Archive of Our Own

Kate slings her bag over her shoulder with a grunt of determination, sliding her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose. “You know, I’ve never been this far north.”

Seth studies her for a moment, like he’s waiting for her to offer her luggage. “Yeah?”

Kate holds steadfast to the strap. “Have you?”

He shuts the car door harder than he should, wincing at the sound of old metal and rusted parts. “Didn’t leave Kansas ’till I was fifteen,” he says. “So no.”

“Is all of it this haunted, you think?” She studies the slopes of the roof, the faded baby-blue paint job. “Or just this one particular part?”

“For what they’re charging for a rental,” Seth says. “They better have this place cleansed, de-ghosted, sanctified, the whole nine fucking yards.”

“Yeah,” Kate says. “But then you wouldn’t be able to get in the front door.”

He wrinkles his nose at the comment. He hasn’t really taken in the landscape, not like she has, not like she will. That’s kind of her job, he thinks. He just clicks “buy,” on the website and lets things happen.

But there’s a pretty ominous flock of birds on the power wire across the street. Just saying. “This whole town is completely fucking haunted, isn’t it?”

Kate nods, lip pursed. Like she’s making a decision or mocking him. “Yep.”

“I mean.” There’s already a rock in his shoe, somehow. “How bad could a few ghosts be?”

“Honestly?” She considers it. “Probably a welcome change.”

“Right?” he says. “They’d have to be.”

“Even the weirdo crazy kind,” Kate says. “Like the kind that send knives across the room.”

“Perfect,” Seth says. “Just like home.”

“You’re sure Richie’s going to be okay?” Kate asks. She’s got that little twinge in her voice, and Seth chooses to ignore it.

“Listen,” Seth says. “He’s the one who said it was too cold up here for him. And besides.” He shifts as Kate puts her hand in his, adjusting to the feeling of her by his side. “If the bar burns down, it’s insured.”

“Is it?” Kate asks.

“I really hope so,” Seth says. “Because I do not expect it to still be standing when we get back.”

She nods at that. “We should get them souvenirs,” Kate says. “So they know we were thinking about them.”

“We’re not even in the house yet,” Seth says. “Can we focus on us, first?”

“Yeah,” Kate says. An offering. “We can focus on us.”

He squeezes her hand. Notes the way it makes her smile. Faintly, but fondly. “You look good, Kate.”

She tilts her head at him. “Should I say the same to you?”

He shrugs. “Don’t need to,” he says. “I already know.”

“Wow,” Kate says. “I really hope the ghosts get you first.”

“They probably will,” Seth says. “You’re all the way down there, and that’s a long way to go, you know?”

She mock gasps at him, jamming her pointy little elbow into his side. “When you said a getaway, you know this isn’t really what I had in mind.”

“I know.” Thumb across her knuckles. “But it’s as far from Texas as we can get. And there’s a beach.”

“Well,” Kate says. “If there’s a beach.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he says.

She lets him leave it at that.

Unpacking is. A procedure.

Not because they’ve overpacked, but because Seth’s almost positive the furniture’s going to break if he even looks at it funny. “Look,” he says. “Look, Kate. The TV stand is more crooked than it was a minute ago. Look.”

She appears beside him, holding a pair of jeans to her chest. “It’s the same,” Kate says. “I have counted five spiders, though.”

“In the house?” Seth asks.

She blinks at him. “In this room.”

“I don’t like spiders, Kate,” Seth says.

“They probably keep everything else out, though,” she says. “If there’s a bunch of them, it means there’s probably ants or something.”

“I think this state is a mistake,” Seth says. “You know? Like, is it unusually damp in this house, or am I crazy?”

“You are crazy,” Kate says. “But it’s pretty damp, yeah.”

“Good,” Seth says. “Excellent. You know I like my rooms damp.”

“We did technically see worse,” Kate says. “Like that one room where the AC was broken, remember?”

“And we were both way too-“ He gestures. “To just sleep in our underwear like sane people?”

“Memories,” she says.

“Are you being sardonic?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Did you just use sardonic in a sentence?”

“You hang out with Richie too often,” Seth says, decidedly. “That’s what your problem is.”

He’s a little unsettled by the way she’s looking at him. Not bad-unsettled, not skin-crawling, but the kind of sensation that settles in his stomach and makes his way up to his throat.

He should make words. “What?”

“I’m hanging out with you right now, aren’t I?” Kate asks. “I’m all yours.”

“Oh,” Seth says. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

She’s pretending this isn’t amusing to her. She’s not very good at it. “Why not?”

He sucks in a breath, and returns his attention to the TV stand. Which has definitely sunken lower into the carpet. Again. “You’ll give me ideas.”

“Well in that case,” Kate taps him on the arm. “I’ll go put my clothes away. Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.”

He can’t even properly gaffe at her before she leaves the room. “Kate,” he offers, to the TV stand. “Kate!” The stairs creak under his weight. “Katie. I’ve had ideas before!”

He can hear her laughter. “Ideas about me?”

The doorway to the bedroom is on crooked. The bedframe looks like it survived the civil war. And there’s Kate, re-folding her clothes on faded floral sheets.

He tries not to swallow his tongue. “Maybe.”

“You know you’ve seen me naked, right?” Kate says. “You don’t have to play coy.”

He loops his arm around her waist, batting the clothes out of her hands. “Who’s playing?”

She stares at the space between her hands where there was a shirt. “You’re impossible.”

He mulls it over. “Probably,” he says, and unabashedly pulls her onto the bed.

“Seth.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Seth, we are sinking into this mattress.”

“I know, Kate.”

“Seth.”

“What?”

She climbs out of the sinking pit in the center of the bed, only kneeing him in the chest three times. “The bed’s haunted.”

“No, Kate,” he says, still nestled in a cavern of mattress. “The bed is just old.”

“I can see that, now.”

“I’ll check the other rooms,” he says. “See if I can find us anything better.”

She waits for him to pull himself out of bed before falling back, shifting on the mattress like she’s getting acquainted. “We’ve had worse.”

“Yeah.” He sometimes stares at the strangest parts of her body. Her ankles, her knees. Her calves used to bruise too easily. Not anymore. “But we’re on vacation.”

“Go,” Kate tells him. “If I figure out how to get up, I’ll definitely put my clothes away.”

“Honestly?” Seth says. “I wouldn’t if I were you. There’s probably something living in those drawers.”

“Nah,” Kate replies. “If there was, I’d feel their heartbeats.”

A pause.

“Oh,” Seth says.

Kate tries to sit up, only to get sucked back into the vortex of old mattress. “I’m-“ She rolls onto her side, kicking her legs against creaking bedsprings. “Okay. This is- Shit-“

She falls out of the bed.

He’s at her side before he registers moving, hand in her hand, eyes on the way her hair falls in her face.

“Well,” Kate says. “We should check the other mattresses.”

When she stands, he notes the mottled discoloring in her legs, the first signs of bruising. Her paleness knits back together, blue fading back into her skin, like it’s being sucked out. He watches with rapt fascination. Maybe horror. Maybe anxiety.

She’s staring at him. “So. I can still do that.”

“Yeah,” he says, kind of breathless. “Yeah, I knew. I- I know. You’ve got all those-“

“Leftovers,” Kate says.

He gives her a look.

“Richie’s word,” she says. “But I like it. It makes it feel less heavy. You know?”

“Not really,” he says. And it’s times like this that he wonders why he promised to be honest. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

She considers him, the way he holds his words. The three-day beard. The fear that isn’t of her but for her, always for her, the worry that knits in his chest. “Mattresses?”

He exhales. “Mattresses.”

They are side by side in the room down the hall, and the spot on the ceiling has to be at least twice his age.

“These are better,” Kate says, pulling her feet up onto the bed. “Firmer.”

“We could just-“ He motions with his hands. “Push the twins together and sleep in here.”

She snickers.

“What?” He asks. He nudges. “That was barely an innuendo.”

“Have you?” Kate asks. She shifts onto her side, taking him in with her head in her hand. “With twins, I mean.”

He spares her a glance, and then returns to that spot. “Isn’t it a little early for never have I ever?”

“I’m not playing,” Kate says. “I’m just asking a question.”

He lets out a huff, watching the dust dissipate into the sunlight. “No. Never twins.”

“Okay,” Kate says, measuring her response. “But how many people?”

He turns his head to her. “Come again?”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says. “But like, I’ve only ever had like, two, and so has Richie, but you-“ She lifts her shoulders. “It’s more interesting. I want to hear about it.”

He considers it. “Is this like, a sex thing?” he says. “Do you like, feel turned on by this?”

Kate stares at him. “Should I?” she asks. “Do you?”

He smacks his lips. “N-“ Why is she looking at him like that? Why now? “No?”

“I’m curious,” Kate says. “Do you remember all of them?”

He lets out a faint breath. “Not particularly.” He takes in her expression. She’s watching him, not to make him squirm but to observe. To memorize. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” she says. “Does it bother you?”

“Not until this moment, no,” Seth says.

Her fingers find his, lacing through with practiced ease. “We’ll push the twins together.”

“See, when you say it-“ He offers half a grin. “It’s kind of funny.”

She returns the expression, giggling to herself. “Thanks.”

“I mean,” Seth says. “I’ll get you a push up bra if you really want it, Kate.”

She smacks him on the arm. “Seth!”

“It was right there!” He takes her wrist. “I can’t ignore that kind of set up.”

“I’m gonna have to ask you to try,” she says. “For all of our sakes.”

“I shouldn’t make those kinds of promises,” he says. He almost says, bad things happen when I make promises, but thinks the words are kind of already out there, like she can hear him thinking.

“You hungry?” she asks, and the subject is closed.

“Starving,” he says.

She pulls herself up, hair swaying around her shoulders as she arches her back. “Do you like fish?”

He follows the motion. Less gracefully. “No.”

She rolls her eyes. “Have you ever even had fish?”

“Oh yeah,” he says. “Big hit in prison. The tuna was exquisite.”

“What about before that?” she says.

“Richie likes those-“ He draws a line with his fingers. “The breaded fish sticks. Eddie would make them sometimes and I couldn’t stand it.”

“Wow,” Kate says.

“What?”

She hops off the bed. “Never thought there’d be a food you liked and Richie didn’t.”

“World’s full of surprises.”

She offers him her hand, and he takes it, despite getting off the bed entirely of his own abilities. “You know they make those fishsticks here, right? Like in this town?”

He scrunches his nose. “Was there a pamphlet under the door I missed?”

“Actually,” Kate says. “Yeah. This is a vacation house, you know.”

He takes a moment to appreciate the sloped door frame. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Seth?”

“Hm.”

“You’re going to have to deal with fish.”

He swings their hands for a moment, like the propulsion will conjure a response. “I’ll get a burger.”

She’s pulling him out of the room, he realizes. Dinner is no longer negotiable. Staying in bed for the night is apparently out. “It’ll taste like fish.”

“Then I’ll live off Ritz crackers and Swedish Fish,” Seth says. “Like Richie did when he was 14.”

“Oh,” Kate says, stopping for a moment. “That’s… That’s really concerning, actually.”

“Yeah,” Seth says. “A lot of things are.”

She gives him one of those looks. “Swedish Fish are a kind of fish, you know.” And she releases his hand.

He’s only slightly baffled. “Kate.” He follows her. “Kate!”

The burger tastes like fish. The fries are good, and the beer’s fine.

Kate breaks her fish apart with her fork, smearing it through vinegar and then tatar sauce.

He wrinkles his nose.

“What?” she says. “That’s what Richie does.”

“Richie’s never had fish and chips,” Seth says. “I can tell you that we didn’t have that in Kansas.”

“Well,” Kate says. She pauses, and chews thoughtfully. “He has thoughts on them.”

“Right.” Seth takes one of her fries. “Naturally.”

She watches his hand. “Don’t you have your own fries?”

“They’re fishy.” He keeps ketchup on hand. Like a normal person.

“Mine are literally next to my fish,” Kate tells him.

“They’re better,” Seth says. “Just how it works.”

She replies by taking his beer. The froth finds home on her upper lip, but she doesn’t blanch. He wonders when she started drinking beer. If this was his doing, in Mexico, or Richie’s doing, later. Or her own doing, and that maybe it’s just a glass of booze.

He leans forward, thumbing away the foam on her upper lip. “You want your own?”

“I don’t have an ID,” Kate says.

“Right,” he says. “We gotta get you a new one.”

“I could go to the DMV,” Kate says. “I know where the safety deposit box in Bethel is, it’s got my birth certificate and-“

“We, uh-“ Seth chews the lining of his cheek. It reminds him of the burger, which reminds him of fish, and the sensation is entirely unpleasant. “We kind of filed a death certificate for you.”

She forks at her food. “Oh.”

“I mean,” Seth says. “Not a huge deal. I’ve got one too, you know. Eddie had to file it for me and Richie, and everything.”

“What about Scott?” Kate asks. “You guys didn’t file one for him, did you?”

“No,” Seth says. “Scott’s still alive.”

“Well.” Stab. Stab. “One of us should be.”

“Kate.”

“I’m fine,” she says. “It’s- I’m fine.” She takes a moment. “You can’t really- You can’t undo being dead, you know? We can’t go to the state and tell them it was an accident. That’s not how things work.”

“We could see if Freddie could fix it,” Seth says. “Maybe go and delete it from the systems.”

“Did you file one for my father?” Kate asks. “We didn’t get a chance in Mexico, and-‘

“Scott did,” Seth says. “When we filed yours.”

She sighs. Maybe in relief. Maybe in resignation. “Can we change the subject?”

It’s a very him move. It’s too him, actually. Though he wouldn’t have bothered to ask first. He takes another fry from her, as a show of solidarity. “Talk to me.”

She nods. Once slowly, then two times fast. Making a decision. She reaches into her purse, procuring the mysterious brochure. “See?” she tells him. “It was on the kitchen table when we got in.”

“I believed you the first time,” he says.

“Well it’s got a lot of fun stuff listed in it,” Kate says. “Like, landmarks and things to do and beaches and-“

“What kind of landmarks could there possibly be around here?” Seth asks. “Big rocks?”

Kate looks at the brochure. “Actually,” she says. “Yes.”

He snickers before reminding himself that he shouldn’t, but it earns him a half-grin from Kate. “Anything else to do around here?”

“We could go kayaking,” Kate says. “Lots of rental places.”

“I don’t boat,” Seth says.

“It’s not a boat,” Kate says. “It’s a kayak.”

“Which is a kind of boat,” Seth tells her.

“You don’t like fish and you don’t like boats,” Kate says. “You picked this place for us, why?”

“It’s got beaches,” he says.

She purses her lips. He’s not crazy about the way she’s looking at him, with this mix of intrigue and concern. “Seth.”

“What?”

“Can you swim?” she asks.

He runs his tongue against his gums. “I can’t.”

“So?” Kate says. “I can teach you.”

“Don’t you have to be certified for that?” he asks.

She brightens considerably, puffing with that pride he’s missed. “I am.”

“Well, look at you,” Seth says. “We’ve got a career path all ready for you and everything.”

She responds by lightly kicking his shin. “I was an instructor at the church camp,” Kate says. “Daddy had me and Scott be counselors once we turned fifteen.”

“Poor kid,” Seth says.

She tilts her head. “I had fun!”

“Wasn’t talking about you,” Seth says.

And it’s not that he meant to take the wind out of her sails. Because he hadn’t. And now he feels kind of like a dick for it. “I-“ She pauses. “I didn’t know at the time.”

“I know the feeling,” Seth says.

“It’s different,” Kate says. “You and Richie are practically the same age-“

“You and Scott are the same age,” Seth reminds her.

She shakes her head. “I’m his big sister,” she says. “And I got caught up in all this- This silly, superficial stuff, and-“

“Kate-“ He takes her hand. “You’re a teenager.”

She squeezes his hand. “I was.”

He takes it upon himself to cup her cheek. Just for an instant, just as a reminder. “You want to go for ice cream?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Any places listed in that-“ He moves his hand from her cheek to the brochure, tapping at the pages with his fingers.

“You can read, you know,” Kate says.

“Since when?” he asks.

She laughs. Honest and genuine.

“Come on,” he tells her, pushing back his seat.

“Seth.”

“Yeah?”

She looks at their food, then back to him. “You have to pay the check.”

He smacks his lips. “Right.”

(When they sleep that night, the windows are open and the fan’s on high. He holds Kate to his chest, her hair brushing his collarbone. It’s familiar in a way that he allows himself to remember, though the air smells like salt and not like dry, familiar heat. He thinks he likes this more, though. That maybe he could get used to salt for the long haul.

Kate turns onto her back, and lies still.)

“Alright,” he says, tossing Kate a bottle of Coppertone. “Oil up.”

She lets the bottle miss her by about a mile, and it crashes somewhere behind her in the living room. “Why did you get me up?” she says, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s like, eight AM.”

“Yeah,” he says, deliberately. “Beach time.”

“What kind of-“ She looks behind her, like she’s just registered that he threw a bottle of sunscreen at her. “What kind of ass-backwards family bonding bullshit are you trying to pull?”

“The kind that gets us to the beach, today, all day, no questions asked,” Seth says. He looks her up and down. “You’re not even in your bathing suit.”

“I just woke up,” she says. “Do you want me to sleep in it?”

“That’s a loaded question, Katie,” he says.

“It’s eight AM,” she repeats. “I literally cannot do this with you right now.”

“You’re gonna be doing this with me all week,” he says. He gestures upstairs with his thumb, letting out a quick whistle. “Swimsuit. Now. We’ll swing by the drive thru and get hotcakes. Chop chop, princess.”

She almost quirks a smile at him, though it’s clouded by sleep. “That’s familiar.”

He hadn’t thought about it. But she’s right. “You heard me, Miley.”

She tugs on the ends of her shirt. His shirt. Hadn’t she had a different pair of pajamas last night? Where did she get his undershirt? “Maybe you could pull a gun on me while I change,” Kate says. “Make it really like old times.”

There’s really. No words. For that. “I can’t tell if you’re propositioning me, threatening me, mocking me-“

“Mocking,” Kate says. “Definitely mocking.” She rolls on her heels. Pauses mid way. Juts out her lower lip. “What part of that seemed like a proposition?”

“I don’t know,” Seth protests. “The changing part?”

“What could possibly be less sexy than you holding a gun on me?” Kate asks.

“That’s why I was confused!” Seth says. “But if you were into it, I was going to go along!”

“I don’t even-“ She rubs her palms against her eyes. “How can you even be thinking about sex at this hour of the morning?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“I loathe you,” Kate tells him. “I can’t even believe you exist as a person.”

“Thank you, Katie,” he says. “Really. Touching words from the girl who’s not even awake yet.”

She lets out a low groan, before making a heavy turn back towards the stairs. “Why are we even on vacation if you’re going to make me get up this early?”

“You can sleep on the beach,” he says. “Or you could, if we get out of here before the sun sets.”

“Oh, screw you,” Kate says.

“After you have your swimsuit on,” he says.

She throws the bottle of sunscreen back at him from the living room.

It hits the stove.

“Great arm!” he calls.

He can feel her glowering at him from across the house.

Kate eats hotcakes in the passenger seat, AC blasting, while Seth begrudgingly tries to fit beach chairs in the trunk of the car.

She’d asked him halfway through the drive through if he’d remembered towels, and it had unraveled quickly from there. Since he hadn’t remembered towels. They didn’t have towels. Or chairs. Or an umbrella, or any magazines.

He had remembered his sunglasses, though. And the sunscreen. So.

Point Seth.

“You could help!” he calls, over the trunk. “You’ve got more upper body strength than I do!”

The window squeaks as Kate rolls it down. She pokes her head out the window, not bothering to take her sunglasses off. “You almost made me spill syrup on myself!”

“Oh no!” Seth says, in faux shock. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere where you could rinse that off!”

“What’s taking you so long, anyway?” she asks. “Didn’t you say, ‘Don’t worry Katie, I’m gonna have us locked and loaded in no time?’”

He makes a face. “Was that tone supposed to be me?”

“Yeah,” she says. “But I can’t really capture your machismo.”

“Maybe I thought this would go a little faster with an extra set of hands,” Seth says.

“Well,” Kate says. “Who’s fault is that?”

She ducks back into the car as he swears under his breath. She rolls up the window, and Seth just knows she’s grinning to herself.

It takes a little more finagling to get everything to fit. Trunk space hadn’t really been on his mind when he’d picked (stolen) a car, and it probably, maybe, definitely sort of should have been.

He makes his way back to the drivers side and opens the door, half expecting Kate to be playing something young and loud and so entirely annoying he’d want to blow his brains out.

But it’s quiet in the car. She’s pulled her sun hat on, covering the left side of her face from him. Her elbow rests on the windowsill, feet curled up under her body.

“Kate?” he falls into the drivers seat. “You okay?”

“I-“ She doesn’t move her hat. “Please don’t announce those things about me. The stuff I can do. I don’t want people to know.”

He reaches for her hand but leaves himself short, guilt knotting under his tongue. “I don’t think-“ He finds the shifter, drums his fingers along the nob. “No one knows I was serious.”

“But I know you’re serious,” Kate says. “And I just think- I think it’s kind of silly to think that we’re the only people that know about all this weird, supernatural stuff. Like it only happens where we are. Who knows what goes on up here? Who knows what people might think I am if-“

“Hey.” Now he takes her hand, tightly. With certainty. “No one’s going to come near you.”

“Are you afraid of me?” she asks, faintly. He thinks she might not have meant to say it out loud.

“No,” he says. “Never.”

She shifts in her seat. Her face comes back into view as she adjusts her hat, thoughtful if not gently forlorn. She pulls her hair onto her shoulder.

It’s redder in the sunlight than it used to be. Than it was when he’d met her, he thinks. But not as red as it could be. For that, he’s grateful. “I’ll never turn my back on you, Katie. You know that, right?”

She looks at her knees. At the breakfast she’d been working on, gotten halfway through. “I know.”

“You want to finish your food?”

“I’m good.”

“Kate.”

“Yeah?”

He reaches for her shoulder. Twines her hair around her fingers. “I mean it.”

She idly reaches for his hand. Pulls his touch to her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed, as she tilts towards the sensation of him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” It’s not a perfect response. It’s a half-decent one.

They sit in silence for a little while. He doesn’t complain.

“If you were just going to lay out on the towel,” Seth says, sticking her chair in the sand beside her. “You could’ve told me not to buy the chair.”

Her hat has been placed gently on the wayside. She rolls onto her back, and he wonders how that’s easier than simply looking up at him. She folds her hands onto her stomach, right above her navel. “Maybe I’ll use it later.”

It’s a bizarre angle to stare at her from, when she’s flat on her back and he’s standing above her.

He plops into the sand, on the opposite side of the chair. Right on the edge of her towel.

She stares up at him, her face covered by his shadow. “Hi.”

“Hey, Katie,” he says. And there had been something else for this, but he can’t remember.

“I need to put sunscreen on,” Kate says.

“I told you to put it on before we left,” he says.

“Okay, fun police,” she says. “I didn’t feel like it.”

“You’re paler than Richie,” he says. “You’ll burn.”

“Actually.” Kate extends her arm off the towel, out of the range of his shadow. “I don’t actually know if I will. You know? Because I’m not a-“ Her voice is already a whisper, but she meets his eyes and mouths “Culebra.”

He brushes his fingers along her rib cage. She’s warmer than a culebra, he thinks, still faintly reminiscent of the body that would share a bed with his in Mexico.

Full, then empty, then refilled.

“Seth?”

“Hm?”

“I was asking you to put sunscreen on me,” Kate says. “That was the point, there.”

“Oh,” he says.

“Smooth,” Kate tells him, pulling herself up.

“You got freaky on me again,” he says. “With the whole sun immunity thing.”

“That’s barely freaky,” Kate says. She tugs over the beach bag she’d made him buy, rifling through it. “That’s like, a two on a scale of one to ten.”

“It’s a four,” he protests.

“We deal with twelves,” Kate says. She pauses, lips drawn in concentration. “Ha! Found it!” She slams it into his hand. “Sunscreen me.”

“Real sexy, Kate,” he says.

“Don’t be gross,” she replies.

He makes a show of tugging the protective plastic off the bottle. “You know, you could’ve at least unwrapped it.”

“I don’t know why you’re assigning me all these tasks, or whatever,” Kate says. “But that seems like it’s your problem, not mine.”

“Oh, super mature,” he says, spattering sunscreen into his hand. He puts it on her by planting his hand flat on her back, grinning to himself all the while.

She jerks forward, making a noise of frustration. “Seth!” She swats his hand away, trying to rub the blob of sunscreen into her back herself. “You’re the worst!”

“Oh, come on.” He takes her wrist, and pulls her hand to her lap. He resumes blending the blob into her skin, more gently this time. “I can’t have any fun?”

“I’m fun on my own,” Kate says. “You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“That was a two on the scale of jerkiness,” he teases.

“And you are usually a twelve,” Kate responds.

“Bingo.”

He gets a laugh from her, at least. He’s careful with her shoulders, with the line of her spine. She’s getting goosebumps on the backs of her arms, but he pretends not to notice.

He rubs his thumbs against her lower back, longer than it takes for the sunscreen to blend. His lips find her shoulder. “Finish up,” he tells her. “You said you’d teach me how to swim.”

The soft noise she lets out is entirely too indecent for the beach. “Moment ruined, Seth.”

“I try.”

She takes the sunscreen, working it into her stomach, her legs. Her arms, and her chest. “You should cover up, too.”

“I don’t burn,” he says.

“Oh my God,” Kate says. “You have to at least put sunscreen on your tattoo.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll just get a tan. The sunscreen was for your delicate princess skin.”

She responds by standing up, and smearing a handfull of sunscreen into the center of his chest. “There,” she says. “Good enough.”

“Perfect,” he says.

“You’re not even going to try to blend it, are you,” she says.

He glances down, and shrugs. “Nah.”

“Coolest guy on the beach,” Kate tells him.

“Are you kidding?” Seth says. “The tattoos on this beach make me look like a regular Jimmy Stewart.”

Kate tilts her head.

“You know,” Seth says. “Actor, all around good guy, Richie does a terrible impression of him?”

“That last one could be anyone,” Kate says.

“Fair.”

She’s still just… looking at him.

“He was in It’s a Wonderful Life,” Seth sighs.

“Oh!” Kate says. “Him!”

“You’re killing culture,” Seth says.

“Right,” Kate says. “I am. Just me. I’ll be sure to tell everyone when we get back.”

He just gives her a look, before taking her by the hand and making a beeline for the shoreline.

“We probably should’ve bought you floaties,” Kate says. “So you can go into deeper water without me having to worry.”

“Ha ha,” Seth says. “Very funny.”

She beams at him, in the most conceited way possible. “Thank you.”

“But actually,” Kate says. “Stay near me. Otherwise a lifeguard will have to drag you out of the water, and-“

Seth catches a sideways glimpse of the lifeguards, sitting atop their bright red tower. They’re Kate’s age. Maybe younger. “Point taken.”

She’s still, he notices. Just a hair’s width from where the water breaks on the shore. “You know I’ve never seen the ocean, right?” Kate says. “She had. I think. A long, long time ago. Because I can remember it. But I’ve never seen the ocean.”

He doesn’t quite know if she’s talking to him. She could just be reminding herself. The rhythm of her heartbeat might not even be a heart anymore. He hasn’t asked. “I hadn’t seen it either.”

“There’s…” She unlaces her fingers. Crosses her arms. “A lot of it.”

“Astute,” Seth says.

“Nice word,” Kate says. “Sneaking crosswords again?”

“Why would I sneak crosswords?” Seth says.

“Because Richie fills them in when you’re not looking otherwise,” Kate says.

He allows it. “Yeah,” Seth says. “Always does.”

“You know I don’t actually think you’re stupid, right?” Kate tells him. She’s not touching him, but the look she gives him is as tangible as her hands.

“Well,” he says. “One of us shouldn’t, I guess.”

“Seth.”

He steps into the water without her.

And immediately regrets it. “Shit!”

She’s still standing there, watching him. Her brow furrows. “What?”

He backpedals, returning to her side. “That is cold as fucking shit.”

“Come on,” Kate says, moving her foot forward. “It can’t be-“ She eeps as the water hits her toes, jumping back.

“See?” Seth says. “It’s uninhabitable. It’s antarctic.”

“It’s not-“ She dips her foot again, like Seth isn’t going to notice the way she’s wincing. “We just have to get used to it. The lake was always this cold, you know.”

“The lake.”

“Yes.”

“The lake at church camp,” Seth says. “In Texas.”

“The same.”

“Was this cold.”

Kate bats her eyelashes. “Weeeeeell-“

“Fine,” he says, plowing back into the ocean. “Let’s suffer. What else did we have to do today?”

Kate follows behind him, lifting her feet like a baby doe. “Cold,” she mutters to herself. “Cold, cold, cold-“

“We could stop,” Seth says.

She lets out a huff. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” he says. “Because I’m looking to loose one or both feet, here.”

“Richie can turn you,” Kate says. She grabs him by the bicep, like she’s clinging to him for dear life. “And they’ll grow back.”

“Charming,” he says.

“It’ll be better once we get our heads wet,” Kate says. “The water doesn’t get deep for a while, so you should be fine.”

“That’s not a good plan,” Seth says.

“It’s a great plan,” Kate says. She urges him further into the water, to his knees.

“Kate.” She claws at his arm, her little nails leaving half-moon prints in his tattoo. “Kate!”

“Yeah?”

“I literally cannot feel my dick,” he says. “It’s so cold that it’s trying to retract into my body.”

“That’s not physically possible,” Kate says.

“It’s about to be,” Seth says. “I’ll be a medical marvel.”

“Yeah,” Kate says. “The guy with an impossible knack to whine, even in extreme conditions.”

“It’s my superpower,” Seth says. “Can we go back to shore now?”

“No,” Kate says. “We’re seeing this through.”

“To when?” Seth says. “Until we both get frozen solid?”

“I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it,” Kate says. “I’d kind of like to see your dick retract into your body. For science.”

He gives her a frustrated huff. “Okay. You know what?” He hoists her up by the sides, slinging her body over his shoulder. “Swim lessons are cancelled until the ocean gets its shit together.”

She kicks her legs uselessly in the air. “Seth!”

He’s already making a beeline for land. “What?”

“You are such a quitter!”

“I prefer pragmatist,” Seth says.

“You shit,” Kate says, seething.

“Jesus, Katie,” he says. “You kiss people with that mouth?”

She swears a nice, blue streak under her breath.

He puts her down on the dry sand, with the ocean a safe distance away. “You know, some guys don’t like cursing.”

“I don’t care what guys think,” Kate says. “And if I did, I’d know you find it weirdly sexy. So.”

He smacks his lips. “Well.”

She grins, victorious, and returns to her towel. “Now don’t talk to me,” she says. “I’m catching up on the sleep you denied me.”

“Kate.”

She puts her sunglasses on, and rests her arms under her head.

He absolutely does not find that her new position makes her boobs stick out. “Kate.”

Silence.

He drags the beach bag over with his foot. Pulls out another towel. He kicks her hat onto her chest, and sets his towel down.

“Hey!” Kate protests, putting her hat gently onto the chair. “What the hell?”

He lies down beside her, resting on his stomach. “Thought I’d join you.”

“Join me quietly,” Kate says, resuming her position. “I’m listening to the ocean.”

“Sure,” he says. “Whatever you want, Katie.”

She tugs down her sunglasses, just so he can know she’s glaring at him, before pushing them back onto the bridge of her nose.

It doesn’t take too long for her to fall into a light sleep.

He keeps watch.

“You know,” Seth says, and he’s not thinking about how this feels more like a date than last night, how this kind of feels like a venture to impress her- “I thought lobster was supposed to be fancy.”

“I think it is when you’re not in New England,” Kate says. “Harder to get, you know?”

Seth clicks his tongue. It’s just a step above a wooden shack, two floors. The front looks like a fish market, or what Seth assumes a fish market should look like. He’s not from around here. He’s not a fish expect. He picks up one of the lobsters, laid out on ice, feeling its weight in his palm. “Lot of money to pay for a giant bug.”

“Sir.” The teenager across the icebox looks at Seth with some mix of pity and contempt, which is pretty fresh for someone in a rubber smock. “Please don’t manhandle that unless you’re going to eat it.”

Seth drops it back into the ice. “Sorry.”

The kid sighs at him. “Do you need help picking a lobster?”

“Why?” Seth asks. He looks down to the one he just dropped. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Nothing.”

“So,” Seth says, reaching his fingers into the ice again. He finds he’s more immune to the cold than he was this morning, probably because he’s defied Poseidon and lived. He picks the bug back up, thrusting it at the kid. “This one.”

“Do you want us to cut it up for you?”

Seth looks down at it. “You don’t just…” He waves it back and forth. “Eat it like this?”

“We’ll cut it.”

“No,” Seth says, protectively pulling his lobster back. “I can do it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive,” Seth says.

“Do you want it boiled or grilled?” The kid asks, through grit teeth. “Sir?”

“Uh-“ Seth glances at Kate, who’s done a full heel turn and is now facing the road, like she’s literally pretending she’s never met Seth in her life. Brat. “Kate?”

“Hm?” she asks, not turning her head.

“Boiled or grilled?”

“Ask which way is more popular,” Kate says.

“Boiled,” the kid says, before Seth can repeat the question.

“Boiled, then,” the back of Kate’s head tells him.

“Boiled,” Seth repeats.

The kid’s already taken the bug and dropped it into the water. “Lemons and butter?”

“You know,” Seth tells Kate. “I really don’t think I’m being that embarrassing. I’ve done way worse. I haven’t even socked this kid yet, and he’s got such a smart mouth on him-“

“Oh my God.” Kate spins forward. “He’s literally asking if you want lemons and butter.”

“It’s the tone, Katie,” Seth says.

“We’ll take both, please,” Kate says, curling her fingers into the icebox. “Sorry.”

“Kate,” Seth says.

She puts her hand in his face. “How much for the lobster?”

He’s going to lick her palm. He’s going to, he’s gonna-

“Seth!” she wipes her hand on her skirt. “Ew!”

“It was the tip, first of all,” Seth says. “And second, don’t go sticking your hands in people’s faces! It’s rude!”

Kate rolls her eyes. “What are you?” she asks. “My dad?”

The kid is holding their lobster, looking between Seth and Kate. “Is he not… your dad?”

“I’m TWENTY-NINE,” Seth says. “You little-“

Kate takes their food. “Thanks. Thank you so much. We order fries inside, right? We just-“ She shoves the lobster at him, and he hadn’t even offered to carry it, and she’s such a presumptuous little shit. Really. He has no idea where she picked that up. “Inside.”

“This isn’t over,” Seth says, to the smart-mouthed shit in his shitty rubber apron. “I will be back out here.”

“Sure,” the kid says. “Sir.”

Seth’s almost miffed. “Am I losing my edge?”

“You never had an edge,” Kate says. “Go buy me onion rings.”

He looks down at her. And the lobster. And exhales through his nose. “Anything else?”

“Ask them what the difference between native shrimp and jumbo shrimp is,” Kate says.

“I would assume native shrimp are from around here,” Seth says.

She elbows him in the ribs.

“I’m carrying the food!” he says. “Watch it!”

She ignores his request, opting to plant her hands firmly on the counter, and lean far too close into the window. “What’s the difference between native and jumbo shrimp?”

Seth notices the necklace of the girl at the window. A small gold cross. He’d never gotten Kate a replacement. “Native are tiny,” she says. “Jumbo’s-“

“Jumbo,” Kate says.

“Yeah,” the girl says.

They laugh to each other, a small moment that makes something ache in Seth’s stomach.

Kate doesn’t even have friends her own age anymore.

“Seth,” Kate says, turning her head to him. “Do you like shrimp?”

“Not really,” he says.

“You do now,” Kate says. “Medium, please.”

“Medium rings,” Seth adds, gesturing with his index finger. “And uh- How do you fry an oyster?”

The girl stares blankly at him. “What?”

“Does the shell get soft when you fry it?” Seth says.

“We-“ She gives Kate a pitying sort of look, then returns her attention to Seth. “We take the meat out of the shell.”

“Oh.”

“Could we get a small of those?” Kate says. “Sounds exciting.”

“I’m not made of money,” Seth says. “We’re ordering an awful lot of fish considering only one of us enjoys it.”

“You’re literally ruining my life,” Kate says.

“Well,” Seth says. “When you put it like that.”

She grins at him, self-assured and teasing, and reaches around the back of his jeans.

He suppresses a shudder, eyes wide. “Kate-“

“Your wallet,” Kate says, plucking it from his pocket to wave in front of his face.

“Right.”

“There’s uh-“ The girl takes the money from Kate, putting it in the register on memory and issuing change without having to look. “There’s trivia upstairs. Tonight. It’s free.”

“Are there prizes?” Seth asks.

The girl considers it. “Street… cred?”

“Good enough,” he says, decidedly.

“We’ll-“ The girl couldn’t be more eager for Seth to leave. “We’ll call your number when the food is ready. There’s condiments over-“ She gestures.

“Thanks,” Kate tells her, and hands Seth his wallet back by slapping it into the middle of his chest.

“Yeah,” Seth says, taking his wallet back with a look (that Kate ignores). “Thanks.”

“Do you know what’s in tartar sauce?” Kate says. She leads him right past the bar, straight to the concessions. It’s about 1000 degrees in here, probably, and he feels so deeply for the kids working in the kitchen that he almost has a flashback. Right there. In public. “Seth?”

“I don’t know,” Seth says, waving off his thoughts. “Tartar?”

“Like the stuff on your teeth?” she asks.

“Is that what that’s called?” Seth asks.

Kate squeezes the tartar sauce into a tiny white paper cup. “Oh,” she says, ignoring his question. “It just looks like fancy mayonnaise.”

He sticks his pinky in, and tastes. “Yeah. It’s just fancy mayo.”

Kate follows his gesture, thoughtfully sucking on her pinky. “Yep.”

“I like ketchup better,” he decides, and he fills four tiny cups worth.

“That’s too much,” Kate tells him.

“It’s fine,” he says. “We can put it on the lobster.”

“You don’t put ketchup on lobsters,” Kate says.

“How would you know?” Seth asks.

“Because it was your idea,” Kate replies. “And you have no idea how to eat a lobster.”

“Wow.”

Their number is called, loudly and over a static frequency, and the tray has so much fried junk on it that Seth feels a little ill just looking at it.

“Oh my God,” Kate declares, setting her tiny thing of tartar sauce on the corner of the tray. “It’s amazing.”

He eyes her over a mountain of onion rings. “Yeah. You’re from Texas.”

“You’re from Kansas, shut up,” she retorts.

He almost trips out the door, and then again on the stairs leading to the upper level. Kate scowls at him, not seriously, almost cutely, and takes the shrimp box from the tray. “There,” she says. “Lighter load.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Really.”

“I mean, I’d hate for you to go back down and have to get everything all over again,” Kate says. She holds the door for him. “And you’d have fish all over your clothes, and you’d have to go see your nemesis, that lobster guy-“

“He is not my nemesis,” Seth says, beelining for the closest table. “He’s just a punk.”

Kate immediately takes an onion ring. Then, she considers Seth’s statement. Takes a bite, and leaves the onion ring hanging out of her mouth for a moment before sucking it in between her lips. Chews. Swallows. “Nah. You’re a punk.”

“Thanks,” Seth says.  He distributes the boxes of food and the plates and the lobster in it’s lobster thing and he stares at her eating, for a moment, the unabashed nature of it that reminds him more of himself than of Richard, but she doesn’t hunch over her food and she doesn’t rush. So maybe not that much like him at all.

Some kid drops a slip of paper and a half-sharp pencil on the table and he assumes this is how trivia night works, and he really needs a beer because this place is exactly the sort of loud and family-friendly he likes to avoid.

Also. Small thing. “Kate,” he says.

“Hmn?” she has either a mouthful of oyster or shrimp or both, it’s all kind of blending together in a fried fish mash on the table.

“How do we-“ He gestures at the lobster, and its beady little eyes. “Eat this thing?”

She juts out her lower lip. Shrugs her shoulders.

He tentatively reaches for it, holding it in his hand. “Do I just?” He flips it over, and holy shit, does this thing have a lot of ugly little legs. Seth takes one leg and pulls, and it comes clean off. “Oh, shit.”

“Weird,” Kate remarks.

“Patroooooons,” a voice croons over the intercom, and Seth and Kate both jolt. “Who’s ready for our next round of trivia?”

“Kate,” Seth says, putting the lobster back down. “Kate.”

“What?”

“If I die here tonight, do not let Richard have my car.”

“Can I have it?” she asks.

“Are you going to burn out the clutch?” he replies.

“Probably not?”

“Just push it into the marsh,” Seth says. “Okay?”

“Then how am I supposed to get home?” Kate says.

“Kate, you really should’ve thought of that before you brought me here.”

“Stop being such a drama queen,” Kate says.

Seth levels her gaze. “Never.”

“-starred in Billy the Kid,” the intercom says. “5 points to anyone that can name the star-“

“Paul Newman!” Seth yells, slamming his palm on the table. Kate just stares at him.

“Please write your answers on the scorecard.”

Seth grumbles, scribbling “NEWMAN” into the blank box of his card.

“Really?” Kate asks.

“I know the answer!” Seth says. “I only ever get trivia shit when it’s, you know-” He’s absently doodling on the scorecard, but doesn’t think much of it. “Movies.”

“We’re all very proud,” Kate says.

“Hey,” Seth says. “I might not be able to beat Richie at this shit, but I’ll pull my punches where I can get them.”

“Eat your shrimp,” Kate says.

“I don’t like shrimp,” Seth argues.

“You haven’t even tried it,” Kate says. “Try it.”

He takes a handful. And guess what? It’s shrimp.

“I don’t like this,” he says, mouth full.

“Ew,” Kate tells him. “Please swallow your food.”

He begrudgingly obliges, wincing the entire time.

“Wow,” Kate says. “I’ve seen you literally eat beef jerky you found in your car.”

“That wasn’t shrimp though, was it?” he says.

She just pulls the food closer to her, and glowers.

“Sir?” someone asks from over his shoulder, and Christ, how many kids do they have working at this place? It’s like a play place, but they’re handling the deep fryers instead of, you know. Having fun. “Can I check your card?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he slides the card over, as smugly as one can hand over a green, cut up piece of paper.

“That’s absolutely correct,” the girl tells him, leaving a check in the box next to his answer.

“Course it is,” Seth says. “What do I win?”

“Um.” She pushes her sweat-slick hair off her forehead. “There’s four more questions.”

“Are they all movie related?”

“…no,” she says, measuring her response. “It’s a mixed… bag.”

“Fuck,” Seth says. He pushes the card off the table. “I’m out.”

“Nice,” Kate remarks.

He lets out a huff, as the girl slowly tries to back away from their table. “Hey, kid?”

She chews on her cheek. “Yeah?”

He pushes the lobster in her general direction. “Do you know how to eat one of these?”

Despite herself, she grins. “Yes,” she sighs, mostly in relief. “I can help you with that. Let me go wash my hands.” She jots off to the bathroom, and Seth pretends to ignore the way Kate’s looking at him.

“Do you have to terrorize a bunch of teenagers?” Kate asks.

“Hey,” he says. “I had to do it when I was their age.”

“Oh, you mean when dinosaurs walked the earth?”

“Real nice way to talk about the guy you’re fucking,” Seth says.

Kate almost chokes on an onion ring.

It’s around their third hour of mindless TV that Kate puts her hand on his knee. It’s late, just a little past midnight. Dinner’s long since over, but the air’s as damp in the house as it was by the marshes. He thinks it’s just a state thing.

She squeezes his leg. “Do you want to have sex?”

“What, after watching all of-“ He gestures to what he thinks is probably an infomercial. “Really gets me going.”

She smacks his thigh, and he finds that more enticing than he should. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“This whole time?” he asks.

“This past hour, yeah,” Kate says. “On and off.”

“So you had to deliberate for an hour,” Seth says. “If you wanted to have sex.”

“I wanted to figure out if I was in the mood!” she protests. “Ass.”

“Well guess what?” Seth says. “Now I’m in the mood. So we’re doing it.”

“That was fast,” Kate says.

“Yep.”

“Not even a full minute,” she tells him.

“Do you want to ride my dick or not?” he asks. “Because I’ve got two hands.”

She straddles his lap, decidedly locking her hands behind his neck. “Then put them to good use,” she says. “Idiot.”

He threads his fingers through her hair and kisses her. It’s a practiced familiarity, the measurement of her weight against his, the size of her body in his arms. She kisses fiercely, deliberately, in a way he hadn’t really thought about kissing until she’d started it.

She tugs off her old, worn tee shirt, discarding it by the coffee table. He moves to her waist, the predetermined fragility of it and the actual fierceness of Kate, made a point by the way she undulates her hips against his.

“So that hour you took,” Seth says, nipping at the place where her neck meets her shoulder. “Was that thought, or were you just getting revved up?”

She pulls at his shirt, a reminder that things should be level. He obeys. Lets her dig her fingers into his biceps. A brace. A hold. She leans in and he meets her halfway, making a small noise in the back of his throat.

He sometimes prefers the way she grabs his arms to how she takes his hand. Her grip has an insistence to it, a bossiness that he wants to yield to.

She plants her knees firmly on either side of his lap, lifting her hips. She hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her underwear, sliding it over her legs and discarding it somewhere on the floor. Firmly seats herself back against him, over the bulge in his boxers.

“You should consider wearing thicker clothes to bed,” Kate says, lacing her fingers into his hair.

He scoffs. “And deny you all this?”

“Please,” she tells him.

“Please, what?” he asks.

Kate cocks her head. “You trying to get me to call you something? Like, please, Da-“

“Stop,” Seth blurts out, nearly dropping her out of his lap. He doesn’t think about that sentence reaching completion, because he doesn’t want to think about where he’d be, as a person, if it did.

The deep hell. That’s where. The deep, deep sex hell.

“I just wanted you to ask me to take off my clothes,” Seth says. “Jesus, Kate.”

“Don’t have a heart attack,” Kate says.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he says, nudging her aside so he can begrudgingly take off his underwear.

“You’re getting up there,” Kate says. “The risk only increases with old age.”

“Are you trying to kill my boner?” he says. “Because really. Keep going on like that.”

“Shut up, Seth,” she says, and she moves in like a fucking banshee, like a soul-sucker, like the kind of person he needs on top of him. She kisses him as she bucks against him, not riding him, just teasing him instead.

“Kate,” he mumbles, mostly into her mouth.

“Grab my hips,” she says, and he does.

She sinks onto him, letting out a sigh of relief or relaxation or enjoyment, it’s hard to tell which, and she’s always the right kind of feeling that makes his vision cross.

She moves against his lap, riding him like a gold medal athlete, like a champ, like Kate, his Kate, and he closes his eyes and presses his lips to her temple. “That’s right, princess,” he says. “Just like that.”

She only replies with a groan.

When the night is at it’s darkest, pitch-black and seemingly starless, Kate nudges him awake with her elbow. When he only whines in response, she takes to shoving him until he rolls over, still only half-conscious, not even awake enough to see her outline in bed. “What?”

“I can’t sleep,” Kate says. “I want to go for a drive.”

He bats his hand at what he thinks is her face, trying to keep her head on the pillow. “Kate.”

“You could just lend me the keys,” Kate says.

“We went over this,” he mumbles. “Just close your eyes and try to relax.”

“I’ve been trying,” Kate says. “For like, two hours.”

It gives him pause. Something, even in the depths of his sleep-addled brain, tells him that this is one of those off things. One of those things that they won’t fully address, but that she’ll make him aware of. “Bad dreams?”

“I don’t really remember my dreams anymore,” Kate says. “When I close my eyes, it’s just… empty.”

He doesn’t speak. He just listens to the even sound of her breathing.

“That’s worse, I think.”

“Sounds like hell.”

“It wasn’t hell,” she says, and he doesn’t think she’s talking about sleep anymore. “It wasn’t anything. That’s the problem. I never got to-“

“Kate,” he says. “Maybe you just weren’t dead long enough to go to heaven.”

She doesn’t say anything. Nothing at all.

“You want to go for a drive?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she says.

“Then we’ll drive,” he tells her. And that’s that.

They end up at a tiny beach, where nearly impossible to make out the shore, save for the orange-yellow of the single street light. She curls her knees up to her chest, watching the ocean come to shore.

“You didn’t tell me it was raining,” he says, shifting the car into park.

“It’s barely raining,” she says. “It’s misting.”

The car door creaks open, and he watches as she lops her legs into the fog and disappears out of the car. “Kate.”

No reply.

He sighs, slinging off his seatbelt and wincing as it clacks against the door. “Shit,” he mumbles, fumbling with the handle. He pulls himself from the car, slamming the door behind him. “Katie?”

“I didn’t think they still did this, for some reason,” Kate says. He can see her silhouetted by the street light, body cloaked in fog. “Which is stupid, of course they’d still do it, but I guess I’m so far away from this kind of thing that-“

“Kate,” he says. “Do what?”

“Look,” she tells him. “Out on the water. You can see the lighthouse going.”

He turns his gaze to the horizon. “Yeah. I guess you can.”

“And do you hear that?” she asks. “That’s a foghorn.”

“It’s obnoxious,” he remarks.

He can feel her shaking her head. He doesn’t even need to see her to know that she disagrees. That she’s feeling something greater, something more poetic. “I never thought that people would be like, out on the water this late, you know? I don’t know anything about boats or fishing or-“ She trails off. “It’s dangerous out there, I think. People need to find their way home.”

“I guess.”

“Seth?”

He turns back to her. “Hm?”

“Let’s go see how cold the water is.”

“Kate,” he says, pleasing. “It’s raining. We-“

She puts her shoes on top of the car, much to his chagrin.

“The paint,” he says. She’s already hopped down from the parking lot to the beach, and he has to take a moment to pull off his shoes and his socks. And leave them on top of the car. “I’m barely even awake right now,” Seth groans. He follows in her wake.

“Careful,” she warns. “It gets rocky close to the sea. Don’t cut your feet.”

“Kind of late for that,” he says. It’s not just rocky, it’s slippery and wet and cold. Exactly the things he wants to feel at three in the morning.

“Seth?” she asks, not turning to face him.

He, for some reason, feels wary to stand at her heels. Like he should be further back. Like he should watch her stand in the sea. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for getting up for me.”

He ignores his original impulse. Circles his arms around her waist. “Of course, Katie,” he says. He rests his chin on her head, and says nothing more.

In the morning, though his stomach groans for coffee and fried eggs, and though the fridge is bare and the house doesn’t even have a fucking coffee machine- He waits. He could go down the street, to the local five and dime, grab a coffee and a muffin, but his body stays rooted on the couch, watching shitty mid-morning TV.

Kate sleeps in, and he lets her. He’ll wake her tomorrow, and they’ll try the beach again.

He’s not sure if she fell asleep when they got back. If she’s sleeping at all, or if she’s just upstairs, counting her inhales and exhales. He’d caught himself doing it early this morning, and had stopped himself somewhere around one hundred fifty nine. It had felt invasive. Paranoid.

  Sometime around eleven-thirty, her footsteps grace the staircase, lumbering with the ambivalence of someone wondering if they should’ve gotten out of bed.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

“Eh,” she says. “Better than I thought I would.” She makes her way to the couch, landing firmly in his lap without pretense. “Thanks for not waking me up.”

“I figured I could be an asshole tomorrow,” Seth says, rubbing his hand on her leg.

“You’re an asshole every day,” Kate says. “But thanks for not actively acting on those impulses.”

She adjusts her seat, only accidentally elbowing him in the stomach twice.

“Do we have anything to eat?” she asks. “We should probably grab food if we’re gonna be here another five days.”

“Probably,” he says, settling his arms around her hips. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Those Twizzlers we got at the drug store last night,” Seth says.

“You didn’t go out and get something?” Kate asks.

“I wanted to wait for you.”

“So you’re starving,” Kate says.

“Famished,” Seth replies.

“I could get dressed,” Kate says. “We could go downtown, and-“

“We’ve been downtown,” Seth says. “We should go somewhere else. Look it up in that brochure.”

“Every time I look something up in the brochure, you complain about it incessantly,” Kate says.

He noses at her hair. “I do that with everything.”

He can practically feel the face she’s making at him. “Fair.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he adds.

“You have no charm,” she tells him.

He kisses the back of her neck, delighted when she shudders against him. “Really?”

She pushes off his lap, smacking at his arm. “Really.”

For a moment he just lets her glare at him, and grins in response.

“You should shave,” Kate says.

“You like my beard.”

“I’ve never said that,” Kate says.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching for the expanse of her thigh. “But you seem to like it when it’s in between-“

“Seth,” she says. “I just woke up.”

“It’s 11:30!”

“Get dressed,” she says. “I’m starving to death, over here.”

“Always with the dramatics,” Seth says, lumbering off the couch. “You should’ve been an actress, Kate.”

“I learned from the best,” she replies, following him back upstairs.

“I’m not dramatic,” he says. “Kate! I’m the least dramatic person you’ll ever meet. There’s nothing dramatic about me. Kate, I am so not dramatic it’s not even funny. Stop ignoring me.”

He reaches for his wallet, something he finds himself doing a lot more on vacation than he does any other time of the year. “I don’t see why I have to pay for it when you won’t even let me have ice cream.”

“Because you’re lactose intolerant,” Kate tells him, drumming her fingers on the countertop. “And we just had lunch. I don’t want you throwing it up.”

“Technically, it was brunch,” Seth says, handing the girl behind the counter a $20. “And I keep telling you, lactose intolerance is-“

“Not a conspiracy, Seth,” Kate says. “It’s very real, and you have it.”

“Then why did I have 3 grilled cheese sandwiches the night before we left for vacation?” Seth says. The girl hands him back his change, and he leaves his coins in the tip jar before he can remember to be cheap.

Kate holds her cup of ice cream in one hand, white plastic spoon in the other. “Because you’re an idiot,” Kate says. “And you had the runs until like, 1AM, to the point where I was like, 90% sure we weren’t going to actually get to leave because you. Are. An idiot.”

He waves her off. “I just drank too much,” he says. “I eat lactose or whatever all the time and I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Kate says. “But my ice cream is going to melt if I have this argument with you, so I’m going to go outside and enjoy this in peace.”

Seth rolls his eyes at her. “Women,” he offers to the cashier, before noting that she and Kate are probably around the same age. “I’ll-“ he looks to the door. “I’ll go.”

He diligently follows Kate out of the store, trying to bury his head between his shoulders.

Kate settles at the outside table, tucked away on a small lawn that leads out to the harbor. This town is structured nonsensically, with one long, winding street, and then narrow alleyways spreading outwards like veins. He doesn’t know how anyone lives here, let alone runs a business. But there’s enough people enjoying themselves that he’s positive of one thing: everyone here is wrong. Except for him.

“You look thoughtful,” Kate says, pulling her spoon out of her mouth. “All good?”

“I’m just trying to figure out-“ He gestures to the harbor, to the boats, to the rows of shops and homes lining the waterfront atop rocky hills. “How people live like this.”

Kate looks at him, then out at the water, then back to him. “You mean peacefully?”

“No,” he grumbles.

She takes another spoonful of ice cream.

“Maybe,” Seth says. “I mean, it’s all so historic and quaint and old and shit. And there’s so many boats.”

“You’re the one who wants to die on a beach,” Kate says. “This is a beach town.”

“Just not what I pictured, is all,” he says.

“Well, it’s not all like this,” Kate says. “But I wouldn’t mind if it was.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“It’s quiet,” Kate says. “Familial. Everyone knows each other. I think you like being a stranger to people. I don’t think you should.”

A pause. His response is to give her a once over, and withhold the indignant huff he feels in swelling his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Kate says. “You’d rather people find you standoffish than get to know you.”

“And why’s that?” Seth asks.

Kate meets his gaze. “Because your heart’s too big,” she says. “And you’re embarrassed.”

He kisses her. Hand on her knee, her body tucked neatly next to his. When she responds in earnest, forgetting her food on the table to tug his hair- He slides his hand up her to her thigh.

“Seth-“

“No one’s back here,” he says. “It’s a weekday.”

“No,” Kate says, squirming against his hand. “You shouldn’t kiss me. I’ve been eating ice cream. You’ll get sick.”

He gently pinches her inner thigh. “You brat.”

She grins against him, shifting her chair. No one passing by would be able to see her tiny body past his much larger one, though Seth thinks the idea of being seen is part of the thrill.

Whatever, though. Her rules.

“So you had an issue with that,” he walks his hand under her skirt. “But not this?”

She slides her hips forward, letting his fingertips brush her underwear. “Like you said,” she says. “No one’s here.”

“C’mere,” he says, pulling her onto his lap with his free hand. She settles on his knee, letting him coil his grip in her hair. He knuckles against her clit, watching her drag her lower lip against her teeth. Exhale.

She rocks against his hand, letting out a small, mewling sound.

“Shh,” he says, tugging her hair. “Let’s keep this private.”

She responds by nipping at his neck, before latching on like a lamprey- He feels a flash of something terrible and familiar, but the feeling of her against his fingers is enough to make him let it go.

“You’re gonna give me a hickey,” he says, pushing her underwear aside. “That what you want?”

She hums against him.

“Fine,” he says. He slips an easy finger into her, feeling her breath hitch and her body tense. “We play it your way, baby.”

She lolls her head back, humping his hand. “You could use another,” Kate says, seemingly frustrated by the leisurely pace of his hand.

“Oh, didn’t you notice?” Seth says. “It’s a lazy Wednesday. No one’s around, and I-“ He teases her with a second finger, before curling it away. “Have got nothing but time.”

“Seth!” she hisses.

“Love it when you say my name, babygirl,” he replies.

This time when they kiss, she bites his lower lip.

Kate’s got an air of smugness to her that he only sort of finds attractive, mostly just finds endearing, like she’s doing some kind of stride of pride even though he’s the one sporting two enormous, shiny hickies. “How is Richie on Dolphins?” she asks, pulling a small figurine off the shelf.

He’s lost track of time. From the ice cream place to now, he’s lost count of how many useless souvenirs he’s seen. Did people really think seashells were worth money? He could find those on his own. Like, easily. “Not a fan,” Seth says. “He goes on about how they’re like, smart enough to be malicious or some shit, I don’t know. But it’s a negative.”

She exchanges the dolphin on the shelf for a shark. “Sharks?”

“Do we really need to get our brothers gifts now?” Seth asks. “Because I saw a sign for a place that does enormous cookies up the street, and considering I had to watch you eat an entire cup of ice cream in front of me-“

“We can get you a giant cookie,” Kate says. “Brat.”

“My word, actually,” Seth says, watching Kate quickly pull something off a different rack. “Nice grab.”

“Shut up,” she says, draping an actual, literal scarf over his shoulders, and then wrapping it around his neck. “There,” Kate says. “You’re a virgin again.”

“Wow,” Seth says, tugging at the silky material. “That’s uncomfortable.”

“I think you look nice,” Kate says.

“I look like an idiot,” Seth says.

“You always do,” she reminds him, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him before he can protest. “Giant cookie?”

He takes the scarf off and studies it for a moment. It’s just some ugly beach print, and it’s certainly not worth the price tag.

Sighing, he shoves the damn thing into his back pocket, and then takes Kate’s waiting hand. “Giant cookie.”

She grins at him.

Something in him sings, though he says nothing at all.