Hannah's POV
First festival of the summer: the town Luau. Aka, the only time of year it's socially acceptable to show up barefoot, slightly sweaty, and carrying a casserole.
Honestly, it's the perfect day for it—if your idea of perfect is standing on a frying pan. It's easily pushing ninety. I threw on a white sundress that floats around my ankles and stuffed some tiny shorts underneath because the wind was acting like it had a personal vendetta today.
I hate sand. Truly. It gets everywhere, in places you didn't know existed. But still, I'm kind of excited. Grandpa used to love these festivals, said they made the town feel alive. It feels weird being here without him, but also kind of nice to show up for something he loved.
When I got to the beach, I had to admit—it looked incredible. Lanterns hung between poles, bobbing slightly in the breeze like they were dancing. Someone built a little wooden stage-slash-dance-floor in the middle of the sand, and a very questionable-looking stereo sat next to it, blasting music that was just barely off-key. Kids were digging holes and calling them sandcastles, and Marnie stood over a giant pot of whatever was supposed to be stew, stirring it like she was brewing secrets.
Then I heard it—Haley's laugh, sharp and unmistakable. Like if a seagull got into glitter.
There she was, practically glued to Alex's side. And there he was—shirtless, tanned, sunglasses somehow looking custom-made for his face. I mean, it's honestly rude. He looked like someone who's never known the pain of a sunburn in his life.
And me? I looked like I lost a fight with SPF 100 and came out with a decent participation trophy.
I haven't talked to Alex since the weird half-naked dinner at Evelyn's house, which is a sentence I didn't think I'd ever say. He doesn't owe me anything—we barely know each other—but I can't lie, watching Haley braid daisies into his hair made something in my chest tighten. Not jealousy, exactly. Just... okay, maybe a little bit. Whatever. It's fine.
Trying to shake it off, I glanced toward the far side of the beach and saw Sebastian, sitting alone on an overturned crate like he was in a moody indie film. Sunglasses low on his nose, sleeves rolled up just enough to look like effort was made. He looked like someone who tried summer for five minutes and decided it wasn't for him.
He was poking at something in the water with a stick. I walked over.
"Are you bothering marine life or just philosophizing about it?" I asked.
He looked up at me slowly, squinting like a cat waking up in a sunbeam. "Depends."
I plopped down in the sand beside him. He tossed the stick and pulled out a cigarette.
"I thought you hated festivals," I said.
"I do," he replied, already bored of everything around him. "And yet... here I am. Suffering."
I raised a brow. "So why come?"
"Sam said if I didn't, he'd tell Mayor Lewis I was the one who replaced all the event flyers with sad poetry."
I blinked. "Wait. That was you?"
He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I was in a mood."
I couldn't help laughing. There's just something about the way Sebastian speaks. He says these weird, out-of-nowhere things with zero concern for how they land. And weirdly enough, it works. I like that he doesn't try to be understood. He just... says what he means.
"Most people think I'm being dramatic," he added.
"I don't," I said, meaning it. "I think you're just misunderstood."
He huffed a little laugh. "Misunderstood, lost—semantics. Most people prefer maps."
He looked out toward the ocean, and I found myself watching him instead. The way the sun hit his purple-tinted hair. The paleness of his skin that somehow made him stand out even more. He wasn't trying to impress anyone. He just existed, quietly, like a thought you couldn't quite finish.
"I'm more of a maze," he said suddenly. "One of those annoying ones where the walls close in on you when you're almost out."
I didn't know what to say to that. Mostly because I knew I'd be thinking about that sentence for the rest of the week.
Haley's laugh broke the moment again. I turned my head just enough to catch her tucking another flower behind Alex's ear like they were the stars of a beach-themed rom-com.
"You and Alex," Sebastian said. "Is that... a thing?"
I let out a short laugh. "No. I thought maybe he liked me, but then again—it's Alex. He's sunshine and swagger. And I'm the new girl who still gets lost trying to find Pierre's on Tuesdays."
Sebastian gave a small nod, like he got it.
"I'm not looking for anything right now anyway," I added quickly. "I don't really need the drama."
"Drama's part of the package," he said. "Everything's complicated."
I watched him carefully. There was something about the way he said that—not bitter, just honest. It felt like he was speaking from somewhere way deeper than the beach or the conversation.
"Do you think you'll ever let anyone in?" I asked quietly.
He exhaled slow, like I'd asked something he didn't quite know how to answer.
"Probably not," he said with a crooked little smile. "Not because I don't want to. Maybe... I just never learned how."
And just like that, the music, the voices, Haley's laugh—all of it faded into background noise. For the first time, I felt like I wasn't just talking to Sebastian. I was seeing him. And somehow, that was way scarier.
Because I wasn't sure I'd be able to un-see him after this
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Alex POV:
I'm not saying I'm the king of summer, but if there were a crown, it'd be sitting comfortably on my head right now.
It's ninety degrees, the sun is doing its whole golden hour thing, and I've got on sunglasses that make people do double takes. Haley's been latched onto my arm like I'm handing out free skincare samples, and for the first hour, I let it happen. Not because I'm into it—but because pretending everything is fine is my Olympic sport.
I'm good at this part. The leaning back, the casual smile, the "yeah, I just rolled out of bed looking like this" thing. It's a distraction. From what, I'm not even sure today. Life, maybe. Or myself. Haley's talking about her favorite brand of dry shampoo or something equally soul-shriveling, and I nod along because it's easier than pulling away.
Then I see her.
Hannah.
She's wearing this white sundress that moves like it was made to be seen in slow motion. And she's got this nervous energy like she's not sure if she belongs, which is hilarious, because the second she walks onto the beach—she changes the whole vibe.
And I do nothing. I pretend not to notice her, even though I feel it—the shift in my chest, that familiar pressure behind my ribs, did I like that she could see me with Haley?
Because the truth is: she makes me nervous. Not in the flirty, butterflies kind of way. In the she might actually get me to talk about stuff I avoid at all costs kind of way. She is someone that is easy to talk to, from the moment I first saw her I just felt this gravitation.
I catch myself glancing her way again and—of course—she's not looking back. She's walking across the beach... toward Sebastian.
And now I'm paying attention.
He's sitting on a crate like the human version of a rain cloud, sunglasses too low on his nose, poking at the water like it offended him personally. He looks as miserable as always, which is basically his brand. I figured he'd ghost this whole thing, but apparently Sam guilt-tripped him into showing.
Hannah sits next to him. And then she's laughing. With him.
My jaw doesn't drop or anything dramatic, but I feel my stomach do this weird flip. And not the good kind, like after too many of Gus's lemon bars. The kind where something tightens, and suddenly I hate that I can't hear what they're saying.
Sebastian's saying something, and she's actually listening. She's leaning in, smiling—really smiling—and he's doing that awkward shrug-while-trying-not-to-care thing. She touches the sand next to him, just lightly. He doesn't flinch. He's even smiling back, which for Sebastian is basically a marriage proposal.
And that feeling in my chest? It tightens a little more.
I force myself to look back at Haley. She's still talking. Now it's about bikinis. Or eyelash glue. I don't even know.
I look back again. Hannah's watching Sebastian now, like he said something that hit her a little too deeply. The look on her face—it's not the one people give him when they're annoyed or confused. It's that I want to understand you look.
And I don't like it.
Not because I think she's mine. Not because I don't want her to talk to other guys. But because for the first time, I felt a pull towards someone. I felt like I belonged with someone, and I don't even know anything about Hannah barely, but from the short few conversations we have had, It's like I've known her for years.
I feel like if my mom wanted me to be with someone, it would be a woman like Hannah. I don't know why I am getting so agitated about her talking to Sebastain, I know i'm not ready to be close and to love someone again, because that means I also have to be ready to lose someone again.
Sebastian says something else, and Hannah tilts her head. And now she's the one watching him. Studying him.
And I get this weird ache in my chest, like I missed my shot before I even realized I had one.
I glance down at my beer, suddenly bitter. I used to think I was immune to this stuff. Emotions. Attachments. But then Hannah showed up, weird and honest and bright in ways she doesn't even realize—and suddenly, I'm off my game.
And the worst part?
Sebastian doesn't even know he's playing.
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