𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾

ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

The fire danced in the middle of the beach, alive and breathing like it had a pulse of its own.

Emberlyn stood just outside its direct glow, nursing a Coke and listening to a group of girls giggle about some guy's weak attempt to flirt with Shayla earlier.

The sea breeze was warm and restless, and the smoke curled toward the stars in lazy spirals.

She wasn't really paying attention to the conversation—just nodding, occasionally laughing when she was supposed to.

She felt free. For the first time all week, there were no parents, no tutors , Just music, a crackling fire, and the salty air.

Until it all went to hell in under ten seconds.

"What are you doing here?!"

Steven's voice sliced clean through the music and laughter.

Emberlyn blinked, straightened, and scanned the crowd. She spotted him—storming across the sand like he owned the coastline, fury painted all over his face.

"And I—I'm sorry, wh-what are you wearing?" he stammered, eyes wide, locked on Belly.

Belly stood near the edge of the bonfire crowd, a red solo cup in her hand and a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face

. She was glowing—sun-kissed and wide-eyed in a dress that was too mature for her usual wardrobe.

But she looked good. Stunning, even. And Emberlyn could already feel Steven's internal meltdown boiling over.

"I invited her," said some random guy standing next to Belly. He sounded confused but not confrontational. "Who the fuck are you?"

Steven stepped forward like he might actually punch someone. "I'm her brother. She's fifteen, you pedo."

Belly immediately snapped back, "I'm—I'm almost sixteen!"

The guy backed off. "My bad."

Steven reached for her arm. "Jesus Christ. Belly, come on. What are you doing?"

"Will you let go of me, please?" Belly tried to pull away.

"What are you doing? No..."

"You're embarrassing me," she hissed, cheeks flushed.

"I'm embarrassing? You're embarrassing," Steven snapped, voice getting louder.

"Why am I embarrassing?!"

"Quit embarrassing yourself. Are you kidding me?!"

"Stop it! Steven!" Belly shouted.

And then—her ankle must've caught on something. She stumbled hard and dropped straight into the sand.

Emberlyn was moving before she even realized it.

She shoved past two people, tossing her drink to the side, and dropped to her knees beside Belly.

"What are you doing here?!" she said, breathless, checking her over.

Steven crouched beside them too, panicked. "Are you okay?"

"She's fine," Emberlyn snapped, shooting Steven a glare. "You need to chill."

Belly sat up with a wince, brushing hair from her eyes. Emberlyn took her arm gently and helped her to her feet.

"God, I'm glad you're here," Emberlyn said with a small, crooked smile. "And damn, that dress? You look good."

Belly laughed, breathless and flushed. "thanks."

They both turned at the same time when they heard a familiar voice.

"Belly?"

Conrads voice rang , He was standing maybe twenty feet away. Emberlyn's stomach turned as she realized he had just stopped kissing Nicole .

Emberyln blinked, like the air had been punched out of her.

Belly leaned closer and whispered, "Who is that bitch with your man?"

"I thought you hated the Red Sox," Belly called out, her voice wobbling slightly.

The brunette raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Who are you?"

Emberlyn stepped forward slightly, protective. "Who are we, ha—who the fuck are you?"

The girl didn't flinch. "Conrad and I went to the deb ball together last summer."

Conrad looked uncomfortable. "It was after you guys left to take Steven to look at colleges and uh—when August and your dad had that golf thing."

Emberlyn crossed her arms. "You said deb balls were bullshit."

"And that all debs are sheep," Belly added.

"I didn't—" Conrad sighed. "You're both such brats."

Belly tilted her chin up. "Well, you're an asshole."

"And a lying dick."

The drama was interrupted by August and Jeremiah arriving like golden retrievers in human form.

"Belly!" August ran up, grinning. "You came! Great, we can all hang out, you guys."

Steven groaned, already fuming again. "I'm about to take her home."

"What?!" Belly nearly yelled.

Steven was firm. "Yeah, we're leaving. Are you kidding me?"

"Okay, Steven, chill out," August said, trying to ease the tension.

Emberlyn had had enough of Steven for the night. "Go hang out with Shayla or something. You're harshing the whole vibe."

"Let's go," Shayla said, arriving right on cue to rescue the scene. "Come on."

Steven pointed a finger. "Fine. But just stay right here and don't talk to anybody."

Jeremiah stepped in before Belly exploded. "Okay. All right. Chill."

But Belly didn't hold back. She flipped him off. "Fuck you!"

There was an audible reaction from the crowd.

"Oooh!"

August let out a breathless laugh. "Wow."

Jeremiah leaned closer. "Listen, for one—I'm really happy you're here."

"Me too," August added, still watching her with that warm, disarming grin.

"Jeremiah!" Some chick called in the distance.

"Be right back," he said before jogging off.

Emberlyn leaned close to August. "I need a break. Gonna sit by the water for a sec."

"Yeah, yeah," August nodded. "Take your time. Belly—you wanna walk around? No drinking though."

"I'd love that," Belly said with a smile, still dazed from the emotional whiplash.

Emberlyn made her way down the beach.

The music faded behind her, replaced by the soft crash of waves and the rustling dune grass. She found a quiet spot where the moonlight spilled across the water and dropped into the sand with a sigh.

For the first time all night, she let herself feel.

The chaos.

The Conrad-Belly-Nicole mess. Steven being an overprotective tool.

It was like watching a storm happen from the eye of it—close enough to feel the pressure but too far to fix any of it.

"Hey."

The voice was low, hesitant but warm.

She turned.

A guy stood a few feet away, his silhouette outlined by the moon.

He was Tall, tousled dark curls, hands shoved in the pockets of a worn hoodie, sneakers half buried in the sand.

His eyes caught hers, not in a cheesy, flirtatious way—but like he genuinely didn't expect to find anyone here.

"You okay?" he asked. "Or just hiding from the fire pit fallout?"

Emberlyn raised an eyebrow. "Is it that obvious?"

He smiled. "A little. You looked like you'd rather be talking to a dolphin than half those people."

She let out a laugh, surprised. "You're not wrong."

He stepped closer but kept a respectful distance. "I'm Charlie."

"Emberlyn," she replied.

"Cool name. Sounds like a girl in a novel who carries around secrets and knives."

"Not far off," she said, smirking.

He laughed, toeing at the sand. "My cousin dragged me here. I was promised s'mores and ended up in a live episode of The O.C."

Emberlyn smiled genuinely. "I love that show "

They sat there, letting the ocean fill the silence. It wasn't awkward—it was easy. Like she could breathe again.

Then someone shouted from up the beach—

"Copa!"

Everything exploded. Screams, people sprinting, drinks spilling, music cutting off mid-beat.

Charlie stood and held out his hand with a quick grin. "Run now"

Charlie's voice was sharp but light, and Emberlyn didn't hesitate. She scrambled to her feet, giggling as adrenaline and tequila kicked in. He grabbed her hand without a second thought, and they took off barefoot across the sand, dodging blankets and beer cans and wide-eyed teens who hadn't processed the "cops!" warning yet.

The night air whipped through her hair as Emberlyn let out a surprised laugh, holding tight to this stranger's hand like it was the only steady thing around.

They didn't stop until they were halfway down the beach, far enough that the music and shouting had dulled into background noise. Emberlyn bent over slightly, catching her breath between laughs. "Jesus—okay—what the hell just happened?"

Charlie turned to her, breathless and grinning. "A cinematic getaway. Let's from the beginning shall we ?"

"You're ridiculous," she said, still smiling. "Who even are you?"

"Charlie Grayson," he said with an exaggerated little bow. "Lifelong Cousins visitor. Devoted chess hater. Bad at poker but excellent at pretending not to be."

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Well, Charlie Grayson, you have excellent instincts for evacuation. I'm Emberlyn."

"Beautiful name," he said, and somehow it didn't sound cheesy.

She sat back down in the sand, this time voluntarily.

He joined her, settling close but not too close — just enough to feel like it was intentional. The ocean lapped quietly beside them, the moon casting a soft silver light across the waves and her sun-kissed skin.

"You go to Cousins High?" he asked.

"God, no. I come here every summer - uh family friends"

He smiled. "Clearly."

They talked easily — the kind of talk that didn't feel like effort.

About music, stupid childhood stories, his failed attempt at surfing last week.

At some point, he plucked a stick from the sand and started drawing lazy shapes, and she leaned her head back to look at the stars.

Then he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Okay, I'm not smooth but... can I get your number? Or should I pretend I forgot to ask and bump into you 'accidentally' tomorrow?"

Emberlyn laughed. "I'd rather not leave it up to fate."

They exchanged phones, typing their numbers in.

Her contact name on his screen: beach girl

His on hers: run now Grayson

They were just leaning into a quiet smile when—

"Emberlyn!"

They both turned.

August was jogging toward them, shirt half-unbuttoned, curls disheveled, face full of that same chaotic energy he'd always carried.

Emberlyn stood up. "What now?"

He didn't stop moving. "Car. Now. We need as much help as we can get."

She blinked. "With what?"

"Drunk Connie. Like drunk drunk Connie. He fought some guy over beer before the cops pulled . He called Jeremiah a 'glowy ducking .' I don't even know. Jeremiah driving but we need backup — moral support, muscle, bribery, I don't know."

Charlie snorted from beside her. "Do I even want to ask?"

August gave him a sideways glance. "Who's this?"

"Charlie. He helped me escape the cops," Emberlyn said breezily. "Long story."

August looked between them, then pointed at her. "Bring him if you want, but we gotta go. Now."

She looked at Charlie. "Wanna meet the full cast of chaos?"

He grinned. "Only if you promise to protect me."

"No promises."

They took off together, racing toward the parking lot where the rest of the night — and one very drunk Conrad Fisher — awaited.