Page 28

As I followed the rest of the group into the motel, my brain spun in a thousand directions, trying to figure out how I was supposed to casually convince Ethan to sneak out with me without looking like I was dragging him into an elaborate kidnapping.

Midnight was hours away. Enough time to overthink it. Enough time to chicken out.

Our motel room was just as underwhelming as I expected—walls the color of old coffee, a dim light fixture that buzzed faintly in the silence, and two beds with bedspreads so outdated they looked like relics from the last century.

But they were functional, and after a long day on the road, function was all we needed.

Ethan was already claiming his bed by the time I closed the door behind us. He tossed his bag aside, pulled out a wrinkled T-shirt, and muttered something about needing a shower. I watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water kicking in seconds later.

When he finally stepped out, his hair damp and shirt clinging slightly to his skin, he didn’t say a word. Just grabbed his laptop, propped it against his knees, and got to work—editing footage from the wild.

I did the same, settling into my spot, pulling my laptop onto my lap, and logging into my freelancing site.

It was one of those days—the non-sneaking days where we spent most of the night on our laptops.

The days where both of us got immersed in our own worlds, the quiet hum of clicking keys and shifting fabric filling the space.

Only, tonight, I wasn’t working.

Not really.

Instead, I was sitting there, staring at my screen, pretending to be focused when all my attention was locked onto one ridiculous, completely out-of-character thought: I had to make Ethan sneak out with me—not in the “let's sneak out” way (that would be too obvious) but in a nerdy conjure I hadn't figured out yet.

I had never, in all my days, been the one to suggest breaking the rules. If anything, I was the one stopping people from doing stupid things. I was the voice of reason.

And yet, here I was.

My fingers hovered uselessly over my keyboard, barely typing a thing. Every now and then, I snuck a glance at him.

Ethan was hunched over his laptop, shoulders a little lower than usual. Not slouched in that confident, lazy way—just... low. His expression unreadable, the glow from his screen painting shadows across his face.

Then, an idea crawled into my brain—bold, uninvited, and probably brilliant.

I cleared my throat, just loud enough for him to hear. “Huh. Apparently, the sea glows around here at night.”

His fingers paused mid-air. He didn’t move right away, didn’t shoot back some cocky one-liner like he normally would. Just… paused.

“Wait, what?” he said after a beat. Flat. Not confused, not excited. Just blank.

I glanced up innocently. “Hmm?”

He straightened, blinking slowly. “Did you say the sea glows?”

“Oh,” I replied, turning back to my screen like I hadn’t rehearsed this. “Yeah. Bioluminescence.

Tiny plankton or organisms lighting up the water or something. Nothing big.”

He stared for a second longer, then leaned back in his seat. “You mean that stretch we passed earlier?”

I shrugged. “That’s what it says here. Only happens on certain nights.

Super rare.” I lied. The sea glowed each and every night.

I turned my screen further away from him, in case the idea of creeping toward it was loading somewhere in his brain.

FYI the page on screen was blank, I was only recalling something I had read the day before the documentary began.

Then, I casually dismissed the topic like I hadn’t just dropped a loaded magical grenade.

He didn’t answer.

Then, slowly, something lit behind his eyes.

Not all at once. A flicker.

The kind of flicker you’d see in a campfire on the verge of catching flame. That signature Ethan spark trying to fight its way past the cloud that had settled over him today.

He smiled—small, like a secret. “We should go.”

I blinked. “What?”

He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. “We should see it. The glowing water. For the documentary.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, clutching my laptop like a shield.

He didn’t look at me. Just grabbed his hoodie.

“Yeah,” he said. “Feels like a night to remember.”

That shut me up.

Still, I had to protest on principle. “We have rules. Mr. Dax could be awake. Or watching. Or armed.”

He gave a lopsided grin, one corner of his mouth tugging up like it hadn’t been used in a while. “You’re trying too hard to say no. Which means you want to say yes.”

“I don’t!” I said, even though my heart had already leapt onto the escape bus. “I’m a rule-abiding academic weapon.”

“It’s glow-in-the-dark water, Ghost Boy. It’s practically begging to be recorded.”

“Since when did you start—”

“Since now,” he cut in. “Grab your shoes. We’re about to break some light laws.”

“This is a bad idea.”

He tilted his head. “You can always tell Dax you were dragged against your will by an irresistible alpha male.”

“I—what? That’s not a—”

““Too late, Ghost Boy,” he said, sliding towards the window like a gentleman with bad intentions. “Adventure waits. This is gonna be fun.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

But one thing was for sure.

Tonight, I was officially breaking character. Maybe not directly—but I had just lit the fuse on this whole thing.

Before I could reassert my moral high ground, I was stepping towards the window after him—half regretting it, fully exhilarated, and mentally composing my alibi in MLA format.

Sneaking out was usually easy, but today, jumping from the window was out of the question—unless we had a death wish. Ethan, in all his reckless glory, actually checked, peering over the edge before whistling low. “Yeah, that’s a no. Unless you wanna add ‘fractured spine’ to our list of problems.”

“Not particularly,” I muttered.

So, the hallway it was.

We moved quietly, keeping our footsteps light as we stepped out of our room. The motel wasn’t fancy—cheap carpeting, dim lighting, and walls so thin you could hear someone snoring two rooms down. But ironically, it was eerily silent.

Ethan frowned, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets as we walked. “Why’s it so quiet?”

I already knew the answer. Of course, the others were setting up his surprise. But he didn’t know that. And if I played this wrong, he’d start asking questions.

I shrugged, keeping my voice casual. “Maybe they sneaked out.”

Ethan snorted. “Without me? No way. I’m the bad influence of this trip.”

I fought back a smirk. He had a point.

We turned a corner, and that’s when things went from bad to worse.

Standing right in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed, was Mr. Dax.

Speaking of why we couldn't hear the snoring of four elephants in one from down the hall.

I nearly cursed out loud. This dwarf was impossible to slip past. And worse? Now that he caught us sneaking out, he’d have no hesitation in marching us straight to Principal Catherine.

Ethan, completely unfazed, shot me a glance. “Welp.”

Fantastic. That's all he could say.”

I kept my expression neutral as we walked up to Mr. Dax, already thinking through possible escape routes. Lying outright was too risky. But telling the truth—especially the birthday part—was off the table.

So, I had to be clever.

Mr. Dax squinted at us. “And where exactly do you two think you’re going?”

“Ah,” I started, faking a smile like it could somehow make me sound more convincing. “Funny story.”

Ethan casually leaned against the wall, watching me like I was a contestant in some kind of survival game.

Mr. Dax’s frown deepened. “It better be very funny.”

Alright. Nerd mode: activated.

“Well,” I began, “we were just on our way to conduct an observational field study. You see, according to recent meteorological reports, the coastal region experiences significant atmospheric changes at night. And it glows. As dedicated students of academia, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to collect real-time data on oceanic wind patterns, why it glows, how it glows, and its correlation with—”

“Clark,” Ethan interrupted, “just say we’re going to the beach.”

I shot him a look. Unhelpful.

Mr. Dax stared at me, unimpressed. “Let me get this straight. You expect me to believe that you two—one who runs purely on chaos and other who is literal bad luck—are going to ‘study’ the beach?”

“Yes, it's part of the documentary,” I said without hesitation.

Ethan nodded sagely. “Big wind and glowing sea fans, us.”

I resisted the urge to groan.

Mr. Dax sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he already regretted his life choices. “And this couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Morning conditions won’t provide the same data,” I said quickly. “We need nighttime to see the actual glow and its influences.”

Ethan crossed his arms, nodding along. “Yeah. Science and stuff.”

Mr. Dax eyed me suspiciously. “And if I say no?”

I grinned again—this time more sheepishly. “Then you’d be personally hindering a very promising nature enquiry for the documentary.”

Mr. Dax exhaled loudly. “Fine.”

He grumbled under his breath before stepping aside. “Make it quick.”

We didn’t wait for him to change his mind.

As soon as we turned the corner, Ethan grinned. “I cannot believe that actually worked.”

I snuck a glare at him, fighting back a smirk. “Never underestimate the power of well-placed academic nonsense.”

Ethan chuckled, throwing an arm around my shoulders as we made our way toward the exit. “You are so much worse than you pretend to be, nerd.”

I ignored the warmth in my face and pushed him off. “Shut up and keep walking.”

For someone who had never once called for a sneak-out, I was doing suspiciously well at leading one.

The problem? I had no idea where I was actually going.

I knew I had seen a beach earlier—just a few steps from the rusty motel—but my sense of direction was about as reliable as Ethan’s ability to stay out of trouble. Which, for the record, was not reliable at all.

Still, I walked like I had a plan, and Ethan—who was enjoying every second of my apparent descent into crime—followed without question.

We crossed the quiet road, walked past some bushes, and stepped onto the soft sand of the beach. A salty breeze drifted past, ruffling my hoodie, and the moon cast a silver sheen over the blue-glowing waves of the enchanted waters.

The beach was empty, save for a dim, flickering fire further down the shore.

I spotted it immediately and knew it had to be Max’s doing. The others were here. Hiding. Waiting.

Ethan, oblivious, kicked off his shoes and wandered closer to the waves. “Man, this is kinda nice.”

He crouched at the shoreline, mesmerized as the water glimmered with eerie blue light, every splash lighting up like stardust. “Whoa… this is it, huh? The glowing sea.”

He scooped up a handful of glowing water and let it fall through his fingers, grinning like a kid. “This is insane.”

I hesitated for just a second.

Should I warn him?

...Nah.

I led him closer to the fire, pretending I didn’t notice the muffled giggles hiding in the shadows.

Ethan didn’t suspect a thing. “So, what—”

“SURPRISE!”

Chaos erupted.

People jumped out from behind rocks, trees, and sand dunes, launching chunks of cake through the air.

Ethan barely had time to react before a glob of frosting smacked him right in the face. Another piece nailed me on the shoulder.

“What the—” Ethan sputtered, wiping cake from his cheek.

“Happy Birthday, dumbass!” Max yelled, hurling another piece.

Ethan blinked, still processing. “Wait. What?”

Joy, laughing uncontrollably, threw her arm around his shoulders. “Did you seriously not realize we were planning something?”

Ethan wiped frosting off his face, staring at the group—at the fire, at the cake-covered disaster zone, at the glowing sea just beyond. “But—Clark said—”

Everyone turned to me.

I, still standing there with a chunk of cake stuck to my hoodie. “I kinda manipulated him.”

Ethan gawked at me. “You what?”

“Get used to it,” I muttered.

Then, before I could react, he grabbed a chunk of cake from his hoodie and smeared it straight across my face.

“Ethan—”

“Oops.” He grinned. “Reflex.”

The others erupted into cheers, laughter, and more cake warfare.

I sighed, wiping frosting off my face. “This is exactly why I don’t do surprise parties.”

Ethan, still grinning, pulled me into the mess anyway.