Tegan, July

The bonfire popped and crackled on the beach, swirling embers into the breeze. Brendon’s music roared through my body, propelling me as I danced.

Shoes—gone.

Sweater—off.

Brendon put on my top and pranced around as if he were me, making everyone laugh. I twirled in my jeans and star-spangled bikini top, arms high, feet stomping and twisting in the sand, girls and guys all over me, grinding and kissing. Silken skin. Warm fingers. Hot tongues. Fun.

Grady watched, his eyes as big as an owl’s, worried. I waved at him, the ogre.

Then he strode over and tried to get me to stop, to go home. “You’re high,” he screamed over the music. “Let’s go.”

I peered up at our glass-prism house on the cliff, a nest for eagles. “I can fly,” I said.

Grady wiped his face. “You can’t fly, Pea. Let’s go home.” He grabbed my arm, and I fought him like a marlin at the end of a fishing line.

“Let her go.” It was Marcus, shorter than Grady but bigger.

“What did she take?” my brother shouted.

“Love, man. Just love.” Marcus’s shirt was off, and I ran a hand down his chest, curious. He looked rugged in the firelight, like a cowboy, with his storm-cloud eyes and bearded jaw, his low-slung hat. Why did I hate him so much? I couldn’t remember.

He drew me in and we danced, gliding away from Grady. My brother, watched us go. A lost boy. I wiggled my fingers at him and then forgot him as Marcus and I spun closer to the flames. He licked my neck, and my head fell back. I laughed. His hand slipped inside my bikini top and his fingers knew right where to touch, like Jake’s. My Jake.

Jessica watched us from the shadows, her face scrunched like a pig’s.

Marcus leaned toward my ear. “I got something to show you.” His arm snaked around my waist, and we began to walk away, toward the cave where couples had been disappearing all night.

But the dark opening in the cliff gaped like a monster’s mouth. “No,” I managed, my tongue thick, my jaw clenched. The cave was full of teeth and blood. I didn’t want to go there.

His arm locked around my waist like a roller-coaster restraint, no getting off until the ride was over.

“You fucking bitch!” Shawna flew up from her Adirondack chair and ripped Marcus away from me, but I’d already forgotten where we were going, what we were doing.

“What did you call me?” I asked her, light-headed.

She pushed me, and I fell onto the sand, and my bikini top barely held me in. Our friends laughed, and phones appeared in their hands, like evil eyes, recording, recording. Shawna stood over me, spit flying from her mouth. “You think you can have anyone you want, don’t you?”

I forced myself to my feet, my head clearing just enough to fight back. “I can have anyone I want.” I adjusted my bikini top and leaned toward Marcus, ignoring the rot I felt in my stomach.

Jeers arose around us, and I blinked, confused about the battle I was fighting.

Shawna inhaled so deeply, I thought she might pop. “That’s a lie. You can’t have Jake Healy. You begged him to come back after he dumped you.”

My breath hissed from my lips. “He didn’t dump me.”

Then the bonfire popped again, shooting embers into the night sky, and Jessica appeared, shrouded in smoke, Chloe by her side—my former friends. Jessica’s gaze impaled me like a challenge, and Chloe crossed her arms, the ever-vigilant sidekick.

I stepped back, reeling, slipping. Behind me, the dark water was smooth, a rare miracle for the Pacific. “I can have anybody,” I repeated, throwing a violent glance toward the boys. “If I wanted Jake, he’d come back to me.”

Jessica’s expression melted and reformed into metallic rage. An answering ripple shot through Chloe. I felt naked in front of them.

“You always want what you can’t have,” Jessica growled.

My eyelashes fluttered and the party felt ruined, but I could save this moment. I would not go down at my own bonfire. I straightened and dug into my ammunition for my greatest weapon, my smile, the big one, the one that said, I’m prettier than you, richer than you, smarter than you, and better than you. I beamed it out and blinded everyone with it. The phones dropped, the mood shifted. I lifted one shoulder, casual, effortless. “I’ll tell y’all what I want,” I said, voice sultry. “I want to go night swimming. Anyone brave enough to join me?”

Without waiting, I shed my jeans and walked into the water in my swimsuit, followed by Brendon and Chiara, several boys, and one very angry girl—Jessica Sanchez.