Page 39 of The Summer We Kept Secrets (The Destin Diaries #4)
I just turned off my flashlight because it’s almost one in the morning and Mom would have a fit if she caught me up this late, but I had to get this down while it’s still fresh.
Tessa just came in, barefoot and sand-dusted, and nearly stepped on Crista, who is asleep in her classic starfish formation between our beds.
I was waiting up—not intentionally, but sort of listening for the back door to creak.
Tessa didn’t notice I was awake until I whispered, “What happened?”
She didn’t even pretend not to know what I meant. Just sat down on the edge of her bed like all the air had gone out of her. Her hair smelled like bonfire and ocean. Her lip gloss was gone.
Tonight we all went down for a last-of-summer beach bonfire.
Kate made s’mores like she was being graded on them.
Peter played guitar badly (but at least not the Eagles this time), and I spent most of the night trying to keep the wind from blowing marshmallow ash into my eye.
Around 9:30, three guys showed up — brothers in a family staying at the Seabreeze condos for the week.
One of them—a 16-year-old with sun-bleached hair and eyelashes that should be illegal—immediately locked onto Tessa.
His name was Kyle. Of course it was.
But we renamed him “Luke” (as in Perry, as in 90210, as in CUTE with a capital Q, as in exactly what Tessa said).
Kate rolled her eyes so hard at that I thought she might pull a muscle. I don’t blame her. Luke/Kyle was cute.
Naturally, he zeroed in on Tessa. Well, she had broken out a Billabong crop top like she was a surfer queen and wore that little gold anklet which is like catnip to boys. She laughed at his dumb jokes (which were beyond dumb—what Kate calls DD’s—double digit IQ).
He kept leaning closer like Tessa was some exotic foreign creature he was desperate to impress. He asked all about Ithaca like he was seriously considering transferring high schools just for the chance to bump into her at a Wegmans.
Eventually, the two of them wandered down toward the water —not out of sight or anything, just sitting on the damp sand with their knees up and their heads tipped back like they were watching stars or planning a wedding.
The rest of us started packing up around 10:30.
Kate said she wasn’t going to wait around to see if Luke Perry had a curfew.
It must have been midnight, ’cause Tessa came in a few minutes later.
She tried to be quiet, even though I expected her to sigh and swoon and do that thing where she reenacts every moment like she’s starring in a movie.
She didn’t.
She sat down and told me—so quietly I almost missed it—that she kissed him.
Not her first kiss. (Which, okay, shocking , but also not shocking.) But then she said…he wanted more.
I didn’t ask what “more” meant. I’m fifteen. I know what it means.
She shook her head and told me she said no and stopped kissing him.
She said he was cool about it — joked that he’d come warm her up when he visited Ithaca, which made both of us say “eww” at the same time.
But then she just looked so sad and said, “Is that all boys will ever want?”
How would I know? The only boy who ever sort of flirted with me did it by launching a grape into my soda.
Then she said something I’ll never forget: “I want someone to actually like me. Like, for real.”
And that’s when I realized Tessa—who is sparkly and makes the world spin faster—might be lonelier than any of us. She’s the girl everyone looks at, but maybe no one really sees.
She laid down a minute ago. Turned toward the wall. I heard her sniff—just once—like she was trying to bury it in the pillow. I pretended to be asleep. But I felt something weird happen in my chest.
Because I always thought girls like Tessa didn’t cry. Guess they do.
Love,
Viv