Chapter Three

* Lawrence *

The sun was high and merciless, but under the shaded lounge area of the beachfront Magnolia, life was good, too good, maybe. I leaned my back in the woven hammock chair, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of my nose, one arm lazily draped over the cold bottle of beer resting against my stomach. Waves crashed gently in the distance, mingling with the thud of bass from the Bluetooth speaker. My two best friends, Nico and Marcus, were lounging nearby, equally shirtless, equally sunkissed, and equally careless.

"Bro, I'm telling you," Marcus said between bites of cold mango from a plastic container, "the girl at the jet ski rental? Smokin'. She asked me if I needed a guide. I told her I was the guide." He winked, chest puffed like a twelve-year-old trying to impress at prom.

Lawrence snorted, shaking his head. "And she still didn't give you her number?"

"She said maybe tomorrow," Marcus defended. "That's basically a promise."

"Or a restraining order in slow motion," Nico added, sipping from a can of soda.

I chuckled, stretching my legs out on the wooden railing, eyes wandering lazily to the surf. I had missed this, home. Not the manicured island façade that Magnolia projected to tourists, but the rhythm of it. The salt, the heat, the easy laughter of childhood friends. I hadn't even planned to tell Dianne I was here. She hated the island, said it smelled like fish and sweat and poverty.

But I needed this break. Just a few days away from the sterile chaos of the city, the obligations, the deadlines, the expectations that came with being a Dankworth. I hadn't shaved in three days. My phone had been face-down since breakfast.

Then, as if summoned by guilt itself, the damn phone lit up on the bamboo table next to my beer.

Dianne 💋 CALLING...

My stomach twisted slightly. I cursed under my breath, then grabbed the phone and stood up, walking away from the others toward a quieter side of the deck.

"Hey, babe." I forced my voice into its usual smoothness. "Everything okay?"

"Lawrence." Her voice was tight, controlled, too sweet. Dangerously sweet. "Where are you?"

Shit.

"I—uh—I'm just with the guys. Why?"

"At the resort, Lawrence?" she pressed. "Don't lie. I saw Nico's post. That little Boomerang of the sunset with you in the background? Yeah. Not hard to recognize the cabanas. Or your swim shorts."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Okay. Yeah. I'm here. Just for the weekend. I needed air."

"You didn't even tell me?" she said, her voice tightening. "You said you were staying in the city to catch up on your thesis proposal."

"I was," I muttered, eyes flicking to where Marcus was tossing a volleyball toward the sea. "Then Nico and Marcus dragged me here last minute. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, not a big deal?" she echoed. "Right. So you lied to me, went back to that island, and didn't think I'd find out?"

I was quiet for a second too long.

"I'll come over," she said abruptly. "I'll book a flight tonight. I have points."

My spine stiffened. "Dianne, no. It's not that kind of weekend."

"No?" Her voice dropped. "What kind is it then?"

I looked out at the horizon, wind shifting across my bare shoulders.

"The kind where I need space."

A beat of silence passed.

"You're not making sense," she said, her voice calmer now but colder. "We're supposed to be planning our trip to Singapore. Your internship starts in three weeks. And now you're telling me you're off the grid with your high school buddies like it's some kind of nostalgic bro-cation?"

"It's just a few days, Dianne," I said, quieter now. "I needed to come back. To breathe. That's all."

"Right." Another pause. Then, "Well, breathe fast. Because I'll be there by tomorrow afternoon."

The call ended before I could say anything.

I stood there for a few seconds, the silence of the ended call settling heavier than the heat. Behind me, Marcus shouted something about tequila. Nico laughed. Someone popped another beer can.

I tucked my phone back into my pocket and stared toward the horizon.

Maybe it wasn't just the ocean breeze I came looking for.

Maybe it was something else. Something I couldn't name yet.

And just for a flicker of a second, a memory slid into place, a girl with wide eyes and a black shirt, standing near the laundry entrance days ago. Faint, but vivid. I was sure she is a part timer, she looked very young yet the kind of beauty that's difficult to forget.

I turned back to the cabana slowly, unsure if the breeze brushing my skin was the same one tugging at something deeper inside me.

The call had ended, but Dianne's voice still clung to the edges of my thoughts like humidity that refused to lift. I remained rooted to the deck's edge, one hand on the wooden beam, the other clenched around the phone in my pocket. I could still hear the waves rolling in, see the white tips crashing against the shore, but it all felt... quieter somehow. Like the moment right after a storm warning, when the sky pretends to be calm.

My jaw tensed. I hadn't meant to lie to her, well, maybe I had, a little. But it wasn't about betrayal. It was about preservation. About having something that was mine, even for a weekend. Something that didn't revolve around schedules, job offers, parental expectations, and Dianne's meticulously color-coded G****e calendar.

God, even our sex life was scheduled now. "Intimacy Thursday," she had once joked. I had laughed. Now I wasn't so sure it had been funny.

A volleyball thudded against the deck railing near my foot, snapping me back.

"Hey!" Marcus called out, jogging over barefoot in the sand. "You alive, man? You look like someone told you tequila's been outlawed."

I forced a smirk. "Close. Dianne's coming tomorrow."

Marcus winced theatrically, miming a bomb going off with his hands. "Boom. Island peace terminated."

"She saw your post."

"Damn it, Nico!" he shouted over his shoulder. Nico just threw him a lazy shrug and raised his can in mock apology.

"She's booking a flight," I muttered.

Marcus whistled. "Man, what is she? A CIA agent? I swear, if she had a satellite, she'd probably track your tan lines."

I didn't laugh. Not really. Because as much as I loved Marcus's dramatics, and Nico's laid-back sarcasm, I knew they weren't the ones who would have to pick up the pieces if this weekend spiraled. Dianne wasn't just my girlfriend.

She was perfect. On paper.

So why was I thinking about a girl I'd only seen for a handful of seconds?

That girl.

I hadn't even asked her name. Just saw her by the laundry hut, black shirt, old rubber shoes, tangled ponytail and flushed cheeks from the afternoon heat. She'd been balancing a mop in one hand and a stack of towels in the other, earbuds in, dancing just slightly.

And for that small moment, she looked free.

It stirred something in me I hadn't realized was missing. That unfiltered joy. That rawness. The way her smile flickered even when she thought no one was watching.

Hell, maybe I was just projecting. Nostalgia did that to you. Magnolia had that kind of power, softening the harsh edges of memory until everything felt poetic, almost sacred. Even the resort, with its sun-faded cabanas and salted air, smelled like a life I once had, long before I became someone with a suit closet.

I wandered back toward the cabana, nodding absently as Nico offered me another beer. The sun had started to dip. Shadows lengthened across the sand, the beach growing quieter as families packed up and lovers retreated to their rented rooms.

I sat again, more heavily this time, and cracked open the fresh bottle. The fizz rose to the mouth, catching the light like gold dust.

"So... what now?" Nico asked, his gaze flicking between me and the horizon. "You gonna let her come?"

I didn't answer right away. Because I wasn't sure. Because a part of me wanted to see her, if only to test the waters, to see if I still fit into the life we'd been building. But another part... a quieter, braver part... wanted to hide. To linger in the shade of everything familiar but untouched.

"Let's just enjoy tonight," I finally said. "She's not here yet."

Marcus grinned and grabbed the speaker, turning up the volume. The bass thumped louder. Somewhere, a group of local kids lit a bonfire and the smoke curled into the dusk sky. It smelled like burning driftwood and sweet corn.

I leaned back again, watching the horizon with eyes that weren't entirely on the present.

In the lull of conversation, my mind drifted again, to the girl who aroused my curiosity.