Chapter Fifteen - Waves That Washes Away
729 Words
The sun burned high in the cloudless sky, casting everything in blinding white and brilliant blue. Nick stood at the edge of the shoreline, barefoot in the sand, the hem of his shorts damp where the ocean kept lapping at his ankles.
He inhaled deeply.
Salt. Sun. Freedom.
It had always been like this for him. Beaches were the only places where the noise inside his head quieted — where the endless hunger, the restless energy, the sharp edges dulled just enough to make him feel human again.
He hadn’t even thought twice when he booked the trip.
No hesitation. No plan. Just impulse — the need to get away from everything, from her, from the spiraling ache he felt every time he was near Olivia Blake.
And it worked.
Standing there, watching the tides roll in and out, he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Like he could finally breathe without fighting for it. Like he hadn’t made a mistake by pulling away.
Nick tilted his head back, letting the sun scorch his skin, letting it burn away whatever guilt or confusion lingered.
For once, there was no Olivia in his head.
No wide, trusting eyes.
No soft little gasps when he touched her.
No unbearable need clawing under his skin.
He scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, letting the wind ruffle it further, and smiled—an actual, genuine smile. The kind he hadn’t felt since long before he walked into that goddamn classroom and saw her sitting there, too young and too tempting for her own good.
The water stretched endlessly before him, horizon blurring into sky, and he imagined himself disappearing into it. Letting it swallow him whole. No past, no pressure, no mistakes waiting to happen.
He spent the day like that — walking the shore, swimming until his muscles ached, lying flat on the hot sand until he forgot the shape of everything that had been pulling him under.
There were people everywhere — laughing, drinking, running into the waves. Couples tangled together, oblivious to the world. Girls throwing glances at him, biting their lips in invitation. He noticed, but it didn’t stir anything inside him.
He wasn’t here for that.
He was here to be alone.
To feel clean.
By late afternoon, Nick stretched out under a beach umbrella with a beer in his hand and sunglasses shading his eyes. His phone buzzed against his thigh — notifications from i********:, texts from friends he hadn’t seen in months.
Photos he’d posted earlier of the ocean had blown up: people commenting about how good he looked, how relaxed he seemed.
He scrolled idly, not thinking too much, just letting the mindlessness of it soak into him.
It wasn’t until he saw a comment from an old classmate — “finally back to yourself again” — that he realized how deeply the tension had gripped him before.
He hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t himself anymore.
It scared him a little, that he could fall so far without realizing it.
It scared him more that one person — one girl — could be the reason.
Nick set the phone down beside him, closing his eyes against the glare of the sun. He let the breeze wash over him, hot and dry, and for once he didn’t think about her. He didn’t think about her mouth, or her innocence, or the way her eyes clung to him like he was something worth saving.
He thought about the sound of the waves.
He thought about the cold beer in his hand.
He thought about nothing at all.
And it felt good.
It felt right.
For once, he wasn’t the man who would ruin something pure just because he couldn’t control himself. For once, he wasn’t the villain in someone else’s story.
He could leave her untouched.
He could protect her, not by staying close, but by staying the hell away.
Nick cracked open another beer and raised it lazily toward the ocean, toasting the endless blue.
“To better choices,” he muttered under his breath, smirking.
The sun slid lower, bleeding gold across the sky, and he stayed there until darkness crept over the water and the stars blinked into view one by one.
And in all that time—he didn’t think of Olivia Blake once.
Not really.
Not enough to hurt.
- Writer
