Bane screwed other people in his room like he was trying to break some kind of record.

They were loud and lewd, and there wasn’t a door separating his bedroom from the tiny living area.

But every time I thought about packing a bag and going to a hotel, I remembered the thoughts about the unknown with Theo and the known and devastating about Trent were going to haunt me, and I changed my mind.

This was another night on the sofa.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

I wished Bane had gotten rid of that clock after he’d gotten this boat. It seemed to have served as a reminder it’d been days since I’d seen both Trent and Theo.

And Luna. God, I missed Luna more than I’d expected to. The little sounds she made when she was amused or eager. They’d been my trophies for making her smile.

In the distance, I heard fishermen walking, chatting, and spitting, their heavy steps making the wood beneath their rubber shoes creak. It must’ve been dawn. They always came before the sun was out. Funny, the things you learn about a new place to make it your home. Noises, sounds, habits, people, smells…

The boat creaked.

That’s the thing about living on a boat. Everything throws your world off-balance. Bane loved it. Living on the edge of everything. Me, I craved stability. I wanted to feel like I was rooted into the ground, not blowing in the wind.

Something dropped outside on the deck. Something…light. I craned my neck, peering toward the small window by the door. It was dirty and made of cheap plastic. But I could see something. Someone. Someone who shouldn’t have been there.

Carefully, I got up from the sofa and tiptoed to the makeshift kitchen. An open jar of peanut butter was on the counter and a half-licked sharp knife on the edge of the sink.

I grabbed it, for once thankful Bane had the tendency to use a steak knife to make anything, even peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I passed by Bane’s open room, wondering if I should wake him up. Probably not. It was probably one of his drunk friends, passing out on the deck or pissing into the bucket he kept there for when he went fishing. Slipping into my Dr. Martens, I opened the door a few inches and peeked outside through the slit.

Nothing.

No one.

I looked down. There was a pile of seashells waiting in front of the door. I opened it wider and walked out. The shells were from the same kind. Yellow Prickly Cockle. Not too rare, but your chances of picking a handful of seashells and finding the exact same type were slim. Seashells are like people. They differ in size, color, and shape, but all are beautiful all the same. I squatted down, taking one in my hand. It was still cold and fresh from the ocean. I squinted my eyes, staring ahead at the pink, purple, and blue of the sunrise, looking for the person who’d left them, when my eyes rested on another pile by the stairway leading to the deck.

More shells.

Walking over to where they were, my heart began to pound more furiously. A cluster of Jewel Box shells, rare and gorgeous, was waiting for me. Cold. Fresh. How?

I picked one and pocketed it along with the Prickly Cockle. Then moved forward, descending to the pier, where another pile waited.

Rose Murex. I pocketed one. Moved forward.

Periwinkle. Jesus, how? How? Pocket.

I jogged from the pier to the promenade, eager to find out the meaning of all this.

Lion’s Paw.

Banded Tulip.

Turrid.

Pointed Venus, and I was so far from the marina, I had to look up and see where I’d stopped. There were no more shells to collect, and I was standing in the middle of the promenade, panting, still wearing an oversized shirt I’d borrowed from Bane, my hair a matted mess. I looked around me. All the shops were closed. What did it mean? What in the hell was happening here?

Pointed Venus.

Where was it pointing? I looked straight to the direction of the sharp edge of the shell. It was an alleyway. An alleyway I remembered. An alleyway where I’d left one of my sweetest, roughest, most heart-defining memories.

It was where Trent had shoved me against the wall for the first time, threatening me, taunting me, calling me out on my bullshit.

On shaking legs, I crossed the road. My whole body was humming a song I didn’t know. I felt so alive I thought I was going to scream. The hope it filled me with was dangerous. It threatened to crush me to pieces if it was wrong. I walked into the bluish dawn readily, knowing it could give me all the light I needed.

“Trent?” His name sounded like a wish. What was I doing, hoping to see him there?

But I heard nothing. I took another step, pressing my back against the same wall, at the same spot we’d met for the first time, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.