“You’re afraid of the dirt, but you know it’s there.” His mouth trails a line across my temple. “And when you get it all over you, Clay, I want to be there.”

I gaze into his eyes, finally seeing something in him I didn’t before. I haven’t been in as much control as I thought.

And I’m not completely unexcited by that prospect.

He picks me up, cocking his head and surveying me like a snake. “Who’s giving it to you?” he asks. “I know you’re not a virgin anymore, and I know it was recently.”

Instead of getting nervous, though, I smile. It’s nice not to have the hard discussions. I’m glad he knows.

“I won’t tell,” he whispers. “I just want to hear about it. Where does he do it to you at?”

She does it to me in secret.

“In a car?” he presses. “In a cheap motel? One of the Jaeger boys, maybe?”

I warm between my thighs, thinking about the Jaeger girl and how much more I want to touch her. He’s got the wrong details, but he’s on the right path.

“I’m not jealous,” he assures before a gleam hits his eyes. “I’m hard.”

I don’t feel it, but I take his word for it. I try to push out of his hold, not liking the weight of hanging from his arms. A reminder that he can always overpower me.

“I’ll keep your secrets,” he says. “You keep mine, and what a team we’ll be.”

I study him, kind of hating him for trying to make this so easy on me. Like my grandmother, he’s absolutely fine with me having everything I want as long I shut up about it.

Maybe this is my future. The one way I get to keep Liv. How many husbands will be as understanding?

“That’s enough, you two,” Broderick snaps.

Thunder rolls across the sky, and I swear I can feel it vibrate through the room as Callum drops me to my feet. He laughs, because everyone’s heads are twisting around, trying to see what the hell we’re doing.

“All right!” the dance teacher claps. “That’s enough for today! Practice at home this weekend. Chin up.” She tilts her chin up, demonstrating. “Watch your footwork and feel free to join my group class this Sunday afternoon for a little extra practice!”

Everyone heads for their gear and to change back into their shoes, and Callum pulls me back into him, hugging my back. “I want to see you really dance now.”

I shove his hands away, spinning around and walking backward for the chairs. “All you do is talk.”

His eyebrow arches up, and I catch a smile before I spin around and get my gear.

I don’t change my clothes, simply slipping on my shoes and taking my bag before we jet down the stairs and out the door. We step onto the deserted sidewalk, wind kicking up debris and the palms on the trees flapping. My hair flies around me, and he tosses me a look over the hood of his car. I should take my own ride, but… It doesn’t get old. Fucking with her head. Forcing her hand. I climb in, tossing my duffel onto the floor.

Amy and a couple other girls pile into the back, giggling as the wind whips under their skirts, and Callum fires up the engine as Amy passes me a flask from the back seat.

I hesitate, feeling Callum’s eyes on me. Alcohol has a way of making you do shit you wouldn’t normally do, and I should keep a clear head around him.

But my head has never been clear. Ever. Screw it. I close my eyes, tears I didn’t realize were there gathering at the corners as I tip the flask back and swallow a mouthful. Then another. And one more.

“Hey!” Amy laughs, tapping my shoulder. “Save some for me.”

“Let’s go!” Callum calls out, shifting the car into gear, and laughter fills the back seat as he speeds off.

Where the hell is Krisjen? Meet you at lighthouse? I text her. I should give her a verbal kick in the ass for doing my job and bringing Liv to the away game without speaking to her captain, but I can’t be mad about how that night turned out. Despite the fact that we still lost.

I reach over the seat, snatching the flask out of Amy’s hand as I take another drink, finishing off the last of it. Already, the warmth of it starts to coat my veins like a nice, thick syrup, and I relax a little.

I don’t give a shit that Krisjen went over my head, or that Callum wants to watch me roll around in the mud like a pig for his entertainment.

I don’t care that I had sex for the first time last week and it was with a girl, and I don’t care that it keeps hurting every moment I realize that some part of me isn’t touching some part of her.

I toss the flask back into Amy’s lap as we cruise across the tracks, “Cool Girl” playing on the stereo and the sky darkening to a steel gray. Clouds overlap clouds as the sea in the distance fills the air with its scent, nice and thick so that when you inhale, it’s almost like you’re eating.

I lie my head back, enjoying it while I can. I’ll miss this weather. I hate the cold, and while North Carolina isn’t the North, it’s north. Florida is south, but it’s not the South in the same way other states are.

It’s Miami and Cuban sandwiches. Music and history. Explorers and conquerors. Tacky-ass mailboxes and flip flops all year long.

It’s how we’re vampires who love the night, because the sun’s not beating down on us. It’s the swamps—the mangroves, the shade and the hidden spaces underneath the Spanish moss, the tall birds with their long legs quiet and still in the calm waters…

It’s the summer monsoons and the reptiles that keep you sweating and your heart jumping out of your chest. It’s laughing at the ‘Florida Man’ jokes right alongside the Yankees, knowing full well come retirement, they’ll be jetting down here to play golf, eat the seafood, and stay warm, because nothing beats the subtropics.

I know college isn’t forever. I can always come home. And until recently, I wasn’t really dreading leaving.

But now, I’m counting the days like an inmate on death row. Before I know it, a week has passed. Then a month. Soon, it’ll be summer, and I’ll be leaving a part of my heart behind. Everything feels wrong.

“Hell yeah!” Callum howls out the window to Milo as he swings into a spot on the side of the dirt road.

“Yay!” Amy squeals. Everyone in the back seat scrambles to get out, and I exit the car, pulling my Polo over my head and tossing it into the vehicle.

The lighthouse rises above us, a coral pink barely discernible against the black sky, and I dig my crossbody bag out of my duffel and slip it over my head before slamming the door. Everyone else runs ahead, while Callum falls in at my side, scanning down my tank top and taking my hand. “Let’s go do some stupid shit,” he says.

I close my eyes, inhaling the air charged with whatever’s brewing tonight, smelling more than just fucking rain. Storms carry promise. Something—anything—is about to happen, and people are always on the verge. Ready to run. Ready to be surprised.

“Fall” by The Bug spills out of the lighthouse, the steps leading up the foundation to the open door already filled with people standing around or coming and going. We walk into the structure, the sounds of the waves outside crashing onto the beach, but you can barely hear it as we enter a cave of darkness and smoke, the air thin with so many bodies crowded into such a small space. Speakers hang over the sides of the spiral staircase, and bodies I can’t identify loiter on the steps as far up as I can see.