I force myself to calm down, to focus on the basics—breathe, float, swim.
But the shore looks impossibly far away, and every kick feels like I’m fighting against the entire ocean. And we’re the only ones around.
When I finally make it to what I think is the shore, relief crashes over me—until I make contact with something hard, and realize I’ve swum straight into a jagged rock bed.
Waves slap against the rocks, throwing me against them, and I remember Timmy mentioning spiky sea urchins living in places like this.
I freeze. My breathing is shallow, but I force myself to stay calm. Slowly, carefully, I edge along the rocks until I see sand. Inch by inch, I maneuver myself to safety, my arms and legs trembling from exertion and fear.
When I finally collapse onto the beach, I look out to see Timmy still swimming, completely unaware—or uncaring—about what just happened.
I stomp back to the truck, seething. My adrenaline is still spiking, and my mind races.
I was out there, panicking,alone—and he didn’t care. Instead, he laughed and swam away.
I furiously tap in the truck’s door code and hop in. I’m tempted to leave him stranded, but I don’t know where he’s hidden the truck keys. So I wait, simmering in my rage, as he enjoys the swim of a lifetime.
When he finally strolls back up the beach, he’s beaming. “We didn’t see any dolphins, but that was an epic swim. I feel great!” His tone is so light, so carefree—it’s like he’s mocking me. “You came back early. Did you enjoy it?”
“Timmy, I almost fucking drowned out there!” I snap, my voice sharp and trembling.
He blinks, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You knocked my snorkel off, and I panicked! I was flailing around, and you didn’t even care! You just laughed and swam off!”
“Oh, my bad,” he shrugs. “I didn’t notice. Sorry.”
“And then I tried to get back to shore because I was freaking out, and I got disoriented and swam into the rocks, Timmy.”
“Oh.” He seems unconcerned.
“I couldn’t get out, and I thought there might be sea urchins. I remember you warning me about them.”
He scoffs, like I’m being dramatic. “Sea urchins wouldn’t be onthatside of those rocks, silly. They’d get washed away by the waves. You were fine.”
“You didn’t even know I was there!”I snap. My voice cracks with the weight of everything—the fear, the anger, the complete lack of care.
“Well,” he says, his tone shifting to something patronizing, “now that you mention it, I’m actually impressed you swam out that far. We were outreallyfar. I didn’t think you’d do it. But you did great!” He smiles, as if that erases everything.
I glare at him, my chest tight with rage. “I trusted you to make sure I was safe. That’s the only reason I went out so far. I wish I’d at least brought my fins.”
“Relax,” he says, waving me off. “We’ll come out again to see the dolphins another time, and you can bring your fins.”
But I’m in no rush for a repeat.
The idea of swimming with wild dolphins out in the ocean has lost all its magic.
Just like everything else.
CHAPTER 46
BACK-BURNER BARBIE AND CAPTAIN DELULU (ARE MADE FOR EACH OTHER)
MARGAUX
A FEW DAYS LATER
Me: