“Wanna know if they truly love you? You don’t doubt it.”
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~ Elizabeth ~
“Love is a risk.”
Luke’s words echoed like a soft chant in the back of my mind, repeating over and over again like a slow song on replay. I clutched my flip-flops in one hand as I walked barefoot along the quiet path leading to the beach. The air was thick with salt, silence, and a thousand unspoken thoughts.
Mom had gone to see Luke—for what felt like the hundredth time since we got here—but something was different this time. Her smile had been brighter like the sun finally remembered how to shine after weeks of rain. I watched her pick out her dress, twirl in front of the mirror, and apply lipstick like a woman, remembering how to feel beautiful again.
And in that moment, watching her like that, I didn't feel the usual pang of resentment or worry. I felt… happy. Genuinely happy.
Five months ago, she could barely hold herself together after the divorce. And me? I was the new girl at Hollands High, the girl who transferred after Eliezer’s death, carrying a heart full of grief and a backpack full of silence.
But five months later? Here I was, walking toward someone who used to make my stomach churn. Now, he made it flutter.
Patrick.
I spotted him even before I reached the shore—sitting shirtless in the sand, ocean breeze ruffling his brown curls, blue shorts hanging low on his hips. My heart stuttered as I watched the sunlight kiss his skin, outlining the sharp curves of his shoulders and collarbone.
He looked like a painting I never knew I needed.
His eyes caught mine like they were waiting, and he smiled. That stupid smile that always turned my knees to soup.
Suddenly, I felt naked under my long jacket. Maybe I was, considering I wore only a bikini beneath it.
“Hey,” he called, lifting a hand in greeting like we were the only two people on Earth.
“Hey,” I said softly, closing the distance between us and sitting beside him, trying not to shiver from more than just the breeze.
“Hmm,” he hummed, narrowing his eyes at me. “I thought I said only bikinis?”
His voice was low and playful but edged with something more—something like possession. My cheeks flared.
“I—” I started but stopped when his hand reached for my shoulder, fingers grazing my skin with deliberate softness.
“You…” he repeated, and gently slid the jacket off me like it was the most fragile thing in the world. Like I was the most fragile thing. It dropped to the sand without resistance.
His gaze never left mine, not even for a second. “You are beautiful, Bethely.”
His hand moved from my shoulder to lift my chin, and in the seconds that followed, the world fell away.
Then he kissed me.
It was soft at first. Hesitant. Like we were both asking a question with our lips. But then it grew wild—like fire catching on dry leaves. I kissed him back like I’d been waiting all my life to taste something that felt like freedom.
The warning bells were there—screaming in the back of my head. This is dangerous. This is fast. This is Patrick.
But I silenced them all.
In that moment, nothing mattered—no past, no pain, no pretending. Just this: lips pressed together, breath tangled, fingers gripping tight like we were scared of floating away.
I held him like a lifeline like his touch could anchor me back to life.
“Breathe,” he whispered, his lips brushing mine.
I did. And then we started again.
Somewhere between kisses, I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, I was curled in his arms, tucked into his chest like something precious. And he was just… holding me. Not rushing. Not demanding. Just… there.
His embrace was so gentle, it almost made me cry. No one had held me like that before—not since Eliezer. Like I was breakable. Like I mattered.
“Hey,” I mumbled, stirring slightly.
His eyes found mine, soft and unreadable.
“Wanna swim?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question. Like the decision had already been made.
Before I could respond, he was standing, his hand stretched toward me. I took it, my body moving before my mind could catch up. I barely dropped my sling bag before he pulled me into the water with him.
“Ouch!” I cried as the cool water enveloped me, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins. I gasped, laughing, wiping water from my face.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” I yelled and lunged at him. My hands found his back and shoved. He tumbled into the water with a surprised yelp.
When he rose, sputtering, he grinned devilishly. “Take this!” he said and dunked me under again.
We played like that—splashing, laughing, chasing shadows in the sea.
And then, suddenly… I stilled. An idea flickered in my mind—reckless, playful, maybe even stupid.
I let myself sink, pretending to drown. “Help!” I cried, my arms flailing, my voice shaky.
The response was immediate.
Patrick swam to me like a man possessed. His arms wrapped around me as he kicked us back to the shore, his face pale with panic.
“Bethely! Come on—stay with me!” he cried, laying me down and pressing my stomach. I coughed, water spilling from my lips.
“Please… talk to me. Say something!” He began rubbing my cold feet, whispering something I didn’t fully catch. “Open your eyes, please…”
And then—
“S’il vous plaît, jolie…”
My eyes snapped open. The French… that accent… it pierced something deep in me.
“Pat—” I started, but he kissed me again, cutting off my words and drowning them with his lips. I kissed him back with everything I had, pouring apology and affection into every second.
We only stopped when we couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?” he whispered, his voice trembling, eyes glassy.
I nodded, feeling a pit of guilt open in my stomach. I had forgotten what water meant to him. I had forgotten the trauma. His fear was real and raw, and I had triggered it for fun.
“I’m sorry… Je suis désolée, Pat…” I whispered back.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, kissing my temple as I sat up, heart still thudding.
He moved behind me, and I leaned back into him. His arms wrapped around me tightly, as if he was afraid I’d slip away again.
I didn’t care that I was half-naked. Or that we were soaked and sandy. All I cared about was this. His arms. His heartbeat. The quiet way the world stood still for us.
“You know what, Bethely?” His breath was warm against my cheek.
I turned slightly. “What?”
“You’re the most beautiful sunshine I’ve ever seen.”
One sentence. That was all it took. One sentence to split me wide open.
A tear escaped the corner of my eye. I wiped it before he could see. “And you, Pat… are my moon.”
He smiled. And together, we watched the sun slowly deep beneath the horizon.
Maybe this is what it feels like to fall. Not all at once, but slowly, deeply and dangerously.
Even if it still feels… one-sided.
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A/N: What do you think of the chapter, guys?