35

The water had gone glassy by the time they climbed back into the boat, skin sticky with salt and laughter still hanging in the air. The moon was bright enough to paint everything silver — the half-empty bottles, the damp towels, the way Rafe's jaw flexed as he took a pull from his drink.

Kelce passed a joint around while Topper fiddled with the speaker, landing on some slow indie track that hummed low in the background. Sarah was leaned back beside him, whisper-laughing into his shoulder.

Stella sat across from Rafe, wrapped in a towel that barely clung to her shoulders. Her hair was dripping, strands stuck to her collarbone. She took the joint when it reached her, exhaled toward the stars, and smiled lazily as if it was a normal thing. "You know," she said, voice soft but teasing, "for someone who talked all that big-shot energy, you splash like a five-year-old."

Rafe let out a quiet laugh, his eyes lingering on her a beat too long. "That so? Maybe next time I'll hold you under."

She tilted her head, smirk playing at her lips. "You'd like that, huh?"

Kelce chuckled at himself, shaking his head. "Every guy in Fig would like that."

Rafe flicked a cap at him. "Shut up, Kelce."

The laughter hadn't even settled before Topper leaned forward, pointing toward the water.

"Do you remember freshman year," he began, words a little slurred, "when we thought it was a good idea to steal Ward's boat in the middle of the night?"

Kelce started laughing immediately, nearly spilling his drink. "How could I forget? Sarah wouldn't stop screaming because she thought someone was chasing us."

Sarah groaned, hiding her face behind her hands. "Because you idiots were driving straight into the channel with no lights on!"

Stella laughed, shaking her head. "No, wait—Rafe was at the wheel, acting like he was some kind of professional captain."

Rafe smiled lazily, eyes glinting under the moonlight. "I got us there, didn't I?"

"Barely," Stella said through her laughter. "We hit that sandbar so hard Kelce went flying over the bow."

The boat filled with laughter again, loud and uncontrolled, the kind that came easily when everyone was half-drunk and wrapped in old memories.

Kelce pointed across the deck, still laughing. "You didn't even help me back in, Rafe! You just sat there with that stupid smirk and asked if I was good."

Sarah could barely breathe through her laughter. "Ward was furious. He grounded you for weeks!"

Rafe shrugged, lifting his bottle. "Worth it."

Stella smiled softly, her voice quieter now. "That was one of the best nights."

Rafe looked at her then — really looked. "You said that back then too."

She held his gaze for a moment, the faintest curve of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Some things don't change."

The music played low in the background, the waves gently brushing the sides of the boat. The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet, the kind that felt familiar between them all.

Topper leaned his head back, staring up at the stars. "We really thought we were untouchable back then."

Rafe's voice was low, almost a hum. "Maybe we still are."

Stella glanced at him. "You really think so?"

He turned slightly, meeting her eyes. "When I'm out here, yeah. It feels like nothing else matters."

She didn't say anything, just watched him for a moment, the moonlight catching the sharp line of his jaw. Sarah's laugh broke the stillness, soft and amused. "You two get strange when you drink."

Rafe's lips curved into a grin. "And you get loud when you do."

Kelce let out a tired chuckle, reaching for what was left of the joint. "Every summer it's the same. We drink, talk about the past, and promise we won't do the same stupid things again."

"Tradition," Stella murmured, raising her bottle.

Rafe leaned forward and clinked his bottle gently against hers. Their fingers brushed — quick, fleeting, but enough to make her breath catch.

Kelce yawned, stretching back against the seat. "Tradition," he repeated, his voice lazy and content.

The boat swayed softly, the night wrapping around them like a blanket. The speaker buzzed faintly with another song — something low and moody, the kind that sank into the background.

For a while, no one said anything. It was just the gentle sound of the tide and the quiet hum of conversation from the other side of the deck. Then Topper, who'd been nursing his drink and staring up at the stars, spoke suddenly.

"Hey, Rafe," he said, his tone too casual, too slurred to be careful. "Whatever happened to that girl from the country club? The one with the red dress... what was her name again?"

Rafe froze for half a second — just long enough for Stella to notice.

Kelce snorted. "Oh, yeah. Emily or Ella or something? The one you disappeared with at the country club?"

Sarah's eyes widened slightly. "Kelce," she muttered under her breath, elbowing him.

Rafe's jaw tightened. "Alright, maybe we don't talk about that."

Topper blinked, confused. "What? I'm just saying. She was cute, man. Everyone thought you two—"

"Topper." Rafe's tone was sharp enough to cut through the noise of the water.

The laughter died down. For a second, no one said anything.

Sarah cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. "Anyway, it's getting late. We should probably start heading back before it gets colder."

Kelce nodded quickly, glad for the shift. "Yeah. I'm ready for my bed. Or, like... any flat surface."

Rafe stood and reached for the keys near the console, his movements slower than usual, controlled. Stella pretended to be looking at the horizon, even though she could feel his silence like static in the air.

The group started gathering their things — towels, bottles, empty cans. Rafe started the engine, the low rumble filling the space between them.

Stella sat near the front of the boat, her eyes fixed on the water ahead. She could still feel the tension pulsing behind her.

When they were halfway back to the docks, Rafe finally spoke. "You're quiet," he said from behind her, his voice just loud enough to carry over the engine.

She glanced back. "Just tired."

He didn't buy it. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Mad about what?" she said, keeping her gaze straight ahead. The wind caught her hair, whipping it lightly across her face. "You can do whatever you want."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she asked, her tone calm but clipped.

He hesitated, searching her expression. "Nothing. Forget it."

Stella nodded once and turned away again, her jaw tight. The lights from the dock were coming into view now — small, distant, flickering like fireflies.

The others were half-asleep, lulled by the motion of the boat, but Rafe stayed quiet the rest of the ride.

Eventually, the boat rocked gently as it slowed near the docks. Rafe killed the engine, and the sound of the waves filled the air again.

"Alright," Kelce mumbled, stretching. "Home time."

Rafe climbed out first, looping the rope around the dock post. Stella stood slowly, her balance slightly off. She reached for her towel but missed the edge of it, laughing softly to herself.

"Careful," Rafe said quietly, stepping closer.

"I'm fine," she murmured, brushing him off and trying again, though her movements were slower, unsteady.

He frowned, watching her sway slightly. "You're cross-faded, Stella. Just let me drive you."

She glanced up at him, her words coming out softer than she meant. "You don't have to."

"I know I don't have to," he said, his voice firm but careful. "I'm offering."

She shook her head, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Kelce can take me. He's fine."

Kelce, overhearing, lifted his head with a lazy grin. "Yeah, sure, I got her."

Rafe's jaw flexed, his tone quiet but edged. "Kelce's barely standing."

"I'll be fine," Stella said again, this time sharper — not at him, but at the feeling that rose in her chest. She didn't want to owe him anything. Didn't want to sit beside him in silence, pretending the night hadn't shifted.

Rafe exhaled slowly, stepping back. "Suit yourself."

Stella grabbed her things, her towel slipping off her shoulder as she moved past him. The smell of salt and beer clung to the air, heavy and warm.

She stumbled once on the dock plank, catching herself on the railing. Rafe's hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out — but she was already steady again, already walking ahead toward the parking lot lights.

He stayed behind, watching her go. Kelce called after him, saying something about locking up, but Rafe didn't hear it. His eyes stayed on Stella's figure as it faded into the shadows — her hair damp, her steps uneven, her silence louder than anything she could've said.

And for the first time all night, he wished he hadn't said a word.