Page 74 of That Last Summer

“Yes, she’s taking him home.... Excuse me? What? I can’t hear you....”—Marcos takes the towel I have on my shoulder and starts rubbing it over his phone—“You’re cutting out Alex, I can’t hear you—”

“Aaand... solved.” Marcos is smiling as he puts the cell phone back in his swimsuit pocket.

“Great. We’re going for a walk,” I tell the dog.

“I’ll stay here,” Jaime says. I guess he thinks I need space.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m good, don’t worry. Besides, I could use some time alone.”

“We’re going to pick up Hugo and go for lunch,” my brother tells Jaime. “Do you want to come with us?”

“I don’t think so.” The answer is sharp, and he starts walking in the opposite direction. “See you later, Cabanas!”

“Have fun!” Alicia calls to me and Dark as we walk away along the promenade.

We walk—sometimes run—directly to Jellyfish Cove; it’s the only place I’ll find the tranquility and solitude that my body and mind are craving.

We jump into the water as soon as we arrive—I take off my strapless dress only two seconds before diving in headfirst. We enjoy the sea and our reunion, play in and out of the water, and as a result we arrive at Alex’s house completely covered in sand. And when I say completely, I mean it: there are parts of my body where you can’t see my skin, and don’t get me started on how Dark looks. We’re exhausted too.

The gate is closed, so I press the small intercom on the wall. The sound of the metal door opening comes a second later; Alex knows it’s us, obviously. Either that, or he lets anyone into his house without checking. Or he has a video camera spying on potential intruders. I look around and over the gate, searching for it, but I don’t see one.

When the gate opens all the way and I take the first step inside, thousands of emotions run through my head and body. This is the last place I stood before I left four years ago. This garden. A garden that now looks exactly as, back then, I’d imagined it might one day: the blue pool; the wooden planks surrounding it, a couple of hammocks and the white light balls we bought together. The chlorophyll-green grass almost at ground level. The small living area with wooden benches dressed in white and navy blue around a huge square table. Everything we planned for the space that would be ours, just ours... is here.

I refuse to think about it so I shake my head, pushing out the images flooding my mind, and look up. That’s when I see him, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as if he’s the coolest guy in town.

Dark is already there, circling Alex and barking happily. I’m moving carefully though. Every step is a struggle, every single one. Because the instant I see him, everything goes to shit. My thoughts, my frustrations, my resolutions... All of it. Oh, the forbidden fruit.

Why does he have to be so handsome? Why does he have to smile like that? Why does he not smile at me like he’s smiling now? Why doesn’t he interact with me like he’s interacting with the dog? Why does he not look at me the way he used to? As if he could hug me just with his eyes, those eyes that made me fall in love with him.

“Where were you?” he asks me, his tone harsh. And I have to say, his attitude is a slap in the face. But it’s good for me. It banishes my most recent thoughts.

“Wandering around,” I say, distracted. I need to leave this house.

“Marcos called to say you’d bring Dark four hours ago.”

Four hours? Time really has flown by. I don’t wear a watch, but I didn’t know it was that late. Looking at the sky now, I can see the day is fading.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’d been that long.”

“And please tell your brother that it was me who taught him that towel trick,” he says, ignoring my apology. I don’t even know why I bother.

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” I’m tired. Beyond exhausted from fighting him.

We’re silent for a moment and yes, it’s one of the awkward ones.

“Do you want to come in and take a shower? You’re covered in sand. It’s even up your nose,” he says suddenly.

“No, thanks,” I answer, surprised by the offer. “I don’t want to fill your house with sand.”

It’s an excuse, of course it is. I just want to leave so I don’t have to see him looking at me the way he is. I don’t want to see him. Period. And I’m kind of wary. The offer is too sweet; I don’t trust him. Not for a second. Maybe he’ll let me in and then make me clean up every single grain of sand with my tongue.

“I don’t care about that,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Sorry, I don’t know which things you care about and which you don’t,” I reply, staring straight into his eyes.

Dark is pacing the garden, happy as he can be. Alex calls his name and makes a strange movement with his body. No, not his body in general. His leg.