Neil wasn’t following.

“It’s a game we like to play,” Allison explained when she caught the look on Neil’s face. “Whose dating Kevin Day? We’re yet to figure it out, but I know I’m right.” 

Dan wandered in with a tub of ice cream, spoon hanging out of her mouth. Matt caught her by the waist and dragged her close, nestling his head against her collarbone. She motioned with her spoon as she spoke, having been listening to the conversation down the hall. “It’s definitely Thea.”

“Have you seen the way he stares at Knox?”

“Maybe it’s a polyamorous thing.”

“No way!” Nicky shouted. “He’s a prude.” 

Allison grinned. “That’s where you’re wrong, Hemmick. I know something you don’t,” she singsonged, taking the last cherry tomato from his plate and popping it into her mouth. 

“And what would that be?”

“Nothing you need to know.”

“Oh come on, what the-”

Neil drowned them out, dizzy with their voices.

He left them to their own devices after dinner, needing to wind down before his first full day.

Of course, as it was with fate, Neil couldn’t sleep. 

He made his way downstairs after the group settled for bed, the moon casting a shadow on the clock, reading half past eleven. Neil noticed the large lamp in the lounge turned on and tilted his head. It cast a yellow glow on the colourful walls, the obscure shape of the lamp itself leaving a ghostly shadow. Another shadow was cast in the kitchen, and that one was moving.

Short and blonde, Neil had half an idea of the cryptid he’d just encountered. “Which twin are you?”

He barely startled. “The unplanned one.” 

“So you’re Andrew,” Neil guessed. From what he’d heard of the twins there would be two contrasting reactions to the question. Aaron would aim a fist at his eye, and Andrew would mutter something dry and condescending.

For the sake of Neil’s face, he hoped for the latter, and fate finally allowed him a win. 

“How observant. Want a cookie?” Andrew got on his tiptoes to reach for one of the lower shelves, and retrieved a large glass jar of double choc chip biscuits. He munched on one and watched Neil, who refused to back down from whatever contest he’d started. 

Neil was starving. Andrew didn’t need to know that. “I’m fine.” 

“I was wondering when I’d bump into the ghost everyone’s been talking about,” Andrew finished the first biscuit and was already halfway through his second. “I was starting to think they’d all finally lost their minds.” 

“With this wallpaper I wouldn’t blame them.”

Andrew bit down harshly on a biscuit. The crumbs scattered across the kitchen floor, and Andrew stepped over them. He gave Neil one long glance up and down. “Don’t tell me you’re a surfer. It’s going to drastically affect how interesting I find you.”

Neil suppressed a scoff. “What’s wrong with surfing?” 

“Sand.”

“You work at a beach resort.”

“I’m being held here against my will.”

Neil didn’t know where Andrew’s joke started or ended, so he kept his face carefully neutral. “If you knew how to surf, you’d be in the water, not the sand. Maybe that’s why you hate it, you’re not doing it right.”

“You’re a clone already.” 

“Says the twin.”

“I didn’t choose to be,” Andrew wiped his hands on his sweatpants. “You’ve chosen to be irritating.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t plan to.”

Andrew stopped in front of him. He was only slightly shorter than Neil, though when Andrew looked at him it felt like they were eye to eye. It felt like Andrew was taller, larger than himself. Up close Neil understood what the others were saying. The intensity of his hazel eyes, the broadness of his shoulders and the coarse edge of his words, it all painted a distinct image of Andrew.

“Move.”

“Make me.”

Andrew wrapped his hands around each of Neil’s biceps, easily lifting him up and dropping him a foot to his left. He shouldered past Neil, who stared at the space Andrew vacated, bewildered. He spun around, Andrew already on his way upstairs. Neil was convinced he was dreaming, not knowing what to make of any of it.

“Where are you going?” Neil asked, not expecting an answer.

“To bed,” Andrew answered. “I need to be up early for the Queen or he’ll be even more intolerable.” 

Neil didn’t understand a word of that sentence until the morning.

He glanced out the window with bleary eyes to see Kevin walking up the short pathway to the house. Neil wandered through the house, the hallway having an eerily quiet ambience at half past five in the morning. He kept his footfalls light and caught Andrew slipping through the doorway, a cigarette in hand that Kevin scorned. 

Neil watched them go through the window, noting Kevin’s board and wetsuit. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy. Neil fell onto the couch with a huff, his boot barely missing the hard edge of the wooden coffee table. He would’ve liked to break it if only to settle the angry feeling in his chest, but he didn’t want to wake Matt.

Neil was three hours into his shift when the morning turned. 

“What’s taking so long?”

Neil’s eye flickered up to the man. “Pardon?”

“What,” he said, “is taking so long?” He spoke slowly, like Neil was stupid. “I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes. How long does it take to get a room ready?”

Neil couldn’t hold it in. He’d later tell Wymack that he tried, but first day jitters and all… “Do you want your room to be dirty?” 

The man simply blinked at him. “Pardon?”

“Do you,” Neil repeated slowly, like he was stupid, “want your room to be dirty?” Without an answer, Neil ploughed ahead. “It’s not our problem you arrived twenty minutes before your check in. Sit down and wait a little longer.” 

When the man finally picked up his jaw from the floor, face red and eyes a little bulging, he launched into a tirade. Something about mismanagement, something about a conference, something about the youth. Neil zoned it out, noticing a cherry red surfboard being squeezed into the elevator. 

“Are you even listening to me, kid?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s your manager?” 

“Don’t know. Likely doing something more important.” 

The man had gotten closer in his tirade. A finger wiggled in Neil’s face, close to his scar. And Neil could feign apathy all he liked, but even he couldn’t run from instinct. A middle aged man raising his voice never boded well, especially this close. He flinched, all the nasty words he imagined hauling at him sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

“This is unacceptable!” he shouted, drawing a midday audience. “I won’t be spoken to like this, not with the amount of money I’m paying to be here, you little prick.”

A smooth voice cut through the barbs. “Is there a problem?” 

The man turned, revealing Andrew clad in his all white housekeeping uniform. He was the last person Neil expected to see, the shock of it almost snapping him out of the stillness. Almost. Neil still couldn’t muster a word. He wondered if he could muster his fingers around the man’s throat. 

“Yes, there’s a problem,” he finally removed himself from Neil’s face, turning his attention to Andrew. “Are you the manager?”

“Yes,” Andrew replied.

The man was unconvinced. “Then why are you dressed like that?”

“I was cleaning the room of a highly valued customer. Were you checking out?” 

“Checking in actually,” he pointed a finger at Neil again, who imagined breaking it. “This stupid little-”

“Don’t call him that.”

“You didn’t hear how he was speaking to me,” he was in Andrew’s face now, Neil unsure where the sunburn stopped and the pink rage started. He was close to matching his salmon tie. “Do you know how much I’m paying for a room here, just for three nights?”

“Choose another resort.”

Footsteps bounded across polished floors, cutting the man short of more insults. 

“Hey, hey!” Wymack sidestepped in between them. “What’s the problem here?”

“And who are you meant to be?”

“David Wymack. The manager.”

“He said he was the manager!”

“And you believed him?” Wymack’s eyes widened a little. Neil’s lips quirked at his slip up. “I mean, of course not. There seems to be a major misunderstanding here. How about we sort this out in my office, alright? The champagne is complimentary.”

Wymack guided the irate man away with a smile. The look he sent Andrew spoke more than any words. 

“Choose another resort?” Neil said. “He’s going to leave a bad review.”

“Wymack will butter him up,” Andrew scratched at his collar where the uniform clearly rubbed. “I came down to let you know his room was ready.”

Neil lifted up the phone. “You know how to use one of these?”

“No,” Andrew said. “Welcome to customer service.”

Neil watched him go like he did the previous night, only this time he (somehow) had more questions.

He made it his mission to have them answered on his lunch break. 

Wymack checked in just as he was handing over to Renee for cover. “You alright?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“The suit was a real piece of work. I offered him a free night just so he’d fuck off,” Wymack lowered his voice. “Would’ve preferred to send him packing for speaking to my staff like that, but Whittier frowns upon it.”

Neil looked at him with a blank face.

“Owner of the resort, media conglomerate. Makes everything harder than it needs to be,” Wymack took Neil’s shoulder, who did his best not to shutter. “If any of the patrons get like that, call me immediately. I don’t disagree with anything you said to him, trust me, but we have an image we have to uphold, Neil, alright?”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you can’t find me, find Andrew. He has a way of knocking them down a peg without them even knowing,” Wymack squeezed his shoulder. “Now scram. I need to restock my liquor cabinet.”

Neil wondered how many bottles of alcohol Wymack had offered to patrons to calm them down. He then wondered how often he’d have to restock them during Neil’s summer manning the front desk.

His thoughts were scrambled when he noticed a familiar head of blonde hair. Neil made a beeline for the restaurant, its front door immediately adjacent to Neil’s desk. He had to dodge a few suitcases on the way, waving to an enthusiastic Matt as he helped a couple with their dry cleaning. Caught off Coastal was busy. Neil didn’t care, attention solely on finding Andrew.

He nearly bumped into another server in his laser focus. Katelyn could’ve been her name. She apologised to him for being in the way despite the fact Neil almost bounded her over. He shrugged, attempting a smile as a squealing child threw fries at his feet. He thought if Wymack ever stationed him here he’d personally ask a shark to rip him in two.

Finally Neil found Andrew in the corner, cleaning a table.

Neil waited a beat before asking, “What was that?”

Andrew scowled at him. “What?”

“This morning,” Neil pointed at the reception desk. “Why’d you do that?”

“I don’t fucking need this today,” Andrew stacked more plates onto the tray, the glasses clinking precariously. “I don’t know who you are. Tip me or go away.” 

Neil didn’t understand. “It’s Neil.”

“And that’s supposed to mean something to me?” Andrew shouldered past him. Glasses clinked and cutlery swayed. Neil wished they would fall. “I’m working. Leave me alone.” 

“Why are you working here?”

“Because I’m employed here, genius.”

“You’re housekeeping and serving?” Neil frowned. “What did you do to Wymack to deserve that?”

At that, Andrew stopped. He turned slowly, that infuriating look still on his face. “You’re stupid.”

Neil grit his teeth. “If I get called stupid one more time today-”

“No, you’re really stupid. Go away.”

Andrew disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Neil to simmer. 

He’d been trying to quit, but Neil needed a cigarette. 

After grabbing a half eaten sandwich from a discarded plate - having to hold it in his mouth as he manoeuvred his crutches - Neil ventured down the hall and out the back door. He took a bite, frowning at the ham but eating it anyway. It was a habit that was hard to shake, taking when he could just ask, but he couldn’t change overnight. Neil didn’t know if he wanted to. 

His frown only deepened when he realised he wasn’t alone. 

Andrew sat on a crate, back in his white uniform with a half smoked cigarette in his hand.

Neil was losing his mind. “What are you doing here?”

Andrew simply waved the cigarette in his hand, like it answered Neil’s question.

“I just saw you in the kitchen.”

Andrew held his gaze for a while, like he was waiting for something to click. Neil thought of the morning that was. Andrew’s change of attitude. Andrew’s change of uniform. Andrew’s change of just about everything that Neil had come to know about him in the short time they knew each other. He was missing something major. 

When it did click, Neil groaned, utterly pained. “Twin.”

“Aaron.”

“He’s a dick.”

Andrew held up his lighter for Neil, who simply bent down to light the cigarette already in his mouth. Andrew’s eyes were dark for a moment. It had to be a cloud passing by, as when Neil looked at him next they were clear. 

“I hear it runs in the family.”

“Nicky is fine.”

“Nicky is loud.”

“Not a dick, though,” Neil started to pace, his crutches stilting the movement. “Now he’s going to think I’m an idiot.”

“I thought you were,” Andrew said.

“You literally called out the guy that called me stupid this morning, and now you’re calling me an idiot,” Neil took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke out of his nose like an angry dragon. “Do I have a sign on my head that says belittle me?” 

“Would you like one?”

“Dick,” Neil scuffed his shoe on the crate beside Andrew, adding yet another mark against the worn fabric.

Andrew regarded them with an eyebrow raise. “You need a new pair of shoes.”

“They’re fine.”

“They’re falling apart.”

Neil didn’t think so. The laces were matted, there was a small hole in the seam and sometimes when it rained his socks got wet. But they were intact, they got him from one place to another. They were fine. “I don’t really have the money. My first pay check won’t be for another fortnight, and even if I needed a pair I’d only be using one…” Neil gestured to his ankle. “It’s fine.”

“Five star resort,” Andrew lit another cigarette, holding eye contact with Neil as he did. His eyes never left his, and it started to make the back of Neil’s neck itch. “Keeping up appearances.”

“You can’t talk,” Neil said. “Look at you.”

“What about me?”

Andrew had an eyebrow piercing, holes in his ears and a tattoo of a smoking skeleton on his forearm. Neil had no idea why the hell Wymack hired him. Neil had no idea how the hell Wymack hired him. Neil had been near enough coastal resorts and hotels to know the clientele, and for Wymack to be so set on employees that were seemingly so rough around the edges…

Neil didn’t understand. 

“Why do you think I’m up in housecleaning and you’re out the front,” Andrew stubbed out his cigarette. He wasn’t even close to finishing it. “Boyd too. People like to look at attractive things.”

Neil’s palms felt hot. “I was hired because I’m capable.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Andrew stopped in front of him, and Neil felt the ghost of hands on biceps. “You have a listening problem.”

“I have a lot of problems.”

“Am I one of them?”

Neil’s eyes danced from Andrew’s left eye to his right. One was darker hazel than the other, only just. “I don’t know yet.”

“Let me know when you make up your mind,” Andrew slipped the lighter into Neil’s pocket. “Also let me know when you give up surfing. The wounded baby bird look you gave Kevin through the window this morning was nauseating.”

“Fuck you,” Neil breathed only after Andrew was gone.

His questions might have been answered, but it opened a floodgate of something more.

Neil ran a frustrated hand through his hair, finished his cigarette and headed back to reception. 

Neil woke Wednesday morning to a new pair of shoes outside his door. 

Friday was so busy Neil was forced to have lunch at three. 

His face was sore from the pleasantries, mouth dry from all the speaking. Neil barely took the time to breathe as he swallowed the basket of fries Allison threw at him, nearly mistaking his cigarette for a fry. He only had a few hours to go before the weekend, and he would happily force the politeness if it meant he could make his way to the water a little faster.

He powered through until six, his headache gone the second he walked out into the warm, salty air. His boot thudded against the wooden walkway, his armpits sweaty from the crutches and the heat. Neil didn’t care. He sat by the water and rested his tired body, imagining the sand cocooning him in a safe bubble.

Neil stayed on the beach long after the sunset. 

He sat with his thoughts, thinking of the week that was and all that transpired. The people he’d met, the friendships he thought he was forging. Earning respect from an authority figure who didn’t seem three seconds from caving in his skull or screaming in his face. It was bizarre, Neil surely having slipped and fallen into a second world. 

The third mosquito bite of the night had Neil moving. He struggled through the sand, spotted a cluster of smooth rocks and headed in that direction. It would be easier climbing up them with his crutches compared to the soft sand dunes. Neil hadn’t wandered this far down the beach. He was unfamiliar with the landscape and didn’t want to learn a hard lesson in the dark. 

Neil’s arms ached by the time he reached the top of the rocks. He stopped to collect himself for a moment, cursing his ankle and any God that would bother to listen. 

“God can’t hear you.”

Neil spun around and held up his crutch like it was a gun.

Andrew reclined against a dilapidated shack, faded red with rusty hinges and rotted stilts. It had seen better days and Neil, not remembering the last time he got his tetanus shot, eyed it warily.

“You hang out here for fun?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m having fun.”

Neil blinked away a drop of sweat that landed in his eye. “I need to sit down for a second.”

“Do what you want,” Andrew kicked himself off the wall and disappeared into the shack. 

Old stairs creaked with Neil’s weight. The interior was slightly less unkempt than the exterior, with empty shelves and an old lifebuoy on the wall. There were rugs on the floor, mismatched but new, looking curiously similar to the rugs he’d seen in Nicky’s rooms. Pillows were strewn on the floor and a speaker sat in the corner beside a crumpled surf poster.

Neil flattened it with his crutch. “Did you do that?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I want to know things.”

“Sometimes it’s better if you don’t.”

“Like how sometimes it’s better not to ask how new shoes end up outside your door?”

Andrew fiddled with rolling paper. He gave nothing away, simply licking the paper after filling it and ignoring Neil’s very existence. Neil almost offered him the lighter he’d gifted when Andrew pulled another one out of his pocket. Neil was starting to understand when he wouldn’t be getting answers out of Andrew, and tonight was no different.

“This shack could easily be a mortuary.”

“Lifeguards used it for storage in the sixties.”

“And what do you use it for?”

“To get high.”

Andrew offered him a lit joint. Neil shook his head. “I don’t do drugs anymore.”

“Anymore.” It wasn’t spoken like a question, but Neil knew it was.

“I used to, now I don’t,” Neil snapped. “That’s usually what that means.”

“Settle down,” Andrew held the joint by his thigh, like it wasn’t inches from the wooden wall. “I don’t care.”

Neil looked at his shoes and found that hard to believe. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Andrew took a drag with a scrunched up nose. “What are we, twelve?”

“You distract that asshole with the crappy tie, then call me an idiot. I barely see you until you’re everywhere. You invite me into your hotbox and then act like an asshole.”

“And that bothers you.”

Neil abandoned his crutches and slid down the wall, using a pillow to prop up his ankle. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much,” Andrew said, “which is why you’re always asking questions. Mystery solved, Daphne.”

“Daphne?”

“Redhead.”

“I know I am.”

Andrew looked toward the ceiling and took another drag. 

“Nicotine and weed,” Neil huffed. “Trying to see what kills you first?”

“I’m betting on one of the giant windows in the foyer to fall on me. At least Aaron and Nicky would get a few million out of it,” Andrew sat down opposite Neil and blew smoke at him. “Could buy a lot of shoes with that kind of money.”

“Could buy a new ankle.”

Andrew nodded. “You could.”

They sat in silence for a while, the light patter of rain on the dirty circular window distracting. 

“You don’t look like you grew up in California.”

“The pale skin gave it away.”

“Could’ve,” Neil said. “The disinterest does most of the heavy lifting.”

“Never lived in California until I got this job,” Andrew revealed. “Did spent time in juvie here.”

It was the most unsurprising revelation of Neil’s week. “What for?”

“Arson.”

“Bullshit.” 

Andrew levelled his gaze. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I just find arson hard to believe,” Neil said. “A mister meaner? Sure. Battery? Likely. Arson? No, it’s not you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” 

Andrew took another long drag. “What are you running from?”

Neil pulled his knee to his chest. “Who says I’m running?”

Andrew’s eyes flickered to the boot. “You tell me the truth and I’ll tell you why I went to juvie.”

“How will I know it’s not a lie?”

“How will I know you’re not lying?”

And there it was, the simple, subtle trust Andrew was giving. It wasn’t much, it could’ve been a snare for all Neil knew, a shark net to tangle him and pull him out to sea to drown and bloat. Neil, having been trapped more times in his life than he could count, knew when to spot them. This wasn’t a snare, this was an offer, fair and true. 

“My parents were shit. My mother used her words, my father his fists,” Neil itched at the scar on his lip. “I’d saved and stolen enough money by the time I was eighteen to get the fuck out of Baltimore. From there it was just buses, hostels, couches in empty houses that I ran out of before dawn. Some nights I settled for park benches or concrete.”

“I’m guessing your resume had a fake address.”

“Real, just not mine. My uncle owed me one.”

His uncle also provided him with documentation that legitimised the illegitimate Neil Josten, but Andrew didn’t need to know that. Not yet, at least. 

Andrew’s eyes sparked like lightning off the coastline. 

“I was paid cash in hand to work all kinds of jobs to get by. Bus boy, delivery boy, drug runner in South Carolina. That was a bad idea,” Neil laughed and scratched his nose, remembering the punch that broke it. “I stayed by the ocean as much as I could, but it’s more expensive on the waterfront, you know? It wasn’t sustainable. Before I came here I was in Arizona, that’s where I broke my ankle.”

“How?”

“I’ve said enough,” Neil extended his leg, kicking the packet of candy by Andrew’s thigh. “Your turn.”

“I hit my foster father with a car.”

Neil laughed. He didn’t mean to. It forced its way out of him, the absurdity of it. “Did he die?”

“Should have,” Andrew said. “But I didn’t have to go back to that house.”

There was no elaboration. Neil didn’t ask for one. 

Neil, having imagined murdering his father a few times, hummed. “You could’ve hit him harder.”

“I couldn’t drive stick,” Andrew’s lip managed a quirk, there and gone. “I can now.”

“So I better watch out, huh?”

“I’d find a more elaborate way to kill you.”

“You’d kill the kid in crutches? Brutal.”

“I’d wait until you’re out of them.”

“Save the judgement. Smart.” 

Andrew unwrapped a bright pink candy and popped it in his mouth.

Neil’s stomach made a noise.

Andrew threw the wrapper on the ground. “Have you eaten?”

“It wasn’t important.”

“It’s nearly nine.”

“Oh.”

Andrew stood. He grabbed Neil’s crutches and offered them to him. “I’m driving home.”

He didn’t say I’ll drive you, he simply stated where he was going and Neil had to choose if he followed. Neil, who hadn’t once considered how he’d get back to the share house, didn’t really have a choice in the matter. It was an easy walk, an even easier run. Neil couldn’t wait to get back on the water, but he thought maybe the first run after his injury would be just as sweet.

The parking lot was a short walk, mostly empty save the one Andrew stopped beside.

Neil refused to get in the car. “You stole this.”

It was a sleek black maserati, looking more fit for Palmetto’s patrons than its workers.

“I brought it.”

“With what money?”

“Aaron’s mother died. I needed a car,” Andrew opened the back door and threw Neil’s crutches inside without any regard for the interior. “Get in or walk.”

It was a peculiar choice of words.

“If we do get pulled over by the cops, tell them you kidnapped me.”

“You could’ve just said you have a warrant.”

Neil didn’t know for certain, but stranger things were possible. 

Sitting in Andrew’s passenger seat felt like being on a board during a rough swell. He took every corner with speed, not slowing down for orange lights and tailgating each car they crossed in their short drive. Neil’s head was spinning by the time Andrew pulled up to the house. He helped Neil with his crutches and got back in the car.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t park it here.”

He didn’t elaborate. Andrew simply reversed and sped down the road.

Neil made his way inside in a daze. He tried to be quiet, noting the time, but he could only be so quiet with his crutches and his boot. He absently prepared something to eat, too focused on replaying his conversation with Andrew over and over. He’d never done the same with any of the others in the house, and he didn’t know what made Andrew so different. 

The toast was cold by the time Neil noticed the toaster popped.

“Why don’t you get in the pool, Neil?”

Neil pointed at his boot.

Allison's sunglasses fell down her nose. “Boring.”

“Give him a break, Allison,” Dan waded over to them, her red swimsuit popping against her dark skin. Matt wasn’t too far behind, zinc smeared across his nose. “Maybe he’s scared you’d drown him.”

“That’s what Nicky is here for,” she grinned like a Cheshire cat at Nicky, on duty and miserable as they swam together on a lazy afternoon. “Besides, the boot would keep him afloat.”

“I’m alright,” Neil kept one foot in the water and his boot rested on the side with a towel covering. 

He could get it a little wet, but that was an easier excuse than explaining that he didn’t like to be shirtless, lest anyone ask too many questions. There were enough scars to raise suspicion, Neil knowing the details of each and every one, and he didn’t feel like making anyone cry.

It was his day off. He had all of Monday to do that.

“Neil’s more into salt water, right bud?” Matt grabbed a beer from the back of a floating peacock, the floaty ridiculous but perfectly in place. “But the beach doesn’t have a poolside bar.”

“We could always take the drinks to the beach?” Dan offered.

“Too far, too much effort,” Matt chugged his beer and floated on his back. “I’m here to relax.”

“Because those suitcases must be so heavy, Matthew,” Allison pouted. She splashed him, his shriek high and Dan’s laughter higher. “Try and spend five seconds in that fucking restaurant, you’d throw yourself into a yucca.”

“I’ve told Wymack we need another surf instructor,” Dan said, and Neil’s interest piqued. 

“I model wetsuits,” Allison took a sip of her mojito, “I don’t use them. Remember that girl that wiped out last season? Her face was mangled. I need my teeth, thank you.”

“And they’re great teeth,” Dan smiled. “You can keep using them to bite off heads at Coastal.”

“Ugh,” Allison pulled herself up and rested her elbows on the side of the pool. She wiped her finger on Neil’s towel and reached into her glass for a lime. She sucked the juice out of it and flipped Dan off. “I’d rather do housekeeping than teach tourists to surf, but then I'd be stuck with Andrew.”

Neil spoke before he could stop himself. “He’s not that bad.”

Allison's wet hair almost knocked over her drink with how quickly she turned to him. “He’s rude.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I have charm and I’m beautiful,” Allison tutted. “Minyard is just rude. So is his twin. What’s his name again?”

Dan laughed. “You know his name.”

“I don’t think I do,” she hummed. “But seriously, Neil. No.”

Neil held his tongue, lest he say anything he regretted.

The day moved on, and the night led Neil where it often did.

He brought a towel with him to sit on. If Neil had to clean sand from his boot one more time he would be driven to insanity. Neil rested his chin on his knee as he watched a bunch of surfers under the moonlight, their laughter soaring over the waves. Neil itched to join them. He itched the sand irritating his calf. 

As Neil mulled over how to bring up the surf instructor job to Wymack, a presence loomed by his side. 

“Sitting alone in the dark like this is going to get you abducted.”

Neil’s gaze didn’t leave the water. “Aliens or humans?”

“If we’re lucky, aliens,” Andrew’s shoes flicked up more sand. “No chance I’d have to see you again.”

“You’re insulting me. I was the one minding my own business here,” Neil said, “not you.”

“You’re in my way.”

“You sound like Moreau.”

“Kill me,” Andrew crunched the lollipop in his mouth. “Are you better than him?”

Neil finally turned to Andrew. “What?”

“Surfing,” Andrew sounded exasperated and he looked it too. “Are you better than him?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Neil wiggled his boot. “I’m rusty.”

“Wouldn’t be hard.”

“What would you know?”

“According to the Queen,” Andrew shrugged, “nothing.”

“Kevin.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Whatever,” Neil’s head started to spin. He looked behind his shoulder at the red shack. “You going to smoke?”

“Shift ended up being eleven hours,” Andrew said, lighter already in hand. “There’s an engagement party at the pool, Wymack needed help. Roland and Nicky are still going.”

It was almost ten. “You just got off?”

Andrew’s lip quirked, there and gone. 

Neil wiggled his fingers. Andrew dropped a cigarette on the sand.

“Hilarious,” Neil wiped it clean and popped it in his mouth. He angled his chin so Andrew could light it. He took a long puff, the smell soothing, the heat prickling. “Sit down.”

“Am I making you nervous?”

Neil ignored that. “You’re hovering. It’s annoying.”

“That’s your job.”

Neil swiped at Andrew with his crutch. It was an easy dodge, and Andrew took a seat beside Neil, notably off the towel, sand be damned.

They watched the surf together, smoking in silence. Neil couldn’t do this with the others. There was always something to say, something to shout, something to laugh about. By the end of the day Neil couldn’t handle it, and Andrew seemed to respect that need, or at least understand it. How Andrew could stomach watching the surfers was beyond him, but Neil figured he was zoning it out. 

Andrew wasn’t.

“Watching them won’t make your ankle heal any faster.”

“I like it.”

“Would having a board get that look off your face?”

“I’ve never owned one,” Neil admitted.

Andrew gave him a look. 

“I never owned one,” Neil repeated. “I always found them.”

“Stole them.”

“Pearl clutcher,” Neil’s grin was vicious. “I borrowed them. I always put them back where I found them. Not my fault the surfers got wasted and left them lying around their porches. It was always late, I never got caught.”

“Take one of Dan’s each day, see if she notices.”

“My crutches would leave a trail in the sand.”

Andrew chewed on the end of his cigarette. “I’d cover them.”

Neil blinked. “Why?”

“You’d lead her here.”

Neil never said he’d take them to Andrew’s shack. “Wouldn’t want that.”

“No,” Andrew said, “we wouldn’t.”

Andrew handed Neil another cigarette in silence. 

A tequila sunrise undid Neil’s Tuesday morning. 

He was on his way back from his break when he slipped. It wouldn’t have killed the patron to let him know she’d spilled half of her drink, already buzzed before midday, but she was already halfway to the pool, unaware of Neil behind her. He lost his left crutch first, then his balance, Neil falling hard on his ass and twisting his boot in the process.

Neil didn’t hear a pop, but he imagined one anyway.

Renee was by his side before his head stopped spinning. “Do you need help getting up?” she asked, not laying a hand on him.

Neil waved her off, his chest tight. “Give me a second.”

He closed his eyes, the dread of when he injured his ankle hitting him with startling clarity. All he’d done for three years was move. He ran from his home, his parents, from trouble. From himself. Suddenly not being able to do that anymore, on top of not being able to do the single thing that kept him sane… it flooded back and he hated the feeling so much Neil nearly made his palms bleed, nails digging deep.

Renee was still there when he opened his eyes. “Neil-”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

And that voice was Andrew’s.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, hovering above Neil and blocking out the light from the chandelier above. He held out a hand, his silver rings dimmed by the low light. Neil sighed and took his hand, eyes widening at the ease in which Andrew pulled him to his feet. He was careful of Neil’s ankle, Renee immediately by their side with his crutches. 

“Don’t worry about the front desk,” she said. “I’ll handle it.”

Andrew started to lead Neil in the direction of Wymack’s office.

“You taking me out the back to finish the job?”

“Abby was a nurse,” Andrew said.

After a slow trek down the hall and past an overwatered plant, Andrew banged on a door marked ‘IT.’ They waited a beat before Abby opened the door, her oh, followed by an even more pressing, ohh. She waved them inside, clearing a portion of her desk and shuffling some seats around so Neil could both sit and rest his ankle on a chair.

“You know we have a room decided to this, Andrew,” Abby said as she tied up her hair, grey strands falling in front of her eyes, “with everything I need in it.”

“Your office is closer,” he stated plainly, eyes having not left Neil.

She huffed, but it sounded half-hearted, like Wymack always did. 

Abby shifted her attention back to Neil. “Can I remove the boot, Neil?”

“Yeah.”

She did, gentler than Neil ever bothered.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little. It’s not bad.”

Abby spent the next five minutes assessing Neil’s ankle for any bruising, swelling or anything else out of the ordinary. She then spent the next ten minutes going through his routine, making sure his stretches and exercises were adequate. Neil hated the attention, his eyes anywhere but Abby’s. Andrew stayed standing by the door, arms crossed, looking like he also wasn’t paying any attention.
Neil knew he listened to every word. 

“From what I can tell it all seems okay,” Abby smiled. “I would recommend some ice, just to be safe, and to call me if anything changes.”

“I can’t really do that at reception.”

“But you can do it at home,” Abby countered. “Go, I’ll chat to David. I doubt Renee will mind covering you for the rest of the afternoon.”

With his protests half-hearted (and not even regarded), Abby dismissed him for the day. It didn’t matter how little his ankle ached, or how easy it would be to man the reception desk for the remainder of his shift; they all insisted he rest. Neil didn’t quite believe it. It brought up old memories of his parents, of rough words and dismissive hands. It brought up recent memories of nobody giving a shit at all. 

Word spread like wildfire through Palmetto, as both Matt and Nicky hovered by reception on Neil’s way out. They immediately crowded him, asking a million and one questions and offering to take him home, to grab some ice, to sue whoever spilt their drink. It was all getting to be too much for Neil, who thought he’d snap at the next person who looked at him like he would break. 

Andrew kept his gaze steady and shoved by them.

Neil was quiet on the drive back to the share house. The drive was short, the sun cutting through the window tint and warming exposed skin. Andrew slowed down as he took the corners. Not completely, but enough for Neil to notice. They sat in the maserati for a long moment, neither the first to move and open the door. 

Neil’s leg started to cramp. He wrestled himself out of the low car, hissing when his boot hit concrete. He powered through, awkward with his crutches until Andrew held them steady. 

“You didn’t have to help me.”

“I didn’t.”

Andrew held out his forearm and helped Neil up the stairs

Neil thought he might’ve understood why Wymack hired Andrew. For his steadiness and grit, the simple loyalty and the ease in which he held himself. Every ship needed an anchor, and Wymack had Andrew.

Andrew left him alone on the porch, Neil left to mull on the day under the heat of the afternoon sun. 

“Neil, oh, lovely Neil,” Nicky sauntered up to the front desk, whistle swinging. His orange shorts were somehow brighter than Neil’s own uniform, his cheery disposition even more so.

Neil pulled a face. “You’re on your break already? Your shift just started.” Neil only knew this because he was forced to; they started at the same time and Nicky spent a whole hour in the bathroom getting ready.

“No, no break. I just needed to talk to you.”

“And the drowning children?”

“A major drag. Look,” Nicky flattened his palms on the desk, wiggling them excitedly. “We’re going out for drinks tonight and you’re coming.”

“I’m guessing I don’t get a say?”

“Not really. But it’ll be fun! It always is, especially when Roland is pouring drinks,” Nicky leaned in, a secret on his tongue. “He’s the bartender at the poolside bar, gorgeous. He also works in the city for this dive bar, Eden’s. He’s into pretty men, which is why we always get free drinks when I come along. If we have one more pretty face-” Nicky didn’t finish his sentence, instead going to squeeze Neil’s cheek.

Neil sidestepped out of the way and held out a warning hand. 

Nicky threw up his hands. “I mean you do have a choice in the matter, but we know you’re not working early tomorrow and Andrew suggested it. What he says goes. Don’t shoot the messenger!”

Neil paused. “Andrew suggested it.”

“Yeah, said something about driving the mas and target practice,” he flapped his hands about. “I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. Think about it. You’re coming-” Nicky started to walk backwards to the pool, “-but think about it. We only want you to be comfortable… we leave at nine.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Nicky winked and sauntered off.

Neil arrived home to a pile of clothes in front of his door.

Black on black, plain but clearly high quality. Andrew’s salary had to be higher than Neil’s. He changed into the clothes, the waste of money irritating him a little. A lot. He fiddled with the high neck of the shirt. It felt like a wetsuit, and given Andrew’s sense of humour it wasn’t a coincidence. Neil threw on his large corduroy jacket, the dark green cutting through the black. He hoped it would swallow him whole.

Matt whistled when he saw him. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s coming with us,” Nicky appeared out of nowhere, dressed the same as Neil but with much more skin showing. The night wasn’t as warm as the previous, but Neil was already regretting his jacket. “Eden’s. You want in?”

“I have to wake up at five tomorrow,” Matt yawned. “No.”

“C’mon, Matty!” Nicky slapped Matt’s bicep and ducked behind Neil. “It’ll be fun. You don’t have to sleep, just power through your shift. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Where’s the man I fell in love with?”

“Remember that favour you owe me from last fourth of July, when I took the fall for microwaving Allison's favourite pair of shoes?”

“I do.”

“I’m not using it, I just want to remind you that I’m holding it over your head and if you piss me off-”

“I’ll be cleaning a toilet or eating worms or whatever,” Nicky waved his hands, “yeah, yeah. We’ll stop annoying you so you can get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, beautiful.”

“Fuck off,” Matt grinned. “You get him home in one piece, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Nicky saluted. He checked his watch and gasped. “We’re late!”

Neil turned to the clock on the wall. It was only quarter to nine. “We still have fifteen minutes.”

“Andrew can’t read analogue! Let’s go, Neil, go!” Nicky could’ve carried Neil out the door with the speed in which he moved.

Andrew was smoking beside the maserati when Neil managed to make it down the stairs. He was calm, entirely not about to leave them behind. He eyed Nicky’s frazzled state with a blank face.

“Are you the one that can’t read analogue?” Neil asked.

Nicky checked his watch again with a laugh. “Maybe.”

It was only then that Neil noticed Kevin, glaring at Andrew’s cigarette like if he focused hard enough it would fly out of his hand. He was entirely out of place, but then again in it, like he was always supposed to be here, like he wouldn’t be found anywhere else. Kevin dressed as if they were going to a magazine spread photoshoot, and he made Aaron look like a toddler. 

Andrew didn’t have that problem. 

“Can we fucking go?” Aaron asked, already halfway into the backseat.

Andrew ignored his brother and eyed Neil through the smoke. “Green.”

“Black doesn’t suit me,” Neil stalked towards the car. “Stop buying me things.”

“Renee told me I needed to do some charity work,” he took one final inhale before he stubbed out his cigarette. “In the middle, Nicky.”

Nicky groaned but did as he was told. It led for an awkward car ride, with Neil trapped at a chattering Nicky’s side and stuck staring at Kevin in the front seat. The bar wasn’t too far from the resort, located on the outskirts of the city. Andrew drove the same as he had the other night, if not more reckless. Neil’s stomach dipped, one bump in particular bringing him back to a night he spent on his board not too long before his accident, the moon shining and the waves violent.

Eden’s was a dive bar hidden between two busy restaurants.

It was crowded inside, its small exterior not doing the interior justice. The room seemed to stretch and stretch, low walls covered in old band posters and candid photos of no one in particular. The group circled a specific table, round and pushed against the far wall, its chair legs uneven. Everything was sticky, the lights were dim. It smelled like booze and sweat and Neil’s nineteenth birthday.

“We’ll have our usual,” Nicky grinned and pushed Neil towards the bar. “Roland will know you, don’t worry.”

Neil rolled his eyes and made his way to the crowded bar, using his size to squeeze between a couple arguing up front. He almost made the mistake of resting his elbows on the wood. Neil waited until one of the bartenders caught his eye, face familiar enough that it had to be Roland, Neil only having seen him in passing once during Wymack’s tour.

“You must be Neil,” Roland chirped over the music. “Nicky wouldn’t shut up about the new redhead.” 

Neil smiled without teeth. “They want their usual.”

“Yeah,” Roland’s earrings jostled when he moved. “And you?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Fair. Lime and soda?”

Neil shrugged.

“Not used to this, huh?” Roland started pouring drinks, attention somehow on Neil, his co-workers and the drinks all in one. His hands moved at double speed, and he seemed to speak as much as Nicky did. Neil reminded himself to never visit the pool. “Unfamiliar territory?”

Neil was more than familiar with bars, the sweat, and the grime, and the stickiness. He didn’t like the familiar memories. “It wouldn’t be my first choice of fun.”

Roland smirked. “There’s plenty of other ways to have fun.”

Neil didn’t have anything to say.

“Not used to flirting either, hermoso?” 

“You’re not flirting with me.”

“You want me to?”

Neil didn’t even know Roland’s full name. “No.”

“That’s cool,” Roland handed Neil the tray of drinks. “I’m more into blondes anyway.”

Roland’s eyes flickered behind Neil. “Tell them I said hey.”

Neil smiled again. It dropped the second he turned around and waded through the crowd, his few months of serving in San Bruno the only reason he made it back to the table without spilling a single drop. The tray barely touched the wood before the group reached for their drinks, zeroing in like hungry seagulls. 

Neil nursed his soda. “Roland says hello.”

Nicky waved at the bar. Aaron dragged his hand back down.

The next hour was excruciating. While the others sat and drank and chatted, Neil sat in silence. His eyes wandered the crowd, he ducked out of a hug from Nicky and chewed on the few ice cubes that survived the humidity in his cup. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or how to sit. Nestled between Andrew and Kevin he felt more out of place than he did in Palmetto’s pristine halls.

It was a startling revelation, even more so after his night in the shack with Andrew and the late nights (and early mornings) he’d spent with everyone in the share house. He didn’t understand what had changed, or why he’d changed. It had to be the night itself, Neil swept from what he’d known into something uncomfortable, where his clothes fitted just too snug and he felt eyes on him from all corners. 

He wasn’t the only one to notice.

“Why bother coming?”

Neil turned to Kevin. “What?”

“You look like you’d rather be drilled,” he said. “Why are you here?”

Neil crunched the last piece of ice between his teeth. “Nothing else to do.”

“Physical therapy,” Kevin said. “Are you seeing a physiotherapist?”

“Are you going to pay for it?”

Kevin’s neck flushed. 

“I have stretches and exercises,” Neil had looked them up online, but they were from reputable sources and local clinics. Abby seemed to think they were fine, and he would stop if it didn’t feel like they were working. Neil’s strength was returning, day by day, and one night wouldn’t change anything. “I’m fine.”

“Show me what you’re doing and I’ll tell you if they’re beneficial,” Kevin took one last sip of his drink. “I’m free tomorrow afternoon. I’ll stop by on your break.”

Neil was a little dizzy. “Why do you care?”

“Andrew said you surfed,” Kevin stated plain and simple. “You need to get back into the water.”

Andrew ignored Neil’s look of frustration. “I really don’t need your help.”

“What time is your break tomorrow?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Then I'll find you.”

Neil dragged his hand down his face. “It’s healing, nothing happened to it on Tuesday and I’m fine. So long as I can see the water I'm okay. And you’re not qualified to tell me what’s right or wrong, so don’t bother.”

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Kevin eyed him with a mixture of disdain and confusion. “Are you a masochist?”

Nicky pinched Neil’s thigh, who cursed. Nicky grinned, unbothered. “No, he’s not.” 

“I don’t understand,” Kevin took another swig of his drink, the condensation on the glass leaving his hand wet and Neil’s eyes followed a singular drop. “You should be getting all the help you can, and looking at the water would make me sick if I wasn’t doing anything about it.”

“Well, call me when you get your degree in physiotherapy,” Neil smiled. “I’d be glad to book in.”

Andrew huffed into his drink beside him.

“I think we’re in need of another round,” Nicky clicked his fingers. “Your turn, Andrew.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t object. 

Neil watched Andrew head to the bar. The crowd cleared for him, and he ploughed through anyone who didn’t. Neil watched Andrew order. Neil watched Roland lean over the bar, lips close to brushing his jaw. Andrew didn’t move into it, but he didn’t push him away either. He noted Roland’s glance back at Neil, and the speed in which Andrew took their drinks after.

“What took so long?” Kevin groaned.

Andrew downed Kevin’s shot just for the question.

They left Eden’s shortly after a fight broke out by the pool table.

After downing the last of their drinks (and Nicky stealing another) they headed for the door. Neil ignored the stickiness on his feet, like the building itself refused to let him leave. He kept his head down and moved, ready to gulp down fresh, warm air. They were halfway out the door when Andrew peered at something behind Neil’s shoulder. 

Neil turned around, only seeing the bar. “Have you forgotten something?”

Andrew was quiet for a moment. “No. Come on.”

Neil spent the following day trying to avoid Kevin Day.

He spotted him through the glass several times, using Matt’s luggage trolley to hide behind more than once. Neil wasn’t below using a plant, but his crutches only allowed so much speed. He didn’t have the time for a lecture, or the capacity. He’d seek out Kevin once he’d healed and was ready to get back on the water, not before. 

A shadow loomed across Neil’s desk and he sighed. “Kevin, I’m busy.”

“You can’t hide from him forever. No one can, not when he’s fixated on you.”

Neil lifted his head, the spreadsheet less important. “I thought you weren’t working.”

“I’m dropping off some empanadas for Aaron,” Nicky’s fingers drummed against the tupperware. “They’re mostly for Katelyn, but Aaron can have a few if he likes. They’re only the trial batch.”

Neil hummed. He continued to type, but Nicky didn’t leave. 

“Thanks for coming last night,” Nicky smiled. It was genuine, less like the usual ones plastered on his face and more lopsided. It crinkled his eyes, softened him more than Neil was used to. “American bars aren’t really all that great compared to the ones in Germany. You haven’t lived if you haven't clubbed in Berlin.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Trust me, you would be. I’d have to take you there some time. I’ve been trying to wrangle the twins for years whenever they visit.”

Nicky explained further at Neil’s blank stare.

“I live in Germany with my fiancé, Erik. I come to the States during summer to see Aaron and Andrew. They’re kind of the only family I have left,” Nicky’s smile grew watery, but like the afternoon tide it was quickly swept away. “Andrew was the one that got us the job. They act like they hate it here, but I think they quietly enjoy it.” 

They watched as Aaron sneered at a table of five, the three small children bouncing off the walls, their sundaes more on their face than the bowl or their bellies. Aaron practically threw the pile of napkins at their parents, their wide eyes and likely subsequent lack of tips not fazing him in the slightest.

Nicky’s eye twitched. “Very quietly.” 

He brightened just as quickly. “Have you ever been to Germany?” 

Neil thought of the language classes his mother had taken him to when he was young, just to get him out of the house and out of her hair when his father was away on his business trips. Learning languages was the only thing besides surfing and running he had a knack for. Neil responded in German, “No. I’ve dabbled in German, but I’m out of practice. I probably sound like a squealing pig.” 

Nicky nearly squealed. “You’re lucky I love bacon.”

Neil waved him off with ringing eardrums. He couldn’t remember ever hearing someone make that kind of noise before, let alone in delight and because of something he said. He had the same feeling when Dan cornered Neil on his break. He wondered what it was about him today that pulled others into his orbit.

“Has anyone told you about Tuesday night?”

Neil waved his cigarette around, a clear no to Andrew but clearly nothing to Dan. “No.”

“Tuesday is our monthly dinner,” Dan explained. “At the end of every month we all make something and share it at the table. Allison's usually on cocktails, Nicky spends hours baking bread or pastries, and Renee always does these cute little desserts. It’s a flavour explosion and the leftovers last forever.”

“I can’t cook.”

“That’s okay. You can always just buy something to bring, God knows I can’t cook. Matt refuses to let me near the barbeque after I nearly burned down the porch.” Dan laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have a few days, so don’t freak out. You could just bring a can of tuna if you want.”

Neil pulled a face. “I’ll think about it.”

“Non-negotiable this one, sorry, Neil,” Dan winked. “Wymack makes sure everyone in the house has a morning shift so we can all eat together. It’s team bonding.”

“It sounds like a hostage situation.”

“You sound like Andrew,” Dan laughed.

Neil didn’t know what to say. He tried to smile, exhausted from all the attention. It probably came out a little crooked, but Dan didn’t seem to mind. She ruffled his hair and left him alone. Neil, having gotten used to Andrew smoking beside him, let the rest of his cigarette burn down to the filter.

Neil caught Andrew and Kevin heading to the water just before sunrise. 

He wondered what it would be like to follow them.

Tuesday came around too quickly, and Neil had nothing prepared.

He finished later than the others, with most of the share house waving goodbye to Neil throughout the afternoon. The sun was its hottest by the time Neil was free, and one second in the heat had him sweating. Neil loitered out the front, the spray of the nearby fountain cool on his skin. He had to figure out how he was getting home. He had to figure out where to get a can of tuna. 

Neil was halfway through a capri-sun when a familiar maserati stopped beside him. 

Andrew idled for a moment before rolling down the window. “Get in.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

Andrew revved the engine. “I’m getting ice cream.”

“For tonight?”

“For 2006,” Andrew deadpanned. 

“In that case…” Neil threw his crutches in the backseat. He ducked his head and got in the front seat, barely having closed the door before Andrew sped off. Neil chewed on his straw, tilting precariously to the side at a roundabout. 

“If you spill that in my car-”

“You’ll drown me?”

“Stab you.”

Neil waved his hands. “Been there. Boring.”

Andrew cast him a sideways look. He didn’t ask.

They stopped at a strip mall, the stores packed tightly together with windchimes, knitted goods and other homemade assortments hanging from shopfronts. It was small and local, and Andrew looked like the grim reaper sweeping across the concrete. Neil followed blindly, not knowing where Andrew was going to find ice cream.

A small café nestled between a bakery and a record store was Neil’s answer.

The door chimed when they entered, the smell of fresh bread wafting over Neil. His mouth watered, and he tried to ignore the fact he’d barely eaten anything since breakfast. Andrew slapped the bell on the counter repeatedly, earning a few glares from other customers. Andrew continued to slap the bell, the onslaught of faraway cursing spurring him on.

Someone eventually rounded the corner. She was a short, stocky woman, her hair grey and swept into a colourful scarf. Her accent was thick, somewhere central European. She scowled at Andrew, her wrinkles deepening just at the sight of him. “You, blondie.”

“Danica,” Andrew responded. “You’re still alive.”

“Ah,” she wiped her hands with the towel hanging over her shoulder. “Hopefully not for much longer. What do you want, your usual?”

“It depends.”

“No. What do you want?” She snapped her fingers. “I’m busy. Don’t play these games. You shit me to death,” Danica pointed at Neil. “Who is this?”

“Neil.”

“I will do no such thing.”

Andrew smirked. “His name is Neil.”

“Neil?” Danica looked him up and down, and Neil found himself standing straighter. He sent Andrew a look of near panic. Where the fuck had he brought him? “Strange boy. What do you want?”

“Uh,” Neil peered into the. He pointed at soft pillows of dough. “These?”

“Pierogi,” she said. “What kind? How many?”

Andrew piped in at Neil’s silence. “Mixed. As many as you can fit.”

She nodded and started loading the styrofoam container, at one point not even looking at the perogies as she swept them into the container. “My vnučka made cocoa and raspberries,” eyes narrowed. “Good enough?”

“I could dabble.”

Danica cursed something vicious under her breath.

When the container was full and a tub of ice cream was recovered from the freezer she slammed them on the counter and scooped them into a plastic bag. Danica and Andrew continued to speak all while Neil watched, the blend of languages not seeming to bother Andrew. Neil wondered if he was fluent, or if he just knew her well enough to be able to understand.

Andrew paid in cash. “I’ll see you next month.”

“In that case,” she said, “I hope I am dead.”

“If only we were so lucky.”

“Jedi govna!”

“Goodbye, Danica.”

Neil sent her a little wave.

Only when the door closed behind them did Neil ask, “What did she say?”

“Something tame compared to her usual.”

“I don’t think she liked me.”

“She liked you,” Andrew nibbled on a cookie Danica had thrown into the bag. “If she curses, she likes you.”

“She cursed you a lot.”

“I tip.”

Air conditioning was a relief. Neil sunk into the leather seats when they finally cooled down, the burn on his thighs now pleasantly cool. He thought he caught Andrew looking at him, but it was hard to tell with his chunky sunglasses. Neil managed to keep the bag safe on his lap despite Andrew’s driving.

“How many languages do you speak?”

Andrew shrugged. “Two and a half.”

“Was that the half?”

“Only the cursing,” Andrew drummed the steering wheel. He turned to Neil then, expectant.

“Four,” Neil answered. “But my French is abysmal, so maybe only three and a half.”

“Kevin can speak French,” Andrew said. “Don’t encourage him.”

Neil’s salute was a half-hearted response. 

“Will you be drinking?” Andrew asked when Neil reached the top of the stairs. “Allison is a free pourer.” 

“Water,” Neil wiped sweat from his temple. He didn’t know how Andrew could stand wearing all black, today of all days. “I thought it was clear I don’t drink.” 

“Because you might say something you shouldn’t.”

“Because I don’t want to,” and Neil had told Andrew about the drug running, but he hadn’t told Andrew about the entire day he lost on LSD and how it scared him half to death that he couldn’t remember a single detail. One and done, Neil wasn’t interested in any of it anymore and hadn’t touched it since. 

“I don’t want to,” he repeated, “that’s all.”

Andrew watched him for a long moment before he nodded and opened the door. If he wanted to ask something, he didn’t, and Neil would wait for it to come up later when they likely (inevitably) ended up back in the shack together. Neil didn’t know what he would say, the truth or only fragments. Neil didn’t know if he’d say anything at all. 

They entered a hive of excitement; Neil handed Dan the container and her eyes sparkled. 

He spent the next fifteen minutes in a maelstrom. 

Neil was handed plate after plate, bowl after bowl, fork after fork. He set the table, poorly, almost spilling a bottle of wine in the process. He dodged a frantic Nicky, also having to duck under the huge tray of glasses Allison was holding, the blonde having spun around to shout something at Dan and nearly killing Neil in the process. It was entirely overwhelming, complete and utter domestic madness.

Neil’s jaw ached with the sweetness.

Andrew sat like a stone, the eye of the storm perched on the bay window. He had the window cracked, his cigarette smoke leaking through. It was the third one Neil had seen him light, the other two having been quietly smothered by someone as they walked past. Neil wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried to steal the packet. Neil wouldn’t be surprised if Andrew had some hidden in his boots. 

Matt was the one to finally say something. “Put it out.”

“No rule on the wall saying I can’t smoke in here.”

“It goes without saying, Minyard,” Matt didn’t look extremely intimidating wearing a polka dot apron and matching oven mitts, but his tone came across just fine. “Put it out or help us, you can only pick one.”

Andrew threw his cigarette out the window. 

The last bowl of food was still spinning on the table by the time everyone was seated. 

It was only a six seater, with Aaron and Renee perched on stools dragged from the island counter. Cramped wasn’t enough to describe it. Neil was squished in between Matt and Nicky, the heat from their bodies and the oven barely contained by the fans scattered around the dining room. It was hardly important, not when plates were passed around and glasses were filled, Neil’s ears ringing with laughter and chatter.

Andrew sat opposite him, plate full of the same empanadas, pierogies, and jerk chicken as Neil’s. Whereas Neil was drinking water, Andrew had a tall glass of whatever highball Allison had concocted. They locked eyes as he took a swig. While everyone else that had taken a sip of their drink pulled a face, Andrew held steady, like he himself only had water. 

Neil downed his own drink in retaliation.

The conversation was an ebb and flow, Neil only joining in sporadically when it had to do with the surf or complaining about a specific patron. Supposedly all of them had an encounter with the same asshole with the hand tattoo that week. Some fleeting, others far too personal. Allison was particularly vocal, muttering something about the register and teeth.

“When he’s checking out, Neil,” Allison pointed at Neil with a perfectly manicured nail, “you hit him with a crutch.”

Neil saluted her, mouth too full to answer. 

“Don’t corrupt him, Allison,” Nicky cooed. “Neil would never do such a thing. You heard the story about the seagull, he’s innocent.”

“I thought it was a duck,” Dan frowned.

Neil couldn’t remember what he told her. “It was a seagull.”

“You sure?”

Neil furrowed his brows and scraped her leg with his boot under the table. “I think I’d remember what did this.”

Dan stuck out her tongue and poured herself another drink. “Neil doesn’t need corrupting, he’s just like the rest of us.”

Allison nodded. “Nasty.”

“I think we could find a better word than nasty,” Renee said with a small smile. 

“Boo,” Allison bellowed. “The nastier the better, right, Minyard?”

It was the first and only time they tried to get Andrew to join the conversation. He didn’t bite.

Matt held up a dumpling with his fork. “Where’d these come from?”

“A frightening Slavic woman,” Neil said. “I think my father’s family is Polish.”

Matt stopped chewing. “You think?”

Neil gnawed the inside of his mouth. “Never asked.”

“Oh,” the past tense threw Matt for a loop. “Did he die?”

And Neil didn’t know why he said it, but his ‘yes’ was so sombre and confident even he believed it for a second. The group fell into hushed silence, with a few of them even offering condolences. Dan loaded extra rice on his plate with a sad look. Andrew rolled his eyes.

“A toast, then?” Allison raised a glass. “To dead fathers.”

Neil held his glass high, wishing Apollo would grant such a gift.

“When was the last time you were on the water, Ally?”

“I told you, it’s not happening.”

Neil listened to the girls bicker as he folded his laundry. 

“C’mon,” Dan insisted from the other room. “It’ll be fun. Seth won’t be there to bother you anymore. Don’t look at me like that, I know what he used to say to you…”

The conversation lulled to near silence and picked right back up again, the seriousness there and gone. The girls were going surfing after their shifts tomorrow, which meant Matt would be going, which meant Neil would have the house almost to himself as they surfed. He threw his work shorts into the basket, his annoyance sudden and childish.

He bumped into Renee as he rounded the corner.

“Would you like to come surfing with us, Neil?” she asked.

Neil blinked owlishly at the invitation. “I can’t surf.”

“We’d enjoy your company nonetheless,” she dropped a leftover pretzel on his pile of clothes with a smile. “Think about it. We’ll be heading out after dinner.”

Neil barely unloaded half of the basket when Andrew appeared in his room.

“We are going out.”

Neil narrowed his eyes.

“Kevin, me,” Andrew stole the pretzel. “You.”

“Why?”

“His mother died.”

Neil made a face. “Fifteen years ago.”

“His mother died fifteen years ago today,” Andrew said. 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Ten minutes,” Andrew left crumbs on his bedroom floor. 

Crickets chirped as Neil made his way down the stairs. Kevin was already in the front seat of the maserati, obstructed by the sun visor. Andrew was halfway through a smoke waiting for Neil. He didn’t say anything, only flicked it onto the concrete and opened the back door for Neil. It was the usual routine: throw the crutches inside and try to sit before Andrew took off down the road. 

Tonight was no different.

The bar was small and beachside, the once yellow painted wood stained and faded from salt. It was world’s away from Eden’s, quiet and homely and more fitting for Kevin’s sullen mood. He followed the pair inside. It was as expected, with surfing memorabilia covering every surface. There were black and white photos in frames, rusted street signs and old trophies, the back wall holding a board with a suspicious chunk taken out of the side. 

Andrew ordered a small bottle of vodka for the table. He nursed a whiskey and Neil had his lime and soda, more sweet than tart but he drank it anyway. He finished it quicker than he’d like, but the silence was drowning and awkward and Neil didn’t know what else to do with his hands. It was like Eden’s, but different, the bar quieter with a faint murmur of voices and the scratchy jukebox humming in the corner. 

Neil was itchy, and they’d only been there half an hour. “I think I’ll go.”

Andrew hooked his foot around the legs of Neil’s chair, a clear ‘stay’ if Neil had ever heard one.

“You know my mother invented the Day-Kick,” Kevin sighed into his glass, “and I’ve never been able to perfect it. I can never get the flip right or turn at just the right time… it’s not the same.”

Neil realised why he was in there; Andrew needed a sounding board for Kevin’s surf related moping. Andrew clocked when Neil noticed, and he had the gall to wink. Neil glared at him.

“Try harder,” Neil knew exactly what Kevin was talking about, the legend having been passed down generations. It was a ridiculous move, a combination of pivots, kicks, and aerials. It was reckless, entirely stupid, and Kayleigh was the only known surfer to have pulled it off. “Maybe she made the manoeuvre that difficult because she didn’t want anyone to steal it.”

“But I’m her son.”

“Then you’re the only one that can figure it out.”

Kevin frowned. “But I haven’t.”

Neil tried not to sigh. “Yet.”

Kevin sat in contemplative silence for a moment, lost in the bottom of his glass. He only spoke again when Andrew made for the bar for more whiskey and soda. 

“What if I don’t figure it out?”

“Would she mind?”

“No, I don’t think so. But everyone else-” Kevin cut himself off with a shrug. “The media, the public, they hound me about it. And I get it, I need to live up to her legacy and surfing is all I’ve ever known, but she was larger than life and I’m not.”

Neil disagreed, but Kevin didn’t need to know that. 

“What about your family?”

Neil shook his head. “No. What about yours?”

Kevin recovered quickly enough, too tipsy to care how short Neil had been.

“I lived in Ireland until I was four, but we were barely there. My mother was always on the island trying to catch the next big wave,” Kevin’s eyes shone a little. “Weird to think it was a car that killed her and not a ten foot swell. I think she would’ve been a little disappointed.” 

Most people would’ve taken the time to give condolences. Neil just sat and listened, knowing neither of them would want that. 

“I lived in Upolu with Wymack after she died, that’s where they met,” Kevin toyed with the collar of his shirt, right where a tattoo was peeking out from under the fabric. “Dublin was nice, but Upolu…” Kevin groaned. He fell back against the booth with a pout. “I want to go back.” 

“Buy a plane ticket and stop complaining,” Andrew set down their drinks, Neil’s soda precariously close to spilling. “I’m sure the fanatic would come with you.” 

It took a second for Neil to realise he was the fanatic. “I’ve never been to Samoa.” 

“Imagine green,” Kevin took a shot, “now imagine greener.” 

“Ireland is green.”

“It’s a different green, and the water is a blue you’ve never seen before,” Kevin covered his face with his hands. He groaned. “And the papaya… the papaya here is shit.”

“I believe you,” Neil said. “We could surf there sometime.” He now had two countries on his list to visit. Neil knew he’d never see Germany or Samoa, but it was a harmless fantasy, and so long as he was out of Maryland he didn’t care where he was. 

Kevin was abruptly wide awake. 

“I found videos of you on the rookie circuit,” Kevin had a gleam in his eye he only had when he was talking about the sport. The enthusiasm thrummed in Neil’s own blood, his ankle aching with it. As vexing as he tended to be, Neil couldn’t deny how exhilarating it was to know Kevin Day remembered him. “It was years ago, the videos were grainy and patchy but I spotted your hair. You have potential.” 

The brief dread of Kevin remembering his real name was fleeting, as Kevin never called him Nathaniel. He only knew his face, not his name, and that was enough for Neil. 

“Had,” Neil was under no assumption he was anywhere near the skill level he was when he was a teenager, let alone now with time lost and an injury to get over.

“Have,” Kevin corrected. “Especially when I’m done with you.”

“Careful Kevin,” Andrew took a swig of his drink, his own spark of something in his eye. “You’ll give him the wrong impression.”

Kevin’s cheeks flushed. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“If you pay for the ticket,” Neil said, ignoring them both, “I’ll go.”

Kevin and Neil spent the next hour talking about the current pros, northern beaches compared to the south and the championships, all while Andrew sat bored out of his mind. Neil learned Kevin was resting after travelling the international circuit. He wasn’t bothering with his usual competitions in the States, which was confusing to Neil. It could’ve had something to do with Riko Moriyama and their rivalry, but Kevin didn’t go into detail.

They only left the bar when Kevin finished his bottle. 

Andrew helped a little, but it was mostly Kevin’s heavy lifting. Neil didn’t know whether to be impressed or to call Wymack. Andrew didn’t seem concerned, so Neil wasn’t. The two of them lingered out the front as Andrew covered their bill. Kevin rolled across the wall, the chipping yellow paint dusting onto his polo. He laid there miserably, cheek squished against the surface. 

“I don’t know who I am,” he bemoaned.

Neil didn’t know how to tell Kevin he didn’t care. He might’ve wanted to, he could’ve if it wasn’t so late and he wasn’t so tired. Neil thought he might’ve been better at being a social creature the more time he spent with the group.

Tonight wasn’t the night. “Okay.” 

“Neil,” Kevin whined. “You don’t get it, neither does Andrew. You both know who you are.” 

Neil’s eyes bulged. “I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do,” Kevin insisted. “You’re a real person. You know you. I don’t. I don’t know anything. I’m just a piece of seaweed… floating. Rotting.” 

“You’re 22-years-old.” 

“Fucking old,” Kevin hiccupped. “I should retire.”

Neil rolled his eyes so hard he gave himself a headache. “You’re fine, Kevin. You’re dramatic. Be quiet.”

Kevin made his way closer to Neil. He pushed himself off the wall and hovered above Neil, eyes flickering as manic as the broken, shuttering lantern under their porch. Kevin leaned down, and it took a second too long for Neil to realise what was happening. He didn’t know for sure, not until Kevin’s mouth was on his. 

Neil stood there, neither warm nor cold, neither angry nor enamoured. If anything he was confused. Neil was confused by Kevin’s gentleness, of the languid rhythm of his lips. Neil was confused by the weight of another body on him, by the realisation that he was completely and utterly unaffected by this. 

He’d heard the others rave about Kevin’s looks. He’d heard the others rave about this, of kisses and company and warmth. Neil didn’t understand it then, and he certainly didn’t understand it now. From what he knew, he should be feeling something, but Neil wasn’t feeling anything much at all. 

Lip balm was Neil’s only thought. My lips are dry and Kevin’s are not. 

Kevin was there, until he wasn’t. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his mouth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have. I can’t, not with you. He would-” Kevin clamped a hand over his mouth, reddened eyes landing on an approaching figure. 

Andrew kicked rocks at them when he planted his feet. “Don’t vomit on Neil.”

Kevin shook his head. Neil stared in bewilderment. 

Neither Kevin or Neil mentioned the kiss on the drive back. Neil doubted they’d mention it ever again. Andrew didn’t bring up the shift between them, and he had to have noticed it because he never missed a thing. He only spoke when they were a few minutes from the share house, Andrew dropping Neil off first before he took Kevin back to the resort. 

“What are you going to do with Moreau and Muldani gone?”

Neil perked up at Andrew’s question. He didn’t realise they were gone, not that he cared enough to keep tabs on them.

“I still have Jeremy.”

Andrew huffed. “I’m sure you’re thrilled.”

“There’s worse company,” Kevin’s eyes were far away in the mirror for a moment. He dropped back into himself suddenly, like he’d managed to drag himself out of a riptide and breached the surface for air. “He’s easy to talk to.”

Kevin rested his cheek on the window, his breath fogging up the glass. He drew a shaky four leaf clover and Neil thought of his own mother.

He stopped thinking about her just as quickly.

Neil sat on the beach as Matt tumbled into the surf. 

A howl of laughter burst from the group, Allison especially vocal where she perched on her board, her bright pink bikini awful to try to look at under the hot sun. Matt eventually surfaced, too far from the shore for Neil to see his face but his thumbs up was clear. Dan helped him back onto his board, both kissing him on the head and slapping him on his shoulder. 

Neil hated not being out there with them, so much so that he felt sick to his stomach. 

“Watermelon, Neil?” Renee offered him a triangle shaped piece.

Neil bit into the slice viciously. 

Kevin and Jeremy Knox were further out than Allison, Dan or Matt. 

While the trio were mostly joking about, with Dan leading the others like she would one of her classes, Kevin and Jeremy were taking the waves more seriously. To an onlooker it wouldn’t appear so. They chose less waves and hung back more than they moved, but the waves they chose were precise, as were their movements, eyes sharp and carves sharper. Neil was transfixed as they glided through the water, cutting through clean like lava through rock. 

Neil threw the watermelon rind at his boot. 

With every tailslide and wipe-out, Neil imagined himself out there with them. He imagined the salt in his hair, the ache in his calves and the breaths bursting out of him. He imagined the peacefulness of it, the exhilaration. The silence under the water. Neil only had a few weeks to go, but it was surely a millennia. 

A board was shoved in the sand beside him.

Jeremy shook his head like a dog. “Neil, right?”

Neil blinked languidly at Jeremy in lieu of anything polite.

Jeremy’s smile was charmingly nonchalant. “Kevin’s spoken about you. When you get that boot off we could go out on the water. Maybe then he could finally manage to get Andrew out there with him.”

Neil frowned. “They surf together every morning.”

Jeremy laughed. “Andrew? No. He just sits on the sand and smokes. He only watches,” Jeremy peered down at Neil, sitting next to a cigarette box. “Oh,” he said, and Neil didn’t understand what he found so interesting. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you.”

“We’ve met.”

“We have?”

“It was my second day. Jean was a prick.”

Jeremy’s eyes sparked. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“I really don’t care.”

“Right,” Jeremy’s grin turned a little more sly. “When you see him next, tell Andrew I said hello.”

“And if I don’t see him?”

“You will,” Jeremy plucked his board from the sand, spraying grains across Neil’s towel. “Kevin has been spending more time with me, which means he’s spending less time with Andrew. Which means he’s with someone, and context clues point to you.”

“I’m not that important.”

Jeremy continued to smile. Neil didn’t know what was wrong with him. “Someone seems to think you are.”

Kevin’s departure from the water thankfully drew Jeremy away from Neil, who had enough to ruminate on from a five minute conversation to last hours. 

It stayed with him well into the night. Andrew drove Neil to the shack after their shifts both finished at seven. No words were exchanged between them, and scarcely a glance. They ate dinner together, a fruit salad for Neil and a hamburger for Andrew, courtesy of Aaron who practically threw it in their direction when Andrew snapped his fingers. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Andrew licked salt from his fingers. “Is it important?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then don’t bother.”

Neil inhaled sharply.

“You wake up early for Kevin, only to sit on the beach.”

Andrew stopped rolling his joint. “That is not a question.”

“Why bother doing all that for him?”

“He asked.”

Neil scraped his boot on the floor. “You don’t even like him.”

“I tolerate him,” Andrew said. “We have a mutual agreement.”

“Bullshit.”

“Where do you think I get this from?” Andrew gestured to the weed.

Neil’s mouth fell open. He caught himself before Andrew said something. “You’re kidding.”

“He has connections. The others don’t bother to talk to him, so they get theirs from crap dealers,” Andrew laughed, though it was more of a puff of air out of his nose. “He’s been to every beach in the fucking world, from Bells to Teahupo'o. He knows every name of every surfer that’s ever touched the water and everyone knows him. They respect him, so he only ever gets the good stuff. He doesn’t even have to ask for it.”

“There has to be more to it.”

“There isn’t,” Andrew sealed the joint with his tongue. “He doesn’t like it so he gives it to me. In return, I sit on the beach as he runs himself ragged on the water.”

Neil didn’t believe him. He’d seen how Kevin loitered around Andrew, how they always sat side by side, how Andrew seemed to always stay only two feet away. Neil remembered Kevin’s babbling after he kissed him. I can’t, not with you. He was talking about Andrew, Neil just didn’t know why. He thought he understood now, the rumours and bets surrounding Kevin’s lovelife laughable.

Neil realised the others were very, very wrong. 

“How long have you and Kevin been together?” 

Andrew paused. He blinked excruciatingly slowly at Neil and asked, “What?” 

“Do you have sand in your ear?” 

“Do you have sand in your brain?”

“You are impossible to talk to sometimes,” Neil leaned back against the shack wall, cobwebs be damned. It left a gaping divide between them. “How long have you and Kevin been together?”

“Together.”

“Yes.”

“Dating.”

“Yes.”

“An item.”

“Andrew.” 

Andrew lit the joint and took a drag, just as slow as his blink. Smoke pooled from his nose. He considered another drag before deciding to hold the joint between his lips. Andrew pushed himself off the wall, using his knees to close the distance between them. Smoke invaded Neil’s space, as did Andrew’s cologne. It smelled like tangerines, and his thigh was warm on Neil’s.

“I fucked Kevin once. Last summer, because I was bored and he was lonely,” the joint lolled out of Andrew’s mouth. It took all of Neil’s willpower to keep himself from staring at Andrew’s lips. “It was adequate. I have not fucked him since, nor do I want to. I am busy looking at other shiny things.”

In a bout of what could only be insanity, Neil leaned forward and plucked the joint from Andrew’s teeth. He took a drag, nice and slow. Andrew’s eye contact was dizzying, soon to be swallowed by the haze. By the time it cleared, Andrew was back against the wall and Neil’s thigh was cold. 

Neil had a feeling he’d missed something momentous, but his head was too full of smoke to know for sure. He turned his head to look through the door at the incoming tide, the moon glistening and the waves soothing. 

“I broke the wrist of his rival,” Andrew finally spoke into the darkness. “Riko hasn’t run the same circuit as Kevin since. He’s currently doing the American run, which is why Kevin is not.”

Neil remembers the headlines. “They said it was an accident.”

“They grew up with the same coaches in the same leagues,” Andrew said. “Riko knew Kevin’s soft spots. I watched him hit him,” he eyes grew dark. “He hasn't hit him since, and he knows what would happen if he ever tried again. Kevin thinks he owes me.”

“You don’t think so.”

“I think,” Andrew said, “I should’ve killed him for it. I think it's also a shame Aaron's mother only died from an overdose."

Neil’s head was spinning. “Have you ever been to Baltimore?”

“Should I?”

Neil didn’t know why he said it. “Never mind.”

They didn’t speak again, though the feeling of Andrew’s eyes on him said enough. 

Allison was mindlessly colouring Neil’s boot when she made a noise.

Neil peered down at her. He was lying on the couch as she sat on the adjacent futon, legs tucked underneath her as she worked on his boot with one of Renee's markers. “What?”

“I was supposed to cut your hair,” she dropped the orange marker and snapped her fingers. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

“You’re not cutting my hair.”

“Too late,” she ordered. “Up, up!”

Before Neil knew it he was in the bathroom sitting on a stool Allison had dragged upstairs. She neatly tucked a towel around his neck, scissors and an electric shaver laid out by the sink. Allison put on some music and rested her chin on his shoulder. She beamed at Neil in the mirror, scissors raised.

“I’m going to make it look like you haven't come off second best with a shark,” Allison ruffled Neil’s hair. “You’ve got a pretty face, Neil. You can’t be hiding that. It’s illegal in eighteen states, you know?” 

Neil rubbed his scar with his thumb. “I don’t think it is.”

“You’re no fun, but my job is,” Allison winked. “I’m going to make Andrew squirm.”

Neil almost took out his eye when he whipped his head around. “What does Andrew have to do with this?”

Allison peered down at him. Head tilted, hair cascading down and tickling his cheeks. “You’re serious?”

Neil pulled away. Allison followed him like a seagull after a chip, and so did her hair. “Can you just cut my hair? Or yours?” 

“You really have no idea…” laughter bubbled out of Allison. “This is going to be better than I thought it would be.” She snipped her scissors, once then twice. “Shall we?” 

Half an hour was all it took for Allison to be satisfied. 

Neil watched his hair change in the mirror. He’d taken no notice before, uncaring of his appearance. Neil looked too much like his father, and given he would cut his own hair once a week Neil preferred his own longer and straggly, if only to put more distance between them. 

His hair was the same dark auburn, with the same curls and the same scar behind his ear that stopped any hair from growing. Now it was shorter at the front and slightly shaved at the sides, curls gathered at the back of his neck. Neil looked like every athlete he’d ever seen from Australia, and he cringed. 

“Do you like it?”

“Do I have a choice?” 

Allison made an indigent noise and paraded Neil down the hall. She came to a stop outside Renee’s bedroom, which happened to be directly opposite Andrew’s. “Renee!” Allison called. “You just have to come look at what I’ve done with Neil’s hair.”

It only took a moment for Renee to appear, her voice soft as she complimented him. The girls started to chat, Renee a normal volume and Allison exceptionally boisterous. Neil’s name was used at a particularly loud volume, her glances back at him and the door behind frequent. 

It took a longer moment for Andrew to appear. 

“Hello, Andrew,” Renee greeted warmly. 

“Hello, Andrew,” Allison greeted viciously. She took hold of Neil’s shoulder and spun him around. “Neil got a haircut. Doesn’t he look nice? It suits him, right?”

Andrew leaned against the door, arms and legs crossed. He took in Neil’s hair and shrugged.

Allison's huff was one of determination, not failure. “Renee,” she said. “I need you to come with me to the store. I’m out of hairspray.” She took Renee’s hand and bounded down the stairs, but not without one final wink at Neil. 

With Allison finally out of sight Neil ran his hands through his hair messily, taking loose strands with him. The layers were confusing, the shortness of certain parts even more so. He should’ve put up more of a fight, but he doubted Allison would quit once she had her heart set on something. She was a lot like Kevin in that sense.

“Be honest,” Neil turned back to face Andrew. “It looks like shit.”

Andrew’s expression was different than it was before. 

He pushed himself off the doorframe and stopped in front of Neil. Andrew’s eyes were sweeping, up and down and back and forth. Standing as close as they were, Neil could see each individual eyelash and a small scar by Andrew’s temple. He could feel his warmth, feeling it more when Andrew brushed the hair from his shoulder. 

“It doesn’t look like shit,” Andrew spoke lowly in his ear. His teeth scraped skin. “Go away.”

Neil turned his head, his nose close to grazing Andrew’s. 

Andrew put his hand on Neil’s forehead and pushed him out of the way. He slammed his bedroom door shut, and Neil heard a very audible click of a lock. Neil scratched the back of his neck and wandered down the stairs, his body overheating from a barely there touch. 

He headed to the beach to cool off. 

Allison caught him before dinner.

“Did he like the hair?”

“I think so.”

Allison clapped her hands in delight. 

Neil spent his day off practising walking without his crutches.

His armpits were beyond irritated, and Neil was determined to get used to not using them. He walked around the house, taking their stairs one at a time and familiarising himself with floorboards and tiles. Neil even managed without them to ready the house for the impromptu party, his only near miss when Allison almost tripped him up with a sprawling set of fairy lights. 

The party was large, with more unfamiliar faces than familiar. 

Each room was packed with bodies, with speakers blaring music Neil hadn’t heard. He nursed an orange juice, moving from room to room like a ghost without a tether, not knowing where to stand or who to talk to. He couldn’t find his people, only spotting Dan surrounded by a group of women and Aaron with a Katelyn under his shoulder. Neil didn’t want to talk to either of them and Dan was too busy with her own friends. 

He eventually found solace in the kitchen. 

Nicky had a plate in hand, a group of people swarming him. It was only clear what he was holding when Neil edged closer.

“Have one Neil,” Nicky grinned. “Take the biggest one.”

Neil didn’t care for brownies. “I’m not a sweet person.”

“You’re very sweet to me, lovely,” Allison peeped over his shoulder and grabbed a brownie. She took a bite and moaned. “Mmm. They’re delicious.” 

“Come on, Neil, I worked really hard on them,” Matt held one up for Neil to take. “Just one.”

“Fine,” Neil grabbed it and took a large bite, then another, just to get them off his case. It was tooth numbingly sweet, with a strange aftertaste that told him Matt probably couldn’t bake. Neil waved a hand. “Happy?”

Nicky’s grin widened. “We are delighted.” 

He spent the next half an hour with three of them.

They were playing some drinking game in the living room, the rules too confusing to follow. Neil didn’t know how they were managing it drunk, but Allison seemed to be winning given her cheers and Nicky and Matt’s yelling. Neil traded his juice for water, the orange juice having started to make his throat feel weird. It had to be close to expiration, given it was Nicky’s juice to begin with and he never took any note of the dates.

“Kevin!” Nicky abruptly cheered. “And you brought company.”

Neil swivelled in his chair to see Kevin and Jeremy standing behind him.

Kevin looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, a bottle of vodka in one hand, soda in the other. 

Jeremy was drinkless. He grinned. “Sorry we’re late, had a meeting with our coach.”

“Sure you did,” Nicky handed Jeremy a cup of punch. “Wanna play?”

Andrew entered the room. He nodded at Kevin, who simply nodded back. Neil thought he might’ve heard a grunt of hello, but the bass was too loud to tell. Surprisingly, Jeremy tried to speak to Andrew, who ignored him completely. They continued on with their game, but Neil had other things on his mind. 

Andrew was lounging on the bay window when Neil asked, “Why’s he trying to talk to you?”

Andrew’s eyes swept across the room until he spotted Jeremy. “He’s irritating.”

“He was talking about you the other day, on the beach,” Neil couldn’t stop talking. He felt like a ribbon, unwoven and spiralling to the ground, tongue loose and words spilling into Andrew’s lap. “He talks too much.”

Andrew’s lip quirked. “You suck a guy off once and he thinks he’s owed a conversation.”

It took a few beats for the words to settle. 

Neil stared at Andrew. “Who haven’t you slept with?”

Andrew stared right back at Neil. “Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, and it felt like a test.

Neil shook his head. “I don’t care. Should I?”

Andrew downed the rest of his beer. “I don’t care what you think.”

“How do you-” Neil gestured clumsily, “-do that with people you don’t know? Strangers.”

“I decide who I want and I ask,” Andrew studied Neil’s face, lips still edging the rim of his beer. “If they say no, I leave. If they say yes, we find a dark corner. When we’re done I don’t need to see them again.”

“But you don’t know them.”

“I don’t need to know them. It’s easier if I don’t.”

Neil pulled a face. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s uncomplicated,” he reached out to Neil and lifted his chin with his thumb and a single finger. “What have you been drinking?”

Neil tried to flick his finger away, but his arm felt too heavy. “Water. Juice.”

Andrew's thumb stroked the underside of Neil’s chin. “Who gave it to you?”

“Renee,” Neil managed to duck out of Andrew’s hold. “I’m fine.”

Andrew appeared more settled at the mention of Renee, but tension lingered in his frame. “Drink some more.”

“Water or orange?”

“Either. Verzieh dich.”

It took Neil a second too long to translate the German. He saluted him and walked (stumbled) to find Renee.

He drank glass after glass, Renee with a watchful eye as he loaded each cup with tap water. It was lukewarm, not quite scratching the itch at the back of his throat but water was water. Dan tried to talk to him, but he didn’t really hear her. A stranger came up to him, a girl with ribbons in her hair. Her laugh was a tinkle, her finger stroking his arm. Neil fled the kitchen. 

Neil loitered in the dark hallway, the light from the living room casting triangle shapes on the floor. Neil traced them with his eyes. He imagined they were the curve of a board, the rug a softer bend of a wave. He imagined Andrew sitting on the board, his strong thighs pillowing on the smooth surface. Neil imagined sitting next to him, the water still around them, with Andrew’s gaze its own whirlpool of intensity. 

The thought of Andrew made Neil’s stomach twist. 

“I think I need some air,” Neil said to no one.

The night was balmy. It hit Neil in a wave when he wandered outside, his bare foot sliding on the worn, woven mat. He stumbled, Neil losing his balance until he tumbled against the wall. He stayed there, sleepy and content. Neil waved at the fox sculpture, expecting it to wave back. Neil pouted when it didn’t. 

His head was spinning.

Andrew followed him outside. Neil catalogued every inch of him: the shaved sides of his head that were slowly starting to grow, the chain hanging out of his black jeans, the hole in his white tank, the height of his boots and the rawness of his lips. He looked imposing. He looked every inch a problem. Neil’s slowing heart pounded when he looked at him.

That was when Neil noticed another thing; Andrew’s pupils were huge. 

“Where are you going?”

“I was thinking.”

Andrew stopped beside him. “About?”

Neil could’ve choked on his own dry throat. “You.”

The party inside dulled, the music and voices nothing more than a flatline compared to Neil’s erratic heart. Andrew drifted closer, Neil feeling like an insect nearing a trap, lit bright and sparking. He knew better, he knew what this inevitably meant. I decide who I want and I ask, Andrew had said, and Neil wondered what had taken him so long.

“What about me?”

“You know.”

Andrew’s knuckle cracked. “Use your words.”

“I don’t think I can,” Neil leaned harder against the wall, using it to keep himself upright lest he fall to bits. “Not like you. You’re…” Neil trailed off, not knowing the right word to say. He had something on his tongue, but it fizzled the moment he tried to speak, Andrew burning up each and every one of his thoughts.

“I’m what?”

“You’re Andrew.”

“I’m Andrew.”

“You know what you want.”

“And what,” Andrew asked, “do I want?”

Neil’s eye contact was sudden and fervent. He didn’t say it, he didn’t have to.

Me, he thought. You want me.

Andrew’s fingers hovered under Neil’s chin. It felt different than before, more charged. A fingernail scraped his skin. Neil’s blood lit up at the touch. His stomach started to feel hot, more insistent than the pleasant warmth. Neil didn’t know this feeling, didn’t understand what Andrew had to do with any of it. He just knew it felt nice, and that Andrew should’ve touched him like this before.

“Andrew,” Neil sighed. 

“Neil,” Andrew murmured. 

His hand hit the wall beside Neil’s head, blocking him in. He was somehow crowding Neil and not touching him at all. Neil felt the urge to pull him closer, like how Andrew always managed to during their nights together in the shack. He felt Andrew’s breath on his cheek. Neil turned into it, feeling the slight brush of lips. A ghost of a touch, of feeling. Andrew tensed, his body a comfortable weight on Neil, who couldn’t fathom a second of this. 

There was someone in his space, a person willing and wanting to be this close, not wanting to harm, not wanting to take from him. Neil didn’t feel sick, or angry, or frightened. He only felt the urge for more of Andrew, for as much of Andrew that he was willing to give. 

Neil curled a finger in the overgrown part of Andrew’s hair, giving an experimental tug. Andrew made a noise, low in the back of his throat. His eyes were thunderous, overblown and sparking, a wayward telephone line stark in the night. Neil opened his mouth, the words getting lost somewhere along the way. 

Neil could only manage a quiet yes like it was everything and anything and nothing at all. 

Andrew’s jaw ticked. “I can’t.”

Neil tilted his head. “Can’t what?” 

“Do this,” Andrew’s forehead hit the wall. “You’re high.”

“I’m high?” Neil’s eyes widened. “On what?”

“The brownie, idiot.”

“The brownie was high?”

Andrew dragged himself off the wall. Neil was caught staring at his biceps, at the strain and the veins. “Yes, it was. They didn’t tell you?”

“They said they were special.”

“Weed, Neil.”

“Oh. I have a shift tomorrow.”

“You’ll be fine,” Andrew grabbed his collar and hauled him off the wall. “Bed.” 

“What are you going to do?”

“Kick the ass of whoever gave you laced brownies.” 

“Matt would squish you,” Neil said. “You’re small.” 

“So it was Boyd?”

“No.” 

“Liar,” Andrew grit out. “Come on.” 

“Where are we going?”

“You are going to bed.” 

Andrew led Neil down the hall. He expected to be taken to his own bedroom, but Andrew carried on upstairs. It would’ve made sense to Neil’s sober brain. Neil’s room is downstairs, it’s noisy downstairs. He has a shift tomorrow, he told Andrew that. He needs to sleep. But Neil wasn’t sober, and Neil hadn’t felt like this for a long time and he couldn’t shut his fucking mouth. 

“Your bed?”

“My bed.”

Andrew didn’t share a room like the others. While the girls bunked together and Aaron and Nicky shared the fourth bedroom at the end of the hall, Andrew had one all to himself. It was the same size as Neil’s, feeling smaller with the double bed shoved against the wall. There were clothes neatly stacked in the laundry basket, band posters plastered on grey walls and a few candles stacked on his dresser.

Neil eyed the pill bottle on Andrew’s bedside.

“What are we doing?” 

“You’re sleeping.”

Andrew lowered Neil onto the bed. Neil hooked his leg behind Andrew’s thigh, pulling him down with him. Andrew fell but caught himself, hands planted on each side of Neil’s head. It was the second time that night he was caged in by Andrew, and he thought perhaps he liked it. A lot. 

“Are you done?” Andrew asked.

“Fully cooked,” Neil threw his head back in laughter. When he opened his eyes he found Andrew staring at him, a soft edge to his expression, there and gone. 

“You’re good, ‘Drew,” Neil sighed. He never knew a pillow could be so comfortable. “Good person.”

Andrew gave him a look. “You’re delusional.”

“Yep,” Neil popped the p. “Tired too.” 

Andrew pulled himself up and disappeared for a moment. He reappeared to throw a water bottle at him. “Sleep.” 

“Sleep with me,” Neil patted the edge of the bed, the pads of his fingers feeling oddly like cotton balls. Andrew’s sheets were soft. “Need company.” 

Andrew set an alarm on his phone and left it on the bedside. He crouched down and took two of Neil’s cotton ball fingers. Andrew squeezed them, a jagged nail slightly digging in. Neil didn’t mind. He was too focused on watching Andrew play with his hands.

“Sleep,” Andrew repeated, his voice low and crackly static. His pupils seemed wider. “Stop looking at me like that. 

“Like what?”

Andrew didn’t elaborate.

With one final squeeze he left Neil alone, his figure on the threshold the last thing he saw before Neil rolled over and passed out. 

Neil’s head was surprisingly clear when he woke the following morning.

The edge of everything was still a little fuzzy, but his body didn’t feel heavy and only his mouth was irritatingly dry. He downed half a bottle of water, almost knocking over the pill bottle in his haste. It was then when Neil remembered he was in Andrew’s room, in Andrew’s bed, and he immediately sat up straight. 

He shut off the second alarm on Andrew’s phone and rolled out of bed. The room spun for a moment before righting himself, his crutches in clear view leaned neatly against the wall. Someone had left them there for him. Andrew had left them there for him .

It was nearing eight, and his shift didn’t start until ten. He didn’t wonder where Andrew slept that night, or if the others knew where Neil crashed. Neil focused on making it down the stairs and to the kitchen where plates and cups were messy and the window was left open, flies nestling on curtains and crevices.

Renee was making herself a cup of coffee when she noticed him. “I need caffeine before this is dealt with,” she gestured to the mess. “Would you like some?”

Neil nodded and sat on the only stool that remained upright.

“Have you seen Andrew?” Neil asked after she handed him the mug.

“I know he left with Kevin last night,” Renee said. “I think I saw him wander in half an hour ago, but it also could’ve been Aaron. The shower’s been running a while now.”

“You can tell them apart.”

“I can,” her fingers tapped her mug. “But I only caught the back of a head, and they’re awfully similar from the back.”

“Andrew holds himself straighter,” Neil blurted.

Renee watched Neil curiously. “He does,” she said, a twinge of something new to her tone. “I think he’d like that you noticed.”

Neil had no time to digest that, as more people stumbled into the kitchen. 

“Tell Minyard he has five more minutes in that shower before I break down the fucking door,” Allison groaned into her granola. “I feel like my skin is made of fish scales.”

“That was the tequila.”

“Your off brand tequila,” Allison swatted at Nicky. “Disgusting. You’re never in charge of shots again.”

“At least I brought some to the party,” Nicky squawked. “You keep your stash locked up like some kind of cheapskate!”

They started to bicker, and Renee managed to usher them out of the kitchen to spare any more headaches.

Matt approached him sheepishly. “Hey, Neil,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the brownie. We should’ve told you they were full of weed. And like, full of weed. I can never get the recipe right.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not if you’re recovering. I know what that’s like.”

Neil frowned. “Recovering?”

Matt seemed a little less sure of himself. “Yeah. Andrew said you were recovering, and to never let you near it again.”

Neil saw red.

He tore his way upstairs (as quickly as his boot allowed) and banged on the bathroom door, steam pooling out from underneath. Neil banged again and again, knowing Andrew was inside and knowing he was ignoring him. Water stopped. Neil heard shuffling and a rustle before the door swung open. It revealed Andrew shirtless with a grey towel tucked around his waist. Neil burst into the bathroom, the steam sticking to his skin and the heat nothing compared to how his chest burned.

“You don’t speak for me,” Neil hissed, so close to Andrew he could’ve bitten into his throat. Neil though he might’ve. “You don’t tell people how to act around me. You don’t lie about me. That’s my job, not yours. Understand? I’m not recovering from anything and it’s none of your fucking business if I was.”

Andrew’s pupils were as large as they were last night. Neil knew he wasn’t high, because his eyes weren’t murky like they were then. They were as sharp as the rocks near Palmetto’s outlook and honed directly into Neil’s. They wavered only once to glance at Neil’s lips as he sneered in Andrew’s face. 

Water dropped from wet hair onto Andrew’s cheek. “I’ve poked a nerve.”

“You’ve sliced into it,” Neil lowered his voice. “Don’t do it again. My body, my authority. Mine, not yours. Clear?”

“Clear as the water on your fucking beach. Get out of my space, I won’t ask again.”

Neil exhaled and forced himself away from Andrew. His chest heaved, his stomach twisting like it was last night the longer he stared at Andrew. The receding anger made way for something else, and Neil did his best to ignore it. Neil didn’t look at Andrew’s broad chest or his shoulders, or the dark hair that led down his stomach that wasn’t toned like the rest of him, instead softer but still strong all the same.

“You don’t own me,” Neil managed to say.

“I don’t want to,” Andrew replied. “Are you done staring?”

“I’m not-” Neil cut himself off with a groan. “Fuck you.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. It infuriated Neil.

“It’s nice to see you not pretending to be somebody you’re not,” Andrew swiped a finger under Neil’s chin who swatted him away. “Whoever you’re hiding under there, tell him I want to meet him.”

“What if he’s a bastard?”

“I’d prefer if he was,” Andrew’s fingers dug until the cotton towel. “Can I get dressed now, or do you want to stare a little longer?”

Neil slammed the door in Andrew’s face.

First aid training was on Wymack’s agenda. 

It was a refresher at most, with Neil lying and saying he’d done one at his previous employment. Wymack had no reason to question him. They rotated in groups of six with Abby teaching them the basics for an hour or so. They were situated in the conference room, a room Neil had only seen the inside of once. It was far too large and too empty at the moment, with chairs and tables scattered against walls. 

They split into pairs to practise CPR. Neil sat with his leg outstretched on the floor, one quarter of his grey boot now orange courtesy of a tipsy Allison. Andrew was seated on a chair, having not even glanced at the eyeless torso on the ground. On the other side of the room Matt started to make out with their dummy. Dan slapped him on the back, barely able to contain her laughter. 

“Andrew,” Abby said when she did her rounds, “could you at least try to be involved?”

“He’s got no pulse,” he pointed to the dummy. “No hope for him.”

Neil held his fingers to the dummy’s neck and nodded. “A goner.”

Abby’s face was a kaleidoscope of dismay.

The boredom eventually got to Andrew. He joined Neil on the floor, his large boots squeaking as he moved. Neil kicked his shin with his boot with a grin. Andrew ignored him. He started compressions on the dummy. Andrew maintained eye contact with Neil the entire time, who did his best not to watch Andrew’s flexing muscles. 

“Careful,” Neil said. “It’ll break.”

“You know it won’t.” 

Neil had a feeling they weren’t talking about dummies. 

The afternoon shift was a drag. Busyness came in bursts, which made everything slower. Every phone call felt tedious, every conversation was like pulling teeth. Neil’s eyebrow started to twitch. He breathed easier the moment he made it to the sand, the drag of his crutches a familiar balm. 

Neil didn’t watch the surf for long. 

The roar of an engine pulled Neil’s attention. Neil dragged himself up and made his way to the shack, the rocks hot under his shoe. Stairs groaned and hinges creaked; the rust welcomed Neil. He poked his head inside and found Andrew, like he’d be anywhere else. 

“Couldn’t save a single dummy today,” Neil said. “All dead.” 

“What a shame.” 

Andrew twisted the packet in his hand. He kicked the pillow his way. Neil sat down with a huff and rested his ankle on it with a sigh. Neil took the offered cigarette, his inhale the first and only one for the night. 

“Your ankle,” Andrew said in lieu of a proper question. “The truth this time.”

Neil raised his chin. “You think I’m lying?”

“You’re breathing,” Andrew said. “You’re lying.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“The boot comes off soon,” Andrew tapped the coloured smudge with his cigarette. “Tell me what you won’t tell them.”

It was an admission from Andrew, acknowledgment that there was something shared between them. Neil had to tell him the truth, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. It felt easier to tell the truth to Andrew than to lie. It would’ve frightened him if it was anyone besides Andrew. Neil’s secrets felt safe with him, nestled safe under granite that wouldn’t crack. 

“I was running from the cops,” Neil admitted. “Supposedly they caught me breaking and entering.” 

“Supposedly.”

“I didn’t break anything. I’m not stupid.”

Andrew’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly. 

“I managed to hide from them, barely,” Neil said. “I limped to a random house, shimmied the lock on their gate and stole a skateboard from the backyard. I presented to the ER and told them I fell off. They didn’t ask questions, I think they just wanted the jumpy kid out as quickly as possible. Why would they care anyway,” he shrugged. “I was trouble.”

“Was.”

Neil blew smoke in his face. Something new was on Andrew’s face when the smoke cleared, and Neil had the sudden urge to explain himself.

“It wasn’t like I was surprised, I probably looked insane after the two mile hobble to the hospital. I hadn’t had a proper meal for days at that point and showers only go so far with only water. I was by myself, no one to vouch for me or anything,” Neil shrugged. “I was used to being alone and figuring things out myself. I only had me, I was safe with just me.”

“Explains that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’ve never had anyone be nice to me in my life’ look,” Andrew flicked ash into a ceramic bowl. “Makes the rest of them cluck like mother hen’s.”

“It’s different now,” Neil said. “I can’t be alone, not with them, or you.”

“Me,” Andrew said. Not a question, not a word, barely a breath.

“You,” Neil said, and he’d say it again if he could. 

They finished their cigarettes in silence. It wasn’t comfortable, far from it. Something had shifted, something close to scratching the surface. It was clearer when Andrew moved. He pushed the ceramic bowl closer to Neil so he didn’t have to move his ankle to throw away his cigarette. Andrew brushed the back of his hand against Neil’s calf and gauged his reaction.

Neil swallowed hard. He pushed his leg closer to Andrew and that was enough.

Andrew sat beside Neil against the wall. Their thighs touched, and Andrew’s fingers hovered across Neil’s jaw, then his neck. He liked to touch him there, and Neil liked the feeling. He leaned into it, losing himself in the hazel depths. Neil feared he’d drown in them if Andrew’s voice didn’t pull him back to the surface.

“How many times do I have to ask you to stop looking at me like that?”

“You can ask as many times as you want,” Neil said. “You don’t want me to.”

Andrew wouldn’t stop looking at his lips. “No?”

Neil shook his head, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. “You like it. You like me.”

“I can’t stomach you,” Andrew said. 

“Your hand on my neck says otherwise.”

Andrew drummed his fingers against Neil’s throat. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Neil said, voice beyond raspy. Andrew wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close.

Andrew brushed his lips against Neil’s neck. “Do you want me to stop this?” At Neil’s quiet no he moved higher up and placed a kiss on Neil’s jaw, then his cheek, asking the question again and again and getting the same response from Neil again and again. He stopped when he reached Neil’s mouth, the pair caught in the snare of their eyes.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” Andrew admitted, and it tilted Neil’s vision. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” Neil said. “Andrew, yes.”

They crashed into each other like waves against a pier in a storm.

Neil had no idea what he was doing, but he quickly found it didn’t matter, not with Andrew pressed against him guiding his mouth. Teeth clashed and noses brushed, Neil sure he’d wake the next morning with a kink in his neck from the way they positioned their bodies, both against the wall and both hungry for each other's next breaths.

Neil kept his hands at his sides, fingers curled into fists as Andrew took him apart piece by piece. It was near bruising, the intensity of him, Andrew diving into Neil the same way he took corners in the maserati or the way he downed shots. Andrew did nothing in halves, and Neil was sure he wouldn’t leave the shack whole, not when Andrew seemed keen to take a piece of him as a souvenir. 

Andrew opened his mouth further, taking Neil’s tongue in his mouth and sucking. Neil’s eyes burst open, and his stomach bottomed out when he locked eyes with Andrew. He was ready and waiting for his reaction, a wicked gleam in his eye and Neil found himself laughing deliriously into the kiss. Andrew swallowed the sound, positioning Neil’s jaw with rough fingers so he was angled slightly above, mouth languid as he sucked on his tongue and his lips until Neil was lightheaded. 

He was an idiot for not doing this sooner, but Neil couldn’t; Neil didn’t want to do this with just anyone. Only Andrew knew him well enough to know just where to touch and how much pressure to apply. Only Andrew knew him well enough to be close but just far enough away if he changed his mind. Only Andrew knew Neil this intimately, because only Andrew knew to learn him this way.

Only Andrew could make Neil’s hands shake the way he thought only adrenaline could. 

They pulled apart, Neil’s chest heaving for air. He swiped his tongue across his teeth, Andrew still so close that he had to go slightly cross eyed to look at him. Andrew frowned and pushed his face away, feigning indifference but Neil could tell in the flicker of his eyes that Andrew’s heart was as erratic as Neil’s.

Neil was breathless as he said, “You want me to stop looking at you, and then you go and do something like that. What’s your problem?”

Andrew wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “You are my problem.”

Andrew pulled him in for another kiss, and Neil’s bones turned to putty.

Tapas was Nicky’s idea.

He was homesick, spouting something about his and Erik’s anniversary and he wouldn’t stop talking until everyone agreed to spontaneously drink with him. It was only a ploy, Neil figured, as it was some kind of fluke that the restaurant had a table for nine on a busy Saturday night. No one said anything, the flickering candlelight in glass jars and soft flamenco lulling any sharp remarks. 

Shots were ordered for the table, and surprisingly Andrew didn’t take one. Neil bit his tongue, knowing not to ask but needing to know. Andrew watched him, half of his attention on Renee in his ear and the other on Neil. Andrew constantly hit the leg of his chair, and Neil didn’t know how he managed it. The table was small, the group squeezed together in the corner. His boots had to be doing the heavy lifting, as Neil knew for a fact his legs weren’t that long.

Andrew hit his chair a little harder the next time, almost like he knew what Neil was thinking.

It was strange, having this thing between them, a secret only the two of them knew. It was a bizarre feeling, not completely unwelcome. Just new, different. Every look felt charged, every word that wasn’t exchanged between them speaking louder than any conversation Neil did manage to have with anyone else. All Neil could think about was touching Andrew again.

Neil was out of his mind, had to be. The salt had finally gotten to him and rotted his head.

The table filled with breads, peppers and all the seafood Neil could think of. He nursed a mocktail, something fruity with a pineapple sticking out the side. 

The server came around when the plates were empty and drinks needed filling.

“Any more food for the table?” she asked, twirling her pen between her fingers.

“I’ll take the crema catalana,” Neil locked eyes with Andrew. “Para él.”

Nicky’s neck popped with he turned to Neil. “Since when do you speak Spanish?” His eyes narrowed. “Since when do you order for Andrew?” Nicky started to curse when Neil ignored him, and no one else seemed to be paying attention. “¡Escucha aquí tu pequeña mierda-”

“Nicky,” Renee breezed her way into the conversation. “Could you pass the corn?”

Nicky handed her the corn with narrowed eyes, but his laser focus was lifted the moment the server came back with a tray full of rebujito.

Andrew dove into the sweet ramekin the moment it hit the table. His next touch under the table was less of a kick and more of a stroke. Neil dove his finger into the custard when he was almost done, the burst of citrus singing on his tongue. He wiped it clean, smacking his lips as he did. Andrew’s next touch under the table was less of a stroke and more of a kick.

The restaurant wasn’t far from the beach, and thankfully so. 

The group ambled to the beach, full of food and alcohol and comradery. Neil followed not far behind, kicking stones and tugging at plants he walked by. Andrew was behind him, not far but still a distance. The walk was quiet, voices white noise lost to the cicadas. He walked easier knowing Andrew had his back, likely with his attention on the path ahead lest Neil’s crutch hit a crack.

Sand, pillowy and still warm from the hot day, made its way into Neil’s shoe before he saw water.

Matt was the first to strip, followed by Dan and Allison. Neil tried to look anywhere else, and he found himself laughing at the absurdity of it. Nicky followed suit, bounding stark naked after them. Aaron stayed ankle deep with Renee, who had to lift up her skirt to keep it from getting wet. Kevin kept a distance away from them, stripped down to his boxers and sitting in the shallows, calmly letting the waves wash over him. 

Andrew stopped beside Neil where he sat alone.

Neil parroted Andrew. “Stop looking at me.”

“Why would I look at you?” Andrew lit a cigarette. “You have a mullet.”

“It’s not a fucking mullet,” Neil hissed. He patted the back of his hair, tugging at a curl with his finger. “Not properly.”

Andrew huffed and took a long drag, the cherry red a burst of colour in the dark. 

“Did you like the dessert?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you would,” Neil smirked. “Sweet, like you.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. 

He thought he heard Andrew say thank you, but it was probably just the breeze hitting the waves, or a drunken shout from water. Neil leaned against Andrew’s leg with a sigh. Tiredness draped over him like a scratchy blanket, and he had to be out of his mind to be this disarmed outside at night. But Andrew was there, the others weren’t far, so Neil allowed it.

Andrew carded his fingers through Neil’s hair in the dark, and he closed his eyes to the touch.

Neil saw his father poolside through the window. 

Rationally he knew it was unlikely. Not quite impossible, but unlikely. It didn’t stop Neil faltering mid-step and almost losing his crutch underneath him. He abandoned any idea of making it back to reception from his break, making a beeline instead for the elevator. It was irrational to click every button on each floor, but Neil was beyond that now. 

He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. 

It usually crept up on him, the weight building until it was unbearable. Neil would push it down until he had time to break. Alone in an alley, hidden under an alcove on an empty beach, crouched on the floor on the backseat of a bus he didn’t buy a ticket for. He would breathe until his chest stopped hurting and his limb stopped aching. He would shove his palms into his eyes until the scars replaced the faces and Neil would snap out of it. 

Neil’s father wasn’t poolside at Palmetto Resort, but he might as well have been.

With fingers Neil couldn’t feel he closed the elevator door on people’s faces. He averted his eyes, unable to stomach his reflection in the shiny stainless wall. There was a routine of open and close until Neil made it to floor six. Andrew stood at the end of the hall beside a housekeeping trolley. He noticed Neil in the elevator and paused. 

Neil couldn’t speak. 

He tumbled out of the elevator, his crutch catching in the space between the door and the carpet. Neil continued forward. The burn in his lungs and the itch of sweat on his back was second to the desire to reach Andrew. Stop this, he thought. You’ve had panic attacks before, you never needed anyone before. Nothing has changed. You’re overreacting.

Neil knew that. He also knew it was a relief to finally have an outstretched hand to keep him upright.

He fumbled with words when he finally reached Andrew. With a shaky hand Neil pointed downstairs, like that explained anything. Andrew watched him, not quite wary but not quite nonchalant either. Neil swallowed razors, the dryness of his throat stuttering his breath and Andrew seemed to have reached his limit.

Andrew’s hand wound around the back of Neil’s neck, holding him still. “Breathe.” 

“Can’t.”

“You are.”

Neil squeezed his eyes shut until his breathing evened out. 

He deflated as quickly as he’d spiralled, leaving Neil hollowed and embarrassed. He hated the after, the tangible rawness it left in spades across his skin. Neil’s body was sore, like he’d run five blocks. He didn’t look at Andrew, not wanting to see his expression. Neil took a step back, his boot clunking against the wall.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“I thought I saw-”

“Don’t explain yourself to me.”

Neil toyed idly with his crutches. “I’ll go.”

A hand on his forearm stopped him. 

“I finish in half an hour,” Andrew said. “Let Renee know she’s covering reception.”

Neil moved through the motions, too tired to try and argue.

Renee was unbothered, more than happy to don her receptionist smile. She didn’t ask questions like the others would, simply taking Neil at face value and not demanding anything more. He mulled over it as he waited for Andrew to finish. It was strange, how none of them ever wanted anything in return from him. Their kindness was unquestionable and unfathomable. 

Neil sometimes didn’t know if he deserved it. 

He was seated on a bench outside when Andrew found him. Neil fell into their routine: crutches in the back, sit down before Andrew takes off, imagine every corner was a wave guiding a board. He was making his way up the porch before he knew it. Andrew unlocked the front door with his orange key, the house empty for once. He guided Neil upstairs with a hand pressed against his back.

Neil sat down on Andrew’s bed. It was as soft as he remembered.

“This is new,” Andrew said. He leaned against the closed door, fingers playing with the lock. None of the other doors had locks. “I thought I’d be the last person anyone would seek out during a breakdown.”

“It wasn’t a breakdown.” 

“Don’t lie to me.”

Neil looked at the floor. “It doesn’t happen that often. I thought I saw my father, that’s all.”

“He’s not here.”

“I know.”

“And if he was,” Andrew said, “he would be dealt with.”

They locked eyes, and any tension left in Neil washed out of him.

“You take medication,” Neil said when he couldn’t ignore the pill bottle a second time.

“I do.”

“What for?”

“You have no fucking manners.”

“My mother forgot to teach me,” Neil said, “she was too busy watching my father hit me.” 

“You should be on medication.”

“Shrinks are too expensive.”

“They are,” Andrew said. “Bipolar.”

“Okay.”

“Bipolar two,” Andrew corrected, “because it matters.”

“That’s what your shrink says?”

“I don’t see her that often,” Andrew looked somewhere beyond Neil. “It was bad when I was seventeen. They only start caring when you hurt yourself. I saw her and started taking her magic pills,” he wiggled his fingers, his joint sparking in the darkness. “Better.”

Andrew didn’t like Neil’s silence. “Say it.”

Neil screwed up his face. “What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, say it,” he said, a lick of heat behind his words. “Don’t tell me you’re too scared to speak now.”

“I don’t have anything to say. I don’t care what you have, I’m not exactly the poster child for stability,” Neil tugged his knee to his chest. “I just…”

“Spit it out.”

“I don’t like the thought of you dealing with that. That’s all.”

Andrew took a long drag. “It was years ago. Aaron and Nicky helped. I’m not a baby bird you need to put back in its nest.”

“You’re not weak, and it wouldn’t matter if you were. It’s only a part of you, it’s not you , ” Neil shrugged. “I like you. Every inch.”

Andrew shook his head. “Stop saying things like that.”

“No,” Neil said. “I believe them. I want you to hear them.”

“And I want you to shut your mouth.”

“That’s not going to happen.” 

Andrew pushed off the door and took Neil’s chin in hand. “You talk too much.” 

“Then shut me up.” 

Andrew pulled away. “Not now.”

“Okay.”

Andrew somehow looked even more annoyed. 

An unfamiliar guilt crawled at Neil’s sternum. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew took off his shoes and sat beside him. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“It doesn’t,” Neil agreed. “I’m nosy.”

“No,” Andrew deadpanned. “You’re perfectly normal.”

They sat with each other’s company until doors downstairs started to slam.

An impromptu movie night was held, and Neil had a sneaking suspicion it was Renee’s idea. No one had asked if he was okay, which meant she’d kept his meltdown to herself. Another flare of something not quite guilty struck Neil’s chest, and he thought to make an effort to speak to her every now and again, his reservations about her when they met completely juvenile. 

She looked out for him, just in a different way than the others or Andrew. He valued that.

It was a scary movie, some kind of slasher film from the 90’s with a hooded figure where everyone bleed strawberry red blood. The smell of popcorn wafted around the group, accompanied by laughter and chatter and the drone of fans spread across the room. Neil sat on the couch, his ankle rested on the coffee table as everyone took turns colouring in his boot. Even Aaron had a turn, though his scribble was covered quickly by Matt.

“I don’t think Wymack would appreciate a dick on Neil’s ankle.”

“Why not? It suits him,” Aaron raised an eyebrow and he looked far too much like Andrew for Neil’s liking. “He’s a dick.”

Andrew flicked popcorn at his brother’s face and Nicky howled with laughter. 

By the end of the night, Neil’s boot was coloured entirely orange.

Neil only had a few days until his boot was removed.

He wasn’t completely delusional. He knew it would still take time before he was back to full strength and activity, but there was a giddiness at the feeling of freedom, of being so close he could feel it on his tongue. Kevin could taste it too. It wasn’t lost on him how Kevin seeked him out on multiple occasions to discuss how Neil could fit his roster into training. 

Neil wanted to celebrate the only way he knew how. 

Renee dropped him off in the van after his shift. He hadn’t told her where to go, she just seemed to know, and Neil had a feeling he wasn’t the only one Andrew allowed in his shack. With the paper bag held sturdy in hand Neil waved her off, mounting the stairs one by one so as to not drop his haul. Andrew watched him struggle with a half smoked cigarette in his mouth.

Neil wiped sweat from his brow. “Don’t rush to help.”

Andrew snuffed out the cigarette. “You’re managing. I’m watching if you don’t.”

His stomach did that thing it did when Andrew was involved. Neil dropped the bag and emptied the the melted chocolate, marshmallows and Tupperware full of fruit between them. “I stole this from the kitchen,” Neil opened the container and started arranging them on the lid. “They were going to throw it out. It’s not waste, it’s perfectly fine.”

“Renee will have you picking up litter on the beach with the other volunteers if you’re not careful,” Andrew said, stealing a marshmallow. “This was going to be thrown out?”

“Nicky wanted them in the pantry,” Neil shrugged. “Not stolen, he did give them to me.” 

Once Neil was done he spread out his arms, quite proud of the assortment. “Satisfied?”

“Too much fruit,” Andrew took another marshmallow and dunked it in the chocolate. “It’s hard.”

“Sorry I don’t have a fire pit or a hot stove, didn’t exactly fit in the container,” Neil slapped Andrew’s hand when he went for another marshmallow. “Do you want this place to burn down?”

“I’m the arsonist, remember?” 

They continued like that for a while, back and forth, exchanging fruit and senseless nothing. Favourite colour? Black. Shocking. Ever been overseas? Germany. Me? No, never. Is Kevin ever not like that? When he’s alone and not thinking too much, yes, he’s tolerable. 

“You stole everything but utensils,” Andrew said, chocolate covering his middle and index finger. “You’re not house trained.”

And Neil had to be out of his mind because without thinking he crawled forward, his hands resting by Andrew’s knees. He took Andrew’s fingers in his mouth and sucked the chocolate off, slowly, making sure not to miss a single drop. Neil kept eye contact with him, peering up at Andrew through his lashes and liking what he saw. 

Neil could see the heat he was feeling reflected in Andrew’s own eyes, burning and wanting. 

Andrew finally moved when Neil licked the final finger clean. He grabbed Neil under his arms and hauled him up, forcing him against the shack wall. After a low yes or no? followed by Neil’s high pitched yes Andrew was on him, taking him apart with his mouth. 

The kiss was near frenzied, the tension after their first kiss driving them both a little mad. Andrew was less controlled than he usually was, his teeth with more bite than last time. Neil was the same, Andrew drawing noises out of him he wasn’t sure he could make. 

Andrew was kneeled in between Neil’s spread legs, fingers fanned across his stomach, his thumbs cradling inner thighs. Andrew started to massage the sensitive skin there. Neil hit his head against the wood and cursed. Andrew smirked into his mouth and dug his thumbs deeper, slower.

Neil cursed again.

“I can’t stand you,” Andrew breathed against his cheek, the pair needing to come up for air. His chest was erratic, Neil’s heart mirroring his. “Why would you do that?”

“I like you,” Neil’s smile was lopsided. “I thought the chocolate would be enough to woo you, but this is okay.” 

“Woo me?”

“Yes. Are you wooed?” 

“Depends,” Andrew dipped a strawberry in the chocolate. He held it up to Neil, who licked the bottom before taking it whole. Andrew flicked the stem aside and brushed away a bit of chocolate from the corner of Neil’s mouth. 

“I hate you,” Andrew said it with so much conviction, like his pants weren’t strained and his cheeks weren’t flushed. “I want to blow you. Yes or no?”

Neil could barely breathe. “Andrew-”

“Neil,” Andrew panted, and Neil couldn’t remember seeing Andrew this unkempt before. “Yes or no?” 

“Yes, yes.” 

The tupperware went flying. Andrew shoved it all out of the way to position Neil just the way he liked. Neil slid down the wall slightly, Andrew resting a pillow behind Neil’s back and a pillow under each of his own knees (not forgetting a pillow for Neil’s boot). From this angle Neil could see Andrew’s strong thighs, his shorts riding up just slightly, the muscles in his shoulders rolling. 

His dick twitched and Andrew huffed. “Patience.”

Neil didn’t say he couldn’t help it, that he’d never been in this position before, never felt like this before, and had no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn’t have to because Andrew knew, and Andrew would never hold it against him. All Andrew cared about was his yes, and helping him with the tension he couldn’t hold any longer.

Andrew rolled down Neil’s shorts, then his underwear. He slid a warm hand against his exposed cock and Neil’s breath hitched. The shack was quiet save heavy breathing, the steady lull of the ocean grounding Neil and keeping him from floating off into space.

Andrew took him whole, and Neil saw stars. 

As Andrew worked his mouth, Neil’s toes squirmed. He didn’t know whether to close his eyes or watch, Neil not knowing how much of an idiot he’d look like from Andrew’s angle. He tried to close his eyes, but failed. Neil had to watch Andrew touch him, there wasn’t any other option. Not when they’d come this far. 

They locked eyes immediately, like Andrew was waiting for him to come to his senses. Andrew hollowed his cheeks, doing something with his tongue that made Neil squirm. He dug his nails into his thighs, hyper aware of the fact that Andrew hadn’t said anything about touching. 

After a particularly lewd lick Andrew pulled away, a single string of spit following. “Hair only,” he said, taking one of Neil’s hands and burying his fingers in the strands. “I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to.”

Neil nodded and clasped both hands in Andrew’s hair, just as Andrew took hold of Neil’s hip and the base of his cock. 

Where Neil lacked experience, Andrew made up for it in spades. He twisted his hand and flicked his tongue, his mouth so warm Neil could barely take it. He could hear himself blabbering nonsense, a cacophony of language and twitching fingers, hips bucking and his good leg wrapping around Andrew’s own. 

“Andrew, Andrew,” Neil threw his head back, gasping at a particularly deep swallow. “Quiero más! Fuck, fuck.” 

Andrew placed a hand on Neil’s stomach, Neil sure the heat there would burn through bone. Andrew toyed with the head of his cock, using him both excruciatingly slow and impossibly quick. Neil moaned simply at the look on his face, competent and confident and oozing I have you, you’re all mine, I’m making you feel like this. 

Neil didn't know how much longer he could take it, and Andrew seemed to know it too.

“Zeig mir,” Andrew hummed in German. “Let go.” 

It only took a few more pumps of Andrew’s hand and the drag of his tongue for Neil to come. 

He tried to squirm away from Andrew but Andrew held him still, swallowing and riding Neil down from the wave. He rubbed his jutting hip bones as he slowly came back to himself, Neil’s entire body flushed red with sweat. He could’ve gone another hour. He couldn’t handle a second longer. 

Neil breathed steadily through his nose to catch his breath, running his fingers through the sweaty curls on top of Andrew’s head and stroking the shaven part of his hair with his thumb. His body felt like a cloud, floaty and without trajectory. He wished he could bottle this feeling, loose and warm and without worry, even if only for a moment.

“You’ve clearly thought about this,” Neil panted, twitching at the feeling of a kiss on his thigh. 

“Since the first time I saw you, yes,” Andrew said after another kiss, “I wanted you.” 

“Now you’ve had me,” an irritating doubt swamped Neil, a sharp hook deflating his balloon limbs. “So what now, now that I’m out of your system?”

Andrew frowned a little. “If you don’t want me to, this is the last time I’ll touch you. If not, I can fuck you every day if you ask me to.” His thumb returned to Neil’s hip bone. “You should know my opinion by now. I won’t explain myself to you.” 

A different kind of warm overcame Neil. “I won’t ask you to.” 

Andrew nipped at Neil’s hip with his teeth and Neil couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “I can’t believe you swallowed that.”

Andrew pushed Neil away and threw a strawberry at him. 

Kevin glared at Neil from the backseat of the maserati. 

It was hardly Neil’s fault Andrew wanted him there. Last Neil checked his name wasn’t stitched on the seat, and Nicky and Aaron never kicked that great of a fuss. They were only headed to the city, a fifteen minute drive max to run whatever errand Kevin needed done. It was an excuse for a drive, an afternoon storm leaving a pleasant smell in Neil’s nose as they tore down the winding wet road.

Andrew parallel parked in front of a bank. He turned to look at Kevin.

“I won’t be long,” Kevin said, a wad of cash in hand. “Wymack usually gets a pastry or something from that bakery-” he pointed his finger at one of the storefronts, “-when he waits. They make good lemon squares.”

“Thought your body was a temple, Day.”

Kevin frowned. “Yeah. They’re good lemon squares.”

He slammed the door and crossed the road, leaving the pair alone.

Neil could only stand the silence and the lack of air conditioning for so long. “Can I drive back?”

Andrew mulled it over for a moment. He opened his door and walked around the car, peering through the window of the passenger side. Neil crawled over the gearshift into the driver’s seat, only needing to slightly adjust the mirror as Andrew settled beside him. 

Andrew watched him, waiting for something.

Neil soon understood. “Kevin isn’t back yet.”

Andrew leaned over and turned the key, his hand scraping across Neil’s thigh. “Drive.”

Neil didn’t need to be told twice. 

He took off down the road, pulling out in front of an SUV and ignoring the irritated honk. Neil drove towards the water under Andrew’s watchful eye. He pulled into a quiet parking lot, with most cars congregated closer to the water. It left a lonely corner for Neil to pull into, the tree above with falling leaves providing relief from the sun. 

Neil ran his hands across the steering wheel when he turned off the engine. He turned to Andrew with a grin. “I don’t have a licence.”

Andrew spread his legs. “Come here.”

Neil, remembering the ghost of Andrew’s mouth on his hip, crawled into his lap.

It took a few moments of awkward limbs and wandering hands until they were both comfortable, Neil’s yes a flare shot into the night. Andrew kissed him slow and deep, like he would lose Neil in the dark if he didn’t. Neil lost himself to the feeling, not quite hating the way Andrew’s strong hands cradled his thighs, keeping him upright. 

“Have I told you,” Neil whispered against Andrew’s neck, getting a thrill when he noticed Andrew’s shiver, “how much I like doing this with you?”

Andrew bit at Neil’s lip. “Shut up.”

It worked for a moment. Until, “Feels nice.”

“What did I say?”

“You like it,” Neil raised an eyebrow. “What? You want me to be quiet?”

Neil’s next moan was purposefully breathy in Andrew’s ear.

Andrew suddenly adjusted his seat, sending them backwards. It jostled them, brushing their groins against one another. Neil gasped into Andrew’s mouth, who savoured the taste and swallowed it whole. Andrew squeezed Neil’s ass and angled him just right, his thigh brushing against Neil’s groin again and again until Neil’s next moan was ripped out of him.

It felt like retaliation. It felt unbelievably good.

A furious knock on the window drew them apart.

Andrew rolled the window down a few inches, hand halfway down Neil’s pants who didn’t dare move. 

Kevin stood there with a scowl on his face. “You left me there.”

“You took too long.”

“I was five minutes! How long do you think currency exchange takes?” Kevin didn’t skip a beat, clearly seeing Neil and clearly understanding what was happening but not caring in the slightest. “You couldn’t wait five fucking minutes?”

“Technically it was seven,” Neil chimed in, inhaling sharply when Andrew’s thumb slid into his underwear. 

“Unbelievable,” Kevin shook his head. “When I get you back into the water, Neil, timing is the first thing we’re working on. You can’t seriously expect to retrain your body if you can’t-”

Andrew rolled up the window and Neil thanked God it was tinted.

Andrew woke Neil before sunrise the morning his boot was being removed.

He didn’t say anything, simply throwing a towel and a change of clothes his way. With bleary eyes Neil did as he was told, noting the time and taking too long to put the pieces together. It was obvious when he rounded the corner and saw Kevin through the door, his pristine board shiny under the dim porchlight.

Neil was giddy, almost missing the final step as he made his way down. He knew they usually walked to the beach, but given Neil’s injury they drove. The roar of the maserati made a dog bark, the early morning not deterring Andrew in the slightest. Kevin seemed less bothered to be in the backseat. 

It could’ve been the lack of sleep. It could’ve been what he’d seen Andrew and Neil doing in the front seat. It could’ve been the concentration of slightly hanging outside the window to keep his board upright and safe on the roof of the car with no rope. With Kevin, Neil couldn’t know for sure.

A group of surfers scattered the water, some catching waves and others floating, waiting for the sunrise. Kevin immediately took off, a look of determination on his face. By the time Neil managed to make it to the water he already caught a wave, Kevin's aerial outshining the few around him. 

“Show off,” Andrew muttered. 

“I hate to break it to you,” Neil said, kicking his boot in the sand, “but once this is off-”

“You’re going to be as infuriating as him,” Andrew cut him off. “I know.”

“And you don’t care?”

Andrew was quiet for a beat, then, “You have an upside.”

Neil beamed. 

He went to sit down, but Andrew’s hand on his bicep stopped him. He gestured with his head to a board lying on the sand. It was a newer model, fully white with a colourblock of bold orange at the bottom. Andrew grabbed hold of it and shook off the sand. He said, “Don’t sink us. I don’t want to smell like seaweed all day.”

Neil’s eyes bulged when Andrew started to lead him to the water. He didn’t bother to ask Neil to wipe that look off his face, as it would be a losing battle today of all days. Neil didn’t believe it until Andrew threw the board in the water. He was fully clothed, at odds with the surf and completely out of place for Neil.

All of this, for Neil…

Neil could’ve thrown up. 

He sat on the board gingerly, boot outstretched. Andrew was at his back and already wading through the water, keeping his hands on the board to steer it straight ahead. If Neil was with anyone else he would’ve feared toppling over and into the water, but Andrew was such a strong presence behind him he wasn’t worried.

Andrew pulled himself onto the back of the board when the water became too deep, and they started to drift out to sea, heading straight for the rising sun. Orange spread across blue, casting glorious light across every glistening surface. Silence consumed them, drifting around like the spray of the ocean, and Neil swallowed a lung full of the delicate moment. 

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“No,” Andrew said. “I didn’t.”

Neil struggled to turn around. He needed to see Andrew, sunrise be damned. A warm hand hovering by his waist stopped him. It was a question, and Neil’s answer was a quiet yes. Water shifted as Andrew helped him adjust, his boot left with salty droplets. 

Andrew’s hair was like a halo under the sunlight, glowing and near white. His freckles appeared darker, his edges softer. When he moved to turn his head away Neil stopped him, fingers digging softly into his cheek. His chest fluttered under the intensity of his gaze. Neil felt disarmed, speechless, and so warm. 

“The board is mine, isn’t it?”

Andrew shrugged. “I got paid. Had nothing else to spend it on. It’s just a surfboard,” he added when Neil struggled to find the words.

“You know it’s more than that,” he managed to say. “Thank you.”

Andrew only nodded.

“It might help my case,” Neil said, pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m going to ask Wymack if I can help Dan with her lessons once the boot is off. I think if I had to answer one more phone I might throw it through the window.”

“You shouldn’t move too quickly.”

“I know,” Neil sighed. His head lolled forward. Andrew scooted closer so Neil could rest his head on his chest, mindful of his ankle. “I’ve waited this long.”

“Inpatient.”

"I think I'll survive."

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Neil almost fell off the board with the fervour of Andrew’s kiss, but the hands on his waist stopped him from falling.

With the warmth of the sun at his back and Andrew crowding his front, Neil didn’t think of what came next. He didn’t think of where he would go after summer ended, or who would offer him a bed or if Andrew would welcome him in his own. He didn’t know who would take his doctored resume, or if Kevin was serious about his future career plans for him. He didn’t know if his ankle would ever fully heal, or if he’d be able to leave Palmetto at all. 

All Neil knew was this: he liked Andrew’s mouth on his and he was someone concrete. Autumn wouldn’t change that.