Beach Read

“When I watch you sleep,” he said shakily, “I feel overwhelmed that you exist.”

For January, I don’t care how the story ends as long as I spend it with you.

NOT ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST

I’d just stopped trying to glow in the dark for him, or anyone else.

Instead Gus smiled and picked up the highlighter and notebook beside him. He scribbled on it for a second, then held the notebook up so I could read it:

LIFE IS MEANINGLESS, JANUARY. GAZE INTO THE ABYSS.

I suppressed a laugh, then fished a Sharpie out of my backpack, dragged my own notebook toward me, and flipped to a blank page. In large, square letters, I wrote:

THIS REMINDS ME OF THAT TAYLOR SWIFT VIDEO.

“Just one more thing,” he said soberly.

“What?”

“Promise not to fall in love with me.”

“Oh my God!” I shoved his shoulder and flopped back into my seat, laughing. “Are you slightly misquoting A Walk to Remember at me?”

Gus cracked another smile. “Excellent movie,” he said. “Sorry, film.”

“Come on, January.” His eyes went back to the road, the twin spears of the headlights reaching over the asphalt and catching blips of the evergreens whipping past. “I remember you.”

I don’t care how the story ends as long as I spend it with you

I want to sleep next to you every night and to be the one you complain about book stuff to

When I watch you sleep,” he said shakily, “I feel overwhelmed that you exist.”