static
Kennedy
The bass from the music was vibrating through the wooden floorboards of the beach house, rattling the half-empty soda cans stacked on the coffee table. It was the kind of humid North Carolina night that felt heavy, the air thick with salt spray and the smell of toasted marshmallows drifting in from the bonfire down on the beach.
I sat on the edge of the oversized couch, my feet tucked underneath me, watching the chaos unfold. This was the life. Or, it was supposed to be.
“Kennedy! Earth to Ken!”
I blinked, snapping my head toward the sound. Peyton was waving a phone in my face, her eyes bright with the kind of frantic energy that only came from catching a piece of high-quality town gossip.
“Sorry,” I laughed, pushing my hair back from my forehead. It was stuck to my skin from the humidity, messy and probably doing nothing for me, but I didn’t care. I was wearing an oversized hoodie and denim shorts—my unofficial uniform. “Just zoned out.”
“You were staring at the patio door,” Peyton said, lowering her voice as she leaned in. “Waiting for the golden boy?”
I felt the familiar, annoying heat creep up my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, and I’m the Queen of England,” she teased, bumping my shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just go out there. He’s been out by the grill for twenty minutes, and I think he’s been looking for you. Or maybe that’s just my romantic heart talking.”
I glanced toward the sliding glass door. Outside, the patio was bathed in the warm, orange glow of the string lights we’d spent all morning hanging. Cade was there, standing with Weston and Declan, a beer in one hand and his other hand resting on the railing. He was laughing at something Declan said, his head thrown back, his sandy brown hair catching the light. He looked effortlessly cool, the kind of guy who didn’t even have to try to hold the room’s attention—even when he was outside of it.
“He’s not looking for me, Pey,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “He’s probably busy talking about... I don’t know, boat engines or basketball stats.”
“You’re too modest. You’re the best shooter on the court, Ken. Even he knows that.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl between us. “Like one of the guys. That’s all I am.”
I stood up, needing to move. The atmosphere inside was suffocating, and the constant thrum of the music was starting to give me a headache. I wandered through the crowd, nodding to people I’d known since kindergarten. That was the beauty and the curse of Sandy Shores; there were no strangers. You knew everyone’s secrets, their embarrassing childhood stories, and their current drama before they even walked through the door.
I found Jake, my best friend since we were five, leaning against the kitchen counter, deep in a conversation with Grace. He looked up and grinned, his eyes lighting up.
“There she is!” Jake shouted over the music, abandoning his drink to pull me into a side-hug. “I was about to send a search party. You’ve been hiding in the corner.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” I defended, grabbing a lime from the fruit platter and popping it into my mouth. “Just observing the wildlife.”
“The wildlife is drunk,” Grace added with a soft laugh, adjusting her glasses. “And apparently, someone just tried to organize a midnight swim.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” I said, though I could feel the familiar itch of adventure beneath my skin. I loved the water, especially at night. It was the only time the ocean felt truly mine, calm and vast and indifferent to the pressures of an eighteen-year-old girl who didn’t quite know where she fit.
“It is,” Jake agreed, rolling his eyes. “But we’re doing it anyway. You in?”
“Maybe later,” I said. “I’m going to go grab a fresh drink. I think I left my water on the back deck.”
“You mean you’re going to walk past the patio door and hope you get spotted,” Jake teased, winking at me. He knew everything—every crush, every heartbreak, every stupid, secret hope I’d harbored for the last three years.
“Shut up,” I laughed, shoving his shoulder, but my heart was already racing.
I wove through the crowded kitchen, slipping past the groups of people gathered near the fridge. I reached the sliding glass door and pushed it open, stepping out into the cool, salt-tinged air.
The night was quiet out here, separated from the bass of the music by the thick glass. The sound of the waves hitting the shore was a rhythmic, grounding heartbeat.
I saw them then. Cade, Weston, and Declan were huddled near the edge of the deck, their voices low. I stepped into the shadows of the doorway, intending to call out, to announce my presence before I walked over to the cooler.
But then, I heard my name.
“I’m just saying,” Weston’s voice drifted over, thick with a mix of amusement and annoyance. “She’s been hanging around a lot lately. You ever think about, you know, making a move? She’s clearly into you, Cade.”
I froze. My breath hitched in my throat, a cold stone forming in my stomach. I shouldn’t have stayed. I should have turned around and walked back into the noise, back to the safety of my friends. But I was paralyzed.
Cade’s laugh sounded bitter, harsh in the night air. It wasn’t the warm, easy laugh I was used to. It was dismissive.
“Kennedy?” he asked, as if the idea was laughable.
“Yeah, Kennedy,” Declan prompted, leaning against the railing. “She’s cute, she’s funny, and she’s already basically part of the family. Would save you a lot of trouble.”
“Look,” Cade said, and his voice dropped to a level of cold, clinical finality that shattered the world I’d been carefully constructing for years. “Kennedy’s a great girl. She’s like a sister to me. But she’s not my type. You know that. I like... I don’t know, girls who aren’t constantly trying to beat me at horse or smelling like fish guts because they spent six hours on the pier.”
A ripple of laughter went through the group.
“Besides,” Cade continued, his voice softer, but no less damning. “She’s a tomboy. She doesn’t even know how to hold a conversation that isn’t about sports or video games. I need someone a little more... I don’t know. Sophisticated? Someone who actually puts in the effort.”
I felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed. The air seemed to vanish from the deck, leaving me gasping in the shadows.
“Right,” Weston said, his tone shifting. “Fair enough. Just checking.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cade said. “She’s just a buddy. I’m looking for something else this summer.”
I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn’t. The sound of my own heartbeat was a deafening roar in my ears.
Not his type.
All the times I’d stayed late at the marina to help him fix a boat engine, thinking it was a moment of connection. The times we’d shared fries at the cafe, the times we’d sat on the roof of his car watching the sunset—I had read it all wrong. I had been playing a different game, in a different reality, while he had been looking at me through the lens of a brotherly, uninteresting obligation.
I backed away, my sneakers making no sound on the wooden deck. I turned and retreated into the house, but the music no longer felt like a party. It felt like a funeral.
My chest ached, a sharp, physical pain that made it hard to breathe. I needed to leave. I needed to be anywhere else but here, in this house, surrounded by people who were probably pitying me—or worse, who didn’t even notice that I was crumbling.
I pushed through the crowd, heading for the front door.
“Ken? Where are you going?”
It was Jake. His voice was concerned, his brow furrowed. He grabbed my arm, stopping me before I could reach the porch.
“I... I forgot I promised my mom I’d be home by midnight,” I lied, my voice shaking. “I’m just tired, Jake.”
He looked at me, really looked at me, and his expression softened. He knew me too well. He knew when I was lying, and he knew when I was hurt. His eyes flickered toward the back deck, and then back to my face. The realization dawned on him, slowly, like a dark cloud passing over the sun.
“Did he say something?” Jake’s voice was dangerously low.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered, pulling my arm away. “Because he was right. I’m not his type. And I think I’m finally done trying to be.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond. I pushed past him, out into the cool, dark night, and started walking toward home, the tears finally, finally starting to fall.
