chapter twenty-nine

harris

I feel like such a piece of shit. Why did I jump into the quarry? And why did I make Seb feel like he had to too?

I can't describe the exact feeling that overcame me. I was looking down at the quarry waters, and it just ... it looked so clear. So clear, and pristine, and so, so warm. And in my head, the whole "toxic waters" thing didn't even matter. Just a few minutes would be fine. Others have done it. Repeatedly. And they've had harmless fun each time. But I shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have jumped, and definitely shouldn't have pressed Seb into following along behind me.

I'm drying off as I run down the side of the hill, still barefoot. There's no one in our area of Lake Franz, so there's no one to see me snatch up me and Seb's shoes. I'm holding a shit ton of stuff in my arms—our towels, our shoes, Seb's keys. I toss them all onto the passenger seat, except for my towel, which I set down on the driver's seat so that the icky quarry water soaking my swim trunks doesn't completely ruin Seb's leather seats. I hope.

I pull out from the parking lot, headed to the little road I know he's bound to be taking. And sure enough, there he is, walking barefoot and looking completely pissed off. Which, honestly, a very valid response. I feel terrible.

I unlock the doors as I pull up alongside him and toss the truck into park. "You wanna drive?" I call out of the rolled-down window.

Seb just shakes his head and hops into the passenger side. Once again, he doesn't move the seat back, so his knees are pressed up against the dash. I almost say something, but with the way he's glowering, decide that now might not be the best time.

"My place?" I ask. I wouldn't be surprised if he wants to go home. I feel like an asshole.

"Yeah, that works." He's staring out the window. I've never seen him like this, not since we've started spending time together. We're into July now—it's the fourteenth today—so it's been over a month. This is so unlike him.

I fucked up.

I turn up his stereo. It blasts Fruit Bats' Humbug Mountain Song, something I know is one of Seb's favorites. But he reaches over and clicks a different CD slot. The first song starts playing, and okay. Did not know he was an Enya fan.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

"I'll be fine," he mutters. "I just wanna fucking shower. I feel gross."

"I really am sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you like that. I—"

"You didn't pressure me," Seb says. Which is so untrue. I feel like I definitely did, even if it was just a little bit. "I'm an adult. You didn't force me to jump. I wanted to. Seriously"

"But you wouldn't have if not for me. So, I'm sorry I was so insistent. I pestered you, and—"

"Let it go, Harrison." I blink. He's never used my full name before, not that I can recall. "I just wanna go shower."

"You can take my bathroom," I tell him, because I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to shower with me right now. "I'll take my mom's."

"Thanks." Yet another mumble. He is so pissed. And, seriously, I don't blame him.

The rest of the drive back is completely silent. I don't want to make him think that I'm mad at him, or that I'm trying to be spiteful because I can't handle him being mad at me. If anything, I'm mad at myself. I deserve it right now. Even though Seb insists that it's fine, it's not. I feel terrible. I pressured him into jumping into a filthy quarry, and now, I feel like a complete and utter asshole. In all honesty, I am one.

We finally arrive at my house. "Are you sure you're okay?" I turn and ask him, slamming the truck into park and shutting off the engine.

"I'm fine." He's already unbuckling. He manages a slight smile. "I just really, really wanna shower. Before I get toxic bleach water parasites and die."

"Okay." I suck. I suck so bad.

Seb heads down the stairs and I trudge along to my mom's bathroom, grabbing a towel from the cupboard along the way. Jumping into the quarry no longer feels like some fun little throwaway thing—it feels disgusting, and I feel like an idiot.

I wash myself off in the shower, scrubbing so hard at my skin that it turns red and blotchy, and any and all scabs of mine are ripped off, leaving small little dots of blood welling up along my knees and forearms. I scrub and I scrub and I scrub, but nothing makes that gross feeling go away. I feel like an asshole. I am an asshole.

When I'm out of the shower, I dry my hair first, my body still dripping wet while I scrub my scalp. I smell like my mother, of her coconut shampoo and her lavender body wash. I'm as rough with drying off my body as I was cleaning it. It's okay, I tell myself. You deserve it. It's Silkwood shower time, baby.

There's a light rap at the door. I freeze, towel half-way wrapped across my hips.

"Hey, Harris?" Seb's voice is tentative, and this is it, I think. This is him come to end things, because that was so not cool of me. Liam. I acted like a Liam. Even if Seb doesn't think so, I know so. The whole cajoling someone until they do something dumb with you? That's a Liam move. I never want to be like that again.

"Harris, are you okay?"

I finish wrapping the towel and open the old wooden door, hand clutching the crystal knob. "Hey," I tell him, trying to look way more at ease than I actually am, "I'm all good. What's up? Are you okay? How was the shower?"

Seb blinks. He's wearing one of my shirts and his boxers from last night. It's so cute on him, which sucks, because I know he's here to break up with me. His devastating attractiveness is not going to make him breaking off things with me any easier.

"Um," he says, blinking once more as if he's still attempting to process all the words that just spilled out of my mouth, "shower was good. And, I'm okay. Are ... are you okay?"

I wave him off. Fine, I'm fine. "I'm good, don't worry." I just feel disgusting and perverse is all. No big deal. Very normal. I am very good.

"Okay.... Can we talk?"

My heart thumps in my chest. I know what this is. I know what's happening. I can't say I blame him—I pulled a completely dick move. A Liam move. If I could go back in time and tell myself to break things off with Liam, believe me, I would.

"Yeah." I take a second to exhale, then smile at him. This is okay. This is good for him. "Yeah, sure."

"Cool, cool."

His curls are still wet enough that they're plastered awkwardly against his skull, a few ringlets curling against his temples and forehead. His skin has been scrubbed, like mine, but he smells weird. It's my shampoo and body wash, I realize. Citrus shampoo, sandalwood body wash. Having my scents on him, so familiar yet so different, is somehow disconcerting.

Why am I focusing on this right now anyway?

"Living room?" I suggest, sticking an arm out to awkwardly guide him, as if he somehow doesn't know where the living room is. God, Grandma is probably going to kill me for fucking this up. She really liked Seb.

Seb simply shrugs, and I follow him out to the living room. We sit at opposite ends of the loveseat, turned in towards each other. I feel awkward sitting on the couch in nothing more than a towel, but oh well.

"I'm really sorry about the quarry," I tell him. I don't want him to think I'm just apologizing because he brought it up. "That wasn't cool of me, and I really don't want you to think that I'm the kind of person who pressures someone else into doing something stupid. I would never want to—"

"This isn't about that," Seb says.

"Oh." Oh?

Oh?

Then what the fuck is this about?

My nerves turn into something a little more unsure. "What is this about then?"

"I guess I wanted to check back in with you," he says slowly. "We've been hanging out—well, fooling around, really—for the entire summer. It's been over a month, and we have just a little over a month left here. And I just wanted to know what you think of this ... whatever it is we're doing. Like, your thoughts on the future and everything."

His gaze keeps locking on mine, and then he'll spontaneously break eye contact. It repeats again and again, making it difficult to gauge exactly what it is that he's thinking about. "I'm ... not sure," I admit. What does he want me to say? I wish I knew, I really do. "What are your thoughts?"

Seb shakes his head, then pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tightly. "I just wanna know your thoughts. Don't ask me what I want. What do you want?"

"Seb, I...." I trail off, throat tight. I don't know what he wants me to say. This is completely out of the blue. Why now, of all times?

"Harris," he says, "what do you want me to be to you?"

And I realize, there's no way I can answer him honestly.

Fuck. I am not on a winning streak today.