By late afternoon, the air outside was thick with that kind of heat that turns everything golden and lazy. Even the seagulls sounded tired. I tossed a tote bag over my shoulder, shoved in a notebook, sunglasses, and gum, then slipped on my beat-up sneakers. The sand was probably going to sneak into them again, but at this point, we had an agreement.
I locked the door behind me and texted the group chat:
Me: On the way. Bring something cold. And sweet. Or I riot.
Maya responded immediately.
Maya: I got popsicles. Also I'm wearing the shirt you hate. Be scared.
Rey was slower.
Rey: debating if socks and sandals are a bold statement or a cry for help
Me: both. see you soon.
The boardwalk was only a fifteen-minute walk, but I took my time. Everything felt slower in summer — like the world had decided to breathe with its mouth open. Kids screamed in the distance. Bikes wheeled past. A dog barked joyfully at a pigeon. It was all just… noise. Comforting, forgettable, real.
I spotted them sitting under the tall blue umbrella we always claimed near the rocks. Maya waved a melted cherry popsicle at me like a sword. Rey had a sketchpad open on his lap and his sunglasses sliding off his nose.
"Look who actually showed up," Maya teased as I dropped onto the towel beside her. "I thought maybe you got sucked into one of your poetry portals."
"Almost," I said, flopping back on the blanket. "But the waffles at home weren't loyal enough to keep me."
"She's been dramatic all day," Rey said mildly, not looking up from his sketching. "I support it."
I stretched out my legs, staring at the sky. "What's the opposite of dramatic?"
"Emotionally constipated," Maya offered.
"Rey," I said, without missing a beat.
He grinned. "Rude. True. But rude."
Maya passed me a half-melted grape popsicle. "Here. Eat. You look like a ghost who writes sonnets."
I took it, letting the cold hit my tongue. "Thanks. I didn't sleep great."
Maya looked at me sideways. "Everything okay?"
I almost told her. About the note. About Liam. About the ache in my chest I hadn't figured out how to name. But I just shrugged.
"I'm just… thinking a lot lately."
Rey looked up at that. "About college?"
I nodded slowly. "And everything else. My mom wants to talk about it tonight. Like, serious talk."
Maya let out a groan. "Ugh. Parents and their 'serious talks.' It's like they save them all for after senior year like they were waiting to drop a playlist of emotional lectures."
"Volume One: 'When I Was Your Age,'" Rey added.
"Featuring the hit single: 'You'll Thank Me Later,'" I said.
We all laughed, but it was soft — a kind of tired laughter, like we were all secretly carrying something we didn't know how to say out loud yet.
Then Maya nudged me gently. "Hey. For real though… whatever's on your mind? You don't have to go through it alone."
"Yeah," Rey said. "Even if you want to stay quiet about it… we're here. Always."
And just like that, I felt that familiar thing again — that fragile, golden thread between the three of us. The thing that made me feel like no matter how much the world shifted under our feet, I wasn't completely falling.
"I know," I whispered. "Thanks."
Maya tossed her popsicle stick like a javelin into the sand. "Anyway, enough feelings. Let's bury Rey in sand."
"I beg your pardon?" Rey said.
"Too late," I grinned, already reaching for the beach pail. "You brought this on yourself, sock-sandal man."
And for a little while, under the fading sun and the sound of our laughter echoing across the beach, I let the worries wait.