“Are we seriously doing this right now?” He asked, fear a quiet spark in his voice.

“First you make me drive, and then you vandalize me?” He looked down from the road every other second, nervously watching the progress I made on his hand.

“Can you stop being such a baby for, like, one second?” I wondered, muttering “it’s just the pinky, god.”

I finished the last stripe of polish, holding his hand up to the light before allowing him to rip it out of my grasp.

He exhaled dramatically when both hands were back on the wheel, even though the only other passengers on the strip of highway were seagulls.

My stomach fizzed like soda as I watched him watch the road, his face intensely focused as it often was these days.

“C’mon,” I whined, turning to sit cross legged in the passengers seat, ignoring his eye roll at the way I managed to dislodge my seatbelt.

“It looks pretty. Pretty like you,” I said, drawing out the ooo until I saw a blush on his cheek.

“It looks illegal, is what it looks like. We took drivers ed together - remember them saying that two hands on the wheel is kind of the most important part?”

“Beauty is pain,” I responded, like it made sense.

“Live on the edge! Take some chances! Taste the rainbow!” he crowed, voice pitched up and warbly to imitate mine.

His teasing should have bothered me, but instead my chest felt fuzzy and warm, bright like a summer peach.

I continued to sit sideways in my seat, drumming lightly on his knee. The opening bars of the next song reverberated in the car and a grin stretched across my face at the familiar beat.

“Wise men say… Only fools rush in...” I let the words build until I was yelling as childishly as I had when we were little, jumping to this song in my living room instead of the Pacific Coast Highway.

Daniel looked at me from the corner of his eye, his face stoic but his mouth quirked at the corners. I folded myself over the console, bouncing on my knees with every beat. His face finally bloomed into a smile - and not a show smile, the loose, lopsided one he usually kept hidden.

My fingers twitched in my lap, aching to stretch out and run along the curve of his lip. It hit me like a tidal wave, one of those sharp moments where I love him so much it’s hard not to be loud about it. I settled for grabbing his arm instead, forcing him to rock along with me.

He looked over, smiling like a star. That grin twisted something in my heart - I couldn’t differentiate between the joy of seeing that smile and the pain of knowing that soon I might never see it again.

I stopped singing.

“We're almost there,” I noticed, my stomach sinking as the waves along the road threatened to turn into buildings.

“Almost,” He murmured distractedly, beginning to feel around by his feet, one hand precariously on the wheel.

“So much for ‘two hands on the wheel’”, I teased as he emerged with a pack of flash cards and a look of victory on his face.

“We have half an hour”, he said, tension building in his voice.

“Can we please just go over this again? Be serious.”

My smile sagged. I straightened my shoulders, deepening my voice and looking at the first flash card.

“What would you contribute to our campus?”

My voice came out comically serious, and I began to laugh before I saw Daniel’s hand tense on the wheel. He glanced at the dash intently.

“El,” he started, his voice sharp.

“Um, yeah?” I answered nervously. “Sorry, that was dumb. I just wanted to make you laugh. Sorry.”

His arm waved in front of my face, shushing me as the car began to growl louder than the echo of the waves on the rocks.

Oh, no.

I deflated like a balloon as Daniel steered the car to the dirt shoulder, his breaths coming quicker.

We rolled to a stop, the car giving a final heave just as the last tire left the road.

“Eleanor. Did you fill the car?” He said, voice flat. “Did you fill the car?” he repeated when I sat silent, voice sharper.

I wanted to melt into the seat, or transform into the coastal wind that swirled through the open windows.

“I’m so, so sorry.” I supplied meekly, keeping my eyes trailed on the worn carpet of the car.

My face burned with shame as I recalled why I had gotten in and out at the gas station without actually gassing up the car - I had been distracted by the sight of Daniel curled up in the passengers seat, soft and loose with sleep, calmer than he’d been in weeks. I’d stared until he woke up, looking at me quizzically before I passed it off as inspecting the gas lid.

“I don’t understand how you could do this.” He said, voice trailing up at the end like it was a question.

“God, get out. Try to flag someone down, or whatever. I’m going to call AAA. I swear, if I miss this interview-” He choked off, anger, or tears, or pain thick in his voice.

I slid out of the car as quietly as I could, abandoning my sandals so I could feel the dust burn the soles of my feet.

The water looked deep and inviting. It seemed wrong to think it, but it was true. I shivered, picking at the fraying edge of my shorts as I stared down. The harder I focused, the louder the waves seemed to crash, thundering in my head until they nearly drowned out the sound of Daniel speaking hurriedly into his phone, his voice an ugly contrast to the way we laughed just moments ago.

I imagined myself climbing over the safety rope, digging my toes into the edge of the cliff and shooting off in a perfect swan dive, softly melting into the water, fingers first. I took a step.

“Please, Sir, this is completely unlike me - it was a fluke accident, I’ll reschedule at your convenience if you’ll let me - it means so much-” His voice was fragmented with worry and regret twisted in my stomach. I tore my eyes away from the sea to glance back at him.

He leaned against the car, one hand clicking frantically on his phone and the other shielding his eyes from the Californian sun, despite the fact that he had sunglasses atop his head.

“Did he hang up on you?” My voice was small. I half-hoped the waves would carry the words away but they echoed softly, stubbornly.

“What do you think?” He muttered, mouth set in an angry twist.

“I didn’t show up to my interview, and then I made him late for the next one. It’ll be a blessing if he reschedules.” He sighed, shaking his head. I watched his eyes focus on the horizon, stormy blue on stormy blue.

“The tow service usually only takes, like, half an hour.” I said, taking a step closer.

“Great.” He bit out, starting to walk back to the drivers side.

“Half an hour too late.”

He slammed his door.

For a moment I hesitated, letting the wind whip my hair into my eyes until I was surrounded by a dark cloud. My hand was leaden as it finally reached for the handle, and I slid silently into the car, pressing myself against the door.

Ed Sheeran sung quietly in the car. It had been my turn to pick the music, and it stubbornly played on even though the car wouldn't drive.

“I don’t get waves of missing you any more, they’re more like tsunami tides,” he crooned.

I scoffed as my eyes began to prickle. Tsunami tides, I thought, looking out the window. There was an ocean's worth of space in the foot between Daniel and I in the car. The smell of In’n’Out hung in the air and I remembered him putting aside his prep book for two minutes to sing Taylor Swift into a burger, his voice light. The tear came free, rolling down my cheek and onto my bare leg.

“I can’t believe this, Eleanor.” He said, voice flat. I winced. My full name sounded wrong in his mouth.

“You couldn't do this one thing. I’ve been killing myself this whole trip trying to get ready for this interview with Stanford, and you can’t put gas in the car.”

“It was a trip.” I stated, voice monotone in a way it never is around him. 

“A trip for you and me, not you, me, and Kaplan’s guide to an Ivy League acceptance.”

“Are you jealous or something?” He demanded.

“You know how important this interview was to me. This was my shot. You know that,” he whispered, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it.

“You’re my shot.” I interjected, staring steadfast at the unmoving road in front of us. We were stuck; me, Daniel, and my heart, pounding along, an unwanted passenger.

He looked at me, hard.

“Don’t say stuff like that, El. It doesn’t make this better. You messed up and now I have to fix it.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Danny!” I snapped, voice heavy with tears.

I pulled myself away from the door and looked at him, seeing all at once the boy I’ve known since grade school and a man I’ve never met.

“You’re gonna get another interview, I know you are. They’re gonna take one look at you and say ‘how could we not let this kid in,’”

I stormed on, “and you’ll go away and I’ll go to Irvine which is good but not that good and we’ll say ‘I’ll call you every day’ and ‘I’ll visit’ but we won’t because four hundred miles is a lot and you hate driving alone even more than you hate regular driving which is why I was so happy I got you on this trip with me because I know, I know this might be it and I just-” I broke off, chest heaving.

My hand shook in my lap and he reached over the gear shift to grab it, pinky nail painted coral, just like mine.

His knuckle was split by a tight white line, bookmarking the place where he’d sliced himself hand-wrapping my seventh grade Christmas present. It was a photo album, full of pictures he’d taken when I wasn’t looking.

His camera sat discarded in the backseat, untouched for weeks, or maybe years.

His eyes were glassy. His mouth was steady.

“El, it’ll work. It has too. You’re my best friend.”

His voice was sincere but the words sounded empty to me. The worst part was that I could tell he believed what he was saying, that he didn’t think this trip was the end for us.

“We were never friends.” I started, staring at the ocean. It was flat and glassy now, transparent.

“We were never friends. Not for a second. I loved you. I love you.”

The words slid from my mouth before I could stop them and hung in the air, impossible to ignore. I felt like a banner had unfurled over my head, reading “this idiot loves you! she’s in love with you!”.

It was as simple and as complicated as that.

The world ripped on around us, a lizard skating across the hood of the car, a minivan full of kids driving too fast on the highway - but we were still, silent, like the ocean so far below.

“I don’t know what to say,” He began, measured, careful, ever the diplomat.

“You know I can’t- I don’t have any other options. Since I was a kid, Stanford has been the only option. This is all I have.”

It was simple and honest, but I felt so much more exposed than he was, the sun shining through the car and highlighting my heart.

“You have me,” I whispered, so quietly the wind whipped the words away in an instant.

My stomach rolled. I could feel the words he was about to say.

It was a knife in my chest - I knew exactly what he’d do in any situation. I knew what he’d had for breakfast every morning since he was a kid. I knew Dirty Dancing made him cry. His favorite book was still Winnie the Pooh, solely because of the quote “How lucky I am, to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

And I knew that I wasn’t enough to make him stay.

He turned in the seat towards me, and I saw the pain in my heart reflected on his face.

“I don’t know what to say. I think you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met. You’re so funny, and kind, and smart.”

I heard the rest of his sentence in my mind - “and it’s not enough.”

“But I don’t feel the same way. I’m so sorry.” Six words, laid out in front of me, as plain as the cloudless sky stretched out above us.
I couldn’t fathom it. It was some great cosmic joke - there was no way I could love someone, so much, and have them not feel the same way.

My love for him was the spark that outshone the sun and somehow he still couldn’t see it.

He didn’t stop holding my hand. I think, I love you I love you I love you, please hear me, and try to send the message through his fingers, up his arm and into his heart.

“I miss you so much,” I begin. It’s all I have to say.

“I feel like missing you is all I do, even when we’re together. It’s my routine. I just know it. But I didn’t think I’d be feeling it forever.” I say, voice wobbling. 

It’s as if a string has snapped and Daniel, composed, calm Daniel is crying, brutal and heavy in a way I haven’t heard in years.

I’m crying still, feeling his pain fight against my own. Tears drop on to our joined hands on my lap. I could yell, or scream, but there’s nothing to say. I’m nothing without this love, without him.

All that I’ve ever known about myself is gone in six words.

The road, which had looked so wide and expansive and full of possibility a few moments ago, disappears around a bend. I can’t see how it ends, and I don’t want to.