Page 28

tides of tension

KIERAN

E llie’s here. Hoodie, jean shorts, sea salt clinging to her hair, moonlight brushing her skin. And those legs. Long, sun-kissed, and ridiculous. Somehow, even better than I remembered.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, her voice lighter, touched with surprise and something warmer underneath.

I laugh, still half-stunned. "Could ask you the same thing."

She shrugs, tucking her hands into the front of her hoodie. "Supposed to be a girls' trip," she says, smiling. "Naomi, Mia, one of Mia’s friends. But then we saw the poster for the party and, well. Here we are."

That soft sparkle in her eyes floors me, and I can’t help the grin that pulls across my face. "Fate’s got a hell of a sense of humour."

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. And then, like a damn hurricane, Naomi whirls in. “What in the flying shit-balls?!”

I turn just in time to see her charging toward us, expression a full tragedy of disbelief. Ellie groans beside me, pinching the bridge of her nose and laughing under her breath. She slips just out of arm’s reach. I already miss her without meaning to.

Naomi stops dead a few feet away, throwing her hands up dramatically. " Seriously ?! You? Here? Of all places?!"

I flash her a crooked grin. "Hey, Naomi."

She points between Ellie and me like she’s solving a murder case. "Of course it’s you. Of course. "

Ellie’s still laughing, covering her face like she can’t believe it either.

Naomi flicks her gaze between us one more time, then folds her arms with a smug, shit-eating grin. "You two are actual magnets. It’s disturbing."

I chuckle low in my throat, rubbing the back of my neck, because... she’s not wrong.

Naomi hooks her arm through Ellie’s and tugs her forward. "Alright. Come on. Music, drinks, this vibe? It’s criminal not to lean in."

I catch Ellie’s eye as she lets Naomi lead her a step ahead. She throws me a small smile, one that lands dead-centre in my chest.

I fall into step beside them without thinking.

The party surges louder ahead of us, and the bonfire throws gold sparks into the night. Theo is laughing so hard he nearly spills whatever horror is in his cup. The guys are wild, loose, and electric.

I call out over the music, “Look who I found.”

Luca’s head snaps around, and the grin that explodes across his face is nothing short of chaotic joy. "Ellie Carter! As I live and fucking breathe."

Before she can even respond, Theo hurtles toward her like a human golden retriever, lifting her clean off the ground in a bear hug.

"FUCK YES!" he howls. "This night just got better!" He spins her once before setting her down, then turns and slaps a double high-five into Naomi’s palms. "You both look dangerously hot. I’m intimidated."

Naomi flicks her hair like royalty. "You should be."

Ryder’s sprawled in the sand, the same blonde from earlier now firmly settled on his lap, her laugh high and breathy against his neck. He lifts his drink with a lazy grin, eyes catching the firelight. “Ladies,” he drawls. “Welcome to the chaos.”

Luca slings his arm around my shoulders and leans in close enough I can smell the rum and bonfire smoke on his skin. "It’s like gravity, man," he mutters, smirking. "You and her."

I roll my eyes. "Don’t start."

He just grins wider. "Too late."

And for the first time in too damn long, it feels like we're all exactly where we’re supposed to be.

The next hour is a blur in the best possible way. Laughter spills across the sand, blending into the crackle of the fire and the soft crash of the tide.

Theo invents a game called Fireball Volleyball that involves nothing more than someone hitting a half-deflated beach ball into the flames and then screaming when it catches fire.

Ryder starts an impromptu dance-off near the wireless speaker. Luca somehow gets roped into judging it, completely deadpan, holding up makeshift scores made from discarded napkins.

Someone passes around glow sticks. Naomi wears hers like a crown. Theo strings two together like nun-chucks and nearly takes someone’s head off.

And Ellie? She is glowing . The firelight dances across her skin, catching in her hair, turning her into something almost unreal. She moves through the crowd with that soft smile, always quick to laugh, always half-glancing toward me when she thinks I won’t notice.

I notice. Of course I do.

We’re barefoot, half-drunk on cheap tequila and sea air. Theo tries to climb onto someone's shoulders and immediately topples them both into the sand. While Naomi leads an aggressively chaotic conga line around the fire-pit.

I watch Ellie twirl under the fairy lights with Luca, arms thrown up, her laugh spilling freely into the night. She’s so close now. Close enough to touch. Close enough to break me clean open.

One of the guys from earlier passes the guitar around again, and I find myself reaching for it without thinking. And, like muscle memory, my hands find the strings.

The chords fall easily under my fingers, the notes carrying into the firelight. People sway without thinking. Conversations dip, the energy pulling tighter, sweeter.

I see Ellie out of the corner of my eye, settling cross-legged a few feet away, her chin resting in her hand, watching me. And God help me.

I strum through a few chords. Something familiar, something I know will draw her closer without even trying. And sure enough, she shifts toward me, slow and curious. I move the guitar out of the way and pat the sand between my legs, giving her a look that says, come on then .

She smirks, then closes the short distance between us, dropping down so close that the slightest brush of her knee against mine sends a jolt straight through me.

I tilt the guitar toward her and place it in her lap. “You ever played before?”

She shakes her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Always wanted to,” she admits. “Never had the time.”

I shift slightly as she settles in front of me, warm and close and entirely too much, all at once. “Time’s overrated.” I adjust the guitar in her lap, move close enough that my chest brushes her back, and reach around her, guiding her hands into place.

My touch is light, but it’s enough to make her still. “Here,” I murmur.

She lets out a laugh. “I’m probably going to be awful at this.”

I lean in, breathing in the perfume that clings to her skin. Her hair shifts in the breeze, brushing my cheek, and beneath it lingers a trace of lavender, clean and subtle, like she’s just stepped out of the shower hours ago and it never quite left her.

“You’ll do just fine. Trust me.” I guide her fingers gently, the tips of mine brushing over hers.

Her hands are soft and warm, tentative but willing.

My pulse trips, a thrum behind my ribs I can’t seem to ignore.

“Look,” I murmur, curling her fingers just slightly.

“You want enough pressure to press the string, but not so much that you crush it.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is,” I say. “Especially when you’ve got a good teacher.”

She glances over her shoulder at me, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Cocky.”

I smirk. “Confident.”

She plays another soft note, and I hum in approval.

“You’re a natural,” I say, and the word lands softer than I meant it to.

Then she turns her head just enough to look up at me from under her lashes.

Her hair brushes my cheek. Soft, wild, and dizzying in a way that completely wrecks my ability to think straight.

My throat tightens as her smile curves slow and dangerous. Her body leans into mine like we’ve always fit this way, like the years in between never happened.

This is it. This is the line. And I’m dancing right on the edge of it.

One breath closer, and I could taste her skin. If I tilt my head just slightly, my mouth would be on the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. I could fall into her without looking back.

But then she shifts—not closer. Away. Subtle, deliberate. Like she feels the charge in the air and needs to cut it dead before it sparks.

She doesn’t meet my eyes, doesn’t need to. That quiet retreat says enough.

A reminder. A boundary. One I’ve got no business flirting with.

Because she’s not mine.

Not anymore. Not ever, maybe.

She’s engaged. Living a life that doesn’t include me. And I’m sitting here like some lovesick idiot who forgot the way she smiled at me in another lifetime doesn’t mean a damn thing now.

God, I feel like such a dick.

So caught up in the ghost of what we were, in my own want, I didn’t stop to consider what it might look like.

What it might mean.

This isn’t a movie. There’s no swelling music or grand kiss. There’s just me—reaching for something that isn’t mine—and her, stepping away with the kind of grace I should’ve shown first.

I run a hand down my face. The air feels colder now. Heavy with everything I didn’t say.

And maybe that’s for the best.

So I pull the moment back into my chest and let it burn there, silent and unspoken.

“ELLIE CARTER. DRINKS. NOW!” Theo, with his impeccable timing, yells from across the fire.

Ellie laughs, then untangles herself from the guitar. From me. I let her go, even though my heart stays caught in the space she leaves behind. And then she’s gone, swept away by Theo and Ryder.

I sit there, hands ghosting over the strings where hers had been, every nerve in my body lit up and aching. And as I glance up at the sky, at the stars scattered recklessly and bright over the water, I exhale slowly.

Fuck . I'm so far gone.

A few minutes later, Naomi drops into the sand beside. She folds her legs neatly, stealing the last of my drink without even asking.

I don’t even bother fighting it. I’m too busy trying to get my heart to settle back into something resembling a normal rhythm.

Naomi says nothing at first. Just sits there, letting the music and laughter wrap around us like static. Then, softly… “So…”