Whoever you are, you have my phone. I want it back.

My brain stops working for a second. It’s three-thirty in the morning. This was bound to happen.

Panic. And no text from Maya.

I decide to stall and play dumb. Who is this?

I’m Daniel Woodward. You have my phone. Who is this?

It rings again and I answer.

“You left your phone in my Lift today,” I say.

“Man, I thought someone stole it. I’m coming. Where are you?”

“It’s the middle of the night. Can’t this wait until the morning?”

“I’ll get you a beer or something. Don’t Lift drivers wake up early anyway?”

“Not this one,” I say.

“Come on, man. My flight back to New York is in a few hours. Just give me an address.”

I groan. He can accuse me of theft if I don’t give it back. I know I have to.

The phone vibrates as I’m giving him the bus stop’s address; it’s a message from Maya.

Sorry it took me a while to answer. I’ve been thinking. I don’t usually do this; I want you to know that. But there’s something about today that’s different—I don’t know what—but I’d love to spend the last few hours of my birthday watching the sunrise… with you. I’ll be there at six.

The worst of timings. Absolute worst. The most perfect day, the most perfect girl and here I am, about to meet her boyfriend to give him back his phone. And this is how it ends.

I could still go and meet her, talk to her. Explain. Ask her to understand. Say that it started as a joke, but it soon turned into something I never expected. Ask her to forgive me.

I keep looking for reasons why I should and why I’d be stupid not to, but a voice is telling me this isn’t right, and it doesn’t make any sense. I could’ve done it earlier, at the fire. Or at dinner. Had so many opportunities, but something held me back. The same something that’s stopping me now. All the signs are pointing me in the opposite direction. That’s why Daniel called now. That’s why she hesitated. Because it’s not meant to be.

I walk on the beach and plan to take a left where it meets Ocean Avenue, when I see something in the sand, in the spot where Maya and I sat earlier today, ate our snacks and drank our juices. Together but separate. It makes me sad thinking I missed the opportunity to get to know her better, to spend this day with her, not just watching her and watching out for her, but looking into her eyes and hearing her voice. I wish I had been bolder. But it’s too late for regrets.

At first, I think I imagine it and get closer. It is Maya. She fell asleep on the beach. I approach as slowly as I can, afraid I will wake her up and then stand there looking at her, wondering what it could’ve been had we met under different circumstances.