














The universe, however, has other plans. A wave, bigger than the knee knockers we’ve felt so far, pelts into us, lifting the water thigh-high and shoving Danika backwards. I’m not prepared for the force of the wave or her weight. We topple. Me landing on my ass, holding onto Danika’s waist so she doesn’t somersault over me and to the shore. Within seconds, the water retreats back into the abyss. Danika stands, looking down at her soaked dress, one part shocked and the other part horrified.
I push to my feet. My head is spinning for the first time in months. I may drink a lot, but I know my limits; dancing a fine line between buzzed and tipsy more often than I’m comfortable admitting out loud, but never drunk.
This spinning, spiraling feeling is all Danika.




