“No. My mom is deathly afraid of the ocean.” He rolls his eyes. “We live right here on the water. And we don’t even have a boat.”

“Then what do you need protection from?”

He gives me that little smirk from earlier. But there’s honesty in his eyes this time.

“Myself, mostly.” He moves in closer, and he’s really staring at me now. My face flushes, and I feel his breath on the top of my head. “What do you need protection from, Avril?”

“Nothing,” I tell him. But he’s still staring at me. I’m relieved when the others emerge out of the fog then, sandy and stringy-haired and yawning. I see Lex take note of the way Cole and I are standing close together. The way his eyes are locked on mine.

And then I feel that warm breath on the top of my head again. Heat. And proximity. “What do you need protection from, Avril?”

Cole is staring down at me. Waiting for an answer. I look around. We’re alone. Where is everyone?

“I . . .”

I blink. And the others are stepping toward us out of the fog. Again. Lex cuts his eyes toward Cole. Then me. Just like before.

The sand shifts under my feet, and I lose my balance. Cole shoots out a hand to steady me. “Easy,” he says, but I take a stumbling step back. Away from him.

The beer is making me woozy. Everything feels strange.

Off-kilter.

Jude smothers the fire with sand. Val gathers up the empty beer bottles. Someone rolls up the blanket.

Everyone is quiet as we start back toward the theatre together. The fog follows us up the boardwalk and over the dunes, across a salt marsh where the sickly sweet smell of mud and rot fills up my nose. The overwhelming scent of decay.

And then we’re deposited on thick grass. The boardwalk spits us out and we bunch up, tripping over each other as we struggle to get our shoes on.

We make our way up the great sloping lawn toward the cluster of buildings gathered at the top of the hill. The big yellow farmhouse where we all ate dinner earlier this evening. The red barn theatre. And the twin blue cabins on the other side of the field.

In the thick fog, I can just barely make out a green-striped awning extending off the back of the farmhouse.

The sea porch.

I know that somehow. I hadn’t remembered it earlier when I saw it at dinner. But I know it now.

I remember it.

Cole says good night when we reach the gravel driveway, and Jude starts off toward the cabins. Lex and Val follow him, but when I turn to go with them, Cole grabs my hand to stop me. His touch is hot against my skin. I feel that shifting sand beneath my feet, even though I’m standing on solid ground now.