Nicholas
The ocean had always been my escape.
Some people run.
Some drive until the road runs out.
Me? I swim until my arms ache and my lungs burn, until the salt stings my eyes enough to blur the world. Out there, beneath the water, it's quiet and quiet is something I don't get much of anymore.
I don't know when I started needing it like this, needing to disappear for a while. Maybe it was the constant noise of the party scene Taylor liked to drag me to. Or maybe it was Taylor herself.
She says she loves me and I believe she does but her love has rules.
Places I can go.
People I can talk to.
Even the way I spend my time is measured, as if every minute I'm away from her is something that needs to be explained.
And I do explain.
Every time.
But tonight, after slipping away from the party without telling her, I knew I'd pay for it later.
The waves were cold, biting against my skin, but I stayed until my body was a dull hum of exhaustion. When I finally came up for air and pushed myself toward shore, I saw her.
A girl, standing alone at the water's edge.
She was humming? No, not just humming, singing, though it was soft enough to blend with the sound of the waves. She didn't look at me right away, just stared out into the dark, like she was listening to something far away.
I almost turned away.
Strangers meant questions, and questions had a way of traveling back to Taylor. But something about her made me stay. Maybe it was the way she didn't seem startled when I walked out of the water like some kind of shipwrecked idiot. Or maybe it was the fact that, in that moment, she felt like the quiet I'd been searching for all night.
We talked.
It wasn't anything deep, just small things, harmless things. We joked about the music at the party, traded sarcastic remarks about how insane the crowd probably was by now. She laughed, and God, it was the kind of laugh you couldn't fake. Warm, unpracticed, the sort of sound that makes you want to hear it again just to see if it was as good the second time.
I didn't even realize how much I'd been leaning toward her until
"Nicholas! What the hell are you doing here?"
Her voice snapped the night in half.
Taylor.
She was marching toward us, eyes sharp and unblinking, the way they always were when she thought she'd caught me doing something wrong.
Her words weren't just a question, they were a verdict.
I tried to explain, but before I could, the girl stepped back, her expression polite but unreadable. She didn't defend me exactly, but she didn't back away in shame either. She just… removed herself from the moment, like she understood it wasn't her fight.
By the time she turned and headed toward the party, I almost called after her. I almost asked her name. Almost asked if she'd be staying long.
But I didn't.
Taylor was already beside me, her hand looping through my arm like it always did after she'd made her point. She started talking not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but sharp enough for me to feel every word.
I nodded when she wanted me to nod. Answered when she expected an answer. But my mind wasn't with her. It was still back at the shoreline, watching a girl I didn't know disappear into the night.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, I had the strange feeling that wouldn't be the last time I saw her.
People think relationships are about trust. Mine's about boundaries or rather, the lack of them.
Taylor has always been like this… intense. Protective in a way that feels more like surveillance. She needs to know where I am, who I'm with, and why I didn't answer her text within two minutes. If I don't pick up her calls, she assumes the worst. If I'm late, she assumes worse than the worst.
And yet, I stay. Not just because I've gotten used to it, but because walking away would cost more than I'm ready to lose. Our families are connected; her father's business is tightly intertwined with mine, and being with her keeps certain doors open, doors that could help our company grow in ways we've been working toward for years.
It's not romantic, but it's practical. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.
Taylor was still fuming when we walked back toward the house. Her heels sank slightly into the sand with every step, and I kept my gaze forward, half-listening to whatever she was muttering under her breath. The music from the party grew louder, wrapping around us like static.
When we stepped inside, the crowd swallowed us whole. The music was louder now, the air thick with heat and perfume. I glanced around, not really sure what I was looking for.
No sign of her.
Maybe she'd gone back to the party hours ago. Maybe she'd left. Either way, the moment had already slipped away, carried off as quietly as the tide.