In Too Deep
By Paris Herbert-Taylor
LANI
When I couldn’t sleep at the old house, I would climb out of my window, slide the bloated wood pane as far up as it could go, squeeze my body through the three-foot gap, and sit on the roof of the garage, staring up at the trees towering above me.
I’d follow their ancient, steady lines up to the stars, and think about how many years old the light falling on me was. I liked knowing it was old light, that the glow reaching me had left its stars years ago, before the house got quiet, before we left Hawaii, before I knew how much everything could change. Like finding your childhood dog in the corner of an old Google Maps photo, still stretched out on the sun-baked strip of grass by the curb.
When my mom and I first arrived in Oregon to start our new life, one battered, salt-crusted suitcase between the two of us, I remember thinking that the yellow house with its paint peeling at the top of the steep hill was an ugly joke.
“Who needs the islands? We’ll make our own sunshine!” Mom had said with a smile. The homemade shell and clay starfish earrings I had made her, tangled up in her long hair.
I told her I hated it. Hated her.
And maybe at the time, I thought I did. She’d dragged me away from my island life, and I’d fought her every step of the way — a thoughtless tween, uncomfortable in hard, waterproof shoes, who couldn't see past the complications of her own inner monologue. If only I’d known I’d return to Hawaii without her, years later, with so many things left unsaid…
REID
My arms slice through the chlorinated water with a ZHOOM as I chase after my target, floating serenely, seconds from pandemonium on the surface of the battleground that is my domain—
The Pool.
The bright yellow ball is a beacon, fourteen half-submerged bodies focused on its trajectory, tracking it like bloodhounds. The water churns foam-white beneath my legs, and skin slides against skin as my opponent claws at me, trying to pull me off the ball. The noise is everywhere. Bouncing off every surface, hard to keep straight. I use my breathing as an anchor.
My hands cleave through the water before me, clearing the way…and I’m there. On top of the ball, I clench it in my open palm. My legs are pure eggbeater under the churn as I twist toward the cage, picking my corner. I have missed zero times.
I send everything into my legs, rise another six inches above the water, ready to fire when—
Hands are around my shoulders, a toenail scrapes the back of my thigh under the surface, and my opponent is on top of me. There’s a split second of motion, a sharp whistle that rings in my ears, before the pressure and weight send me plunging into the too-blue quiet.
It’s a quick reprieve.
I take one heartbeat, reading the frantic shapes scissoring overhead, finding the gap — and then explode upward, sweat wiped away by the water, ready to dominate.
LANI
The stars above me are like a welcome home banner, sprinkled on warm black velvet. I dangle my left foot off the rock to the waterline below, allowing the cool temperature to kiss my heel. I tuck my right knee to my chest, arms wrapping around it, as I focus on my box breathing, trying not to let the squeezing in my chest push my heart any further into my throat.
I am home. Finally.
The wish I’d murmured over every birthday candle the last five years had finally come true. I was back. And yet, now that I was, and everything had happened the way it did, I’d have given anything, everything, to be back in that damp old sunshine house on top of the hill with my mom.
Slowing my breath, I push my palms into the gritty rock face and stand. I consider the water, and before I can talk myself out of it, my soft cotton dress is over my head in one fluid motion. I dive, flinging myself into the swirling ocean below. The water takes me whole, warm at the surface and cooler underneath. It slides over my skin, and bubbles break against my face like tiny kisses.
Hello, old friend. Do you remember me?
For a few seconds, there is nothing but the rush in my ears and the sting of salt in my eyes. The dark blue press of the ocean holds me in its arms. I kick down hard, spreading my arms wide, embraced and weightless, before I let myself rise, breaking through the briny surface with a gasp.
I could scream with joy. Rivulets of water stream down my face, and the world comes back in pieces, my eyes clearing in the sting of the spray. The moon on the waves. The black line of palms fringing the beach. The old lifeguard tower sitting quietly on the sand.
Then I look again. Shadows move across rotting wood, in and out of focus. Voices carry over the pale strip of sand, too loud for the hour. I tread against the current, squinting at the figures crowding the old structure that used to be my grandfather’s domain.
What is going on?
REID
There are exactly three rules during The Pacific Shore Water Polo team initiation:
Nobody documents anything
Nobody goes to the hospital.
Nobody gets caught.
By the time we reach the old lifeguard tower, Dante, our team's powerful left wing, has already broken rule number one.
“Reid,” Miles, my sensible best friend, says, low enough that only I can hear him. He runs a hand over his buzzed, stubbled head from back to front, his nervous habit.
I look over. He nods toward the six-foot-two figure of our roommate Dante, walking backward through the sand with his phone held high, narrating.
“Historic night,” Dante says, grinning at the screen. “One boy. One tower. One cursed flag…”
“It’s not really cursed… right?” Niko, our newest freshman recruit, asks.
Dante shrugs, turning away so his younger brother can’t see his shit-eating grin.
Niko stares up at the roof of the sun-bleached structure and I can sense by the line of his shoulders that he’s nervous. This lifeguard tower had been closed for years, nailed over and secured with weather-warped boards and faded county signs. It crouches above the sand at the edge of the beach like a slumbering sentinel, the old red O’ahu Surf rescue flag gently swinging from the rail on the roof.
The flag, the whole reason we’re out here.
Initiation.
Every year, the freshmen water polo recruits steal something important. Well…we don’t steal exactly…we borrow…to return at a later date. Last year, it was the ceremonial oar from the Dean’s office, which was returned three days later with a lei and an apology poem written entirely in rowing puns. Dante had been very proud of rhyming “oar” with “galore.” As an English major, I’d honestly expected better but was just glad we hadn’t been caught.
The year before that, my freshman year, I had dragged the bronze dolphin from outside the aquatic center halfway across the quad before campus security found me. I wince remembering it. There was a harsh lecture from my mother and I wasn’t eager for a repeat. But tradition is tradition, and this year we’d decided…
It had to be the flag.
But standing on the beach under the stars, wind whispering against the back of my neck, I feel an ugly twist in my stomach. Guilt? Apprehension?
I shake the uncomfortable feeling off and turn to my newest teammate.
“Up and back,” I tell Niko. “That’s it. Climb up, untie it, climb down. No hero stuff. Then, you’re one of us. A Breaker.”
Niko swallows quickly, his throat bobbing up and down. He’s trying to smile, but his mouth keeps twitching. I know he doesn’t want to look weak in front of us. He wants to be accepted by the team, by his big brother, whom he secretly worships, and by me, as if I’m somebody worth impressing. I clap him on the shoulder encouragingly, and Dante throws an arm around him, poking him in the ribs.
“Captain Callahan has spoken.”
Miles, our goalie, gives me a look, and I read his question there: “Am I sure this is a good idea?” He’s giving me an out, he’d back me up if I put a stop to it, but…
I pretend I don’t read it.
The guys are loud, amped, all restless limbs, wet hair, and slides kicked into the sand. Somebody smells like beer, but I’m not going to make a big deal out of it.
When they’re in the pool, they’re mine. As captain, it's my job to lead them, protect them, and take the heat when things go wrong. Outside of the water…everybody has to make and live with their own decisions. I hear a playful scuffle break out behind me, the team is waiting for me to give the nod.
My eyes float up to the flag. Under the moon in my team hoodie, I feel the pressure of their anticipation. If I shut it down now, I am the cowardly captain. The golden boy with no sense of tradition. The killjoy who ruined the fun before the season has even kicked off. That’s not how I want to start my junior year.
Niko starts climbing the rickety structure. The first few feet are easy. He gets one sneaker on the side brace, pulls himself up, then hooks his hand around the lower rail. The building groans, and Niko hesitates. Dante whoops, and I clock the newbie’s hesitation.
“Go slow,” I call.
“I’m good!” Niko calls back.
But he is not good. I can tell. He reaches the top, one knee scraping over the edge, then hauls himself up with a feigned confidence. The team cheers. Dante lifts his phone higher, zooming in.
Then, he starts a chant: “Niko… Niko….!”
For a second, it bolsters the freshman player. Niko stands on the low-hipped roof, arms out, the rescue flag snapping behind him like an angry squirrelfish caught on a line. The moon catches the side of his face, and he looks proud. Then he shuffles forward and reaches for the flag. The knot is swollen tight from years of salt, sun, and seawater. He tugs. Nothing. Again, nope. The old wood rail gives a tired groan. I grimace. Miles looks at me again, worried. I finally turn and catch his eye, and he shakes his head at me.
“Don’t yank it…” Miles calls up.
“Be carefu—“ I begin at the same time, but the words die on my lips as Niko doesn’t listen, and pulls on the flag HARD. It tears; an aggressive fabric-splitting sound, followed by Niko losing his footing. His hand shoots for the low rail, which cracks and breaks, old rotted wood coming apart in his hands.
The rest of the team shouts in alarm, humor turning to horror. Dante drops his phone in the sand and rushes forward.
“Hey! Don’t hurt yourself!”
I am already moving, the worst-case scenario playing out in my mind.
“Niko…!” I yell.
He catches himself on the post, one leg dangling over the side, the torn flag twisted around his wrist, his arm and shoulder wrenched into an unnatural angle.
“AAHHHHH!!!”
Dante is already scrabbling onto the building, his hands slipping as he tries to climb towards his little brother.. “I got you!”
A high pitched voice cuts through the darkness behind us.
“What the hell are you DOING?!?”
I turn, and my mouth forgets how words work.
A girl walks toward us out of the water, red bathing suit, dripping wet, thick black hair streaming down her back. For one stupid second, I don’t understand where she’s come from, and my kid brain goes to the most likely explanation: “mermaid?!?”
I shake myself back to reality. The woman is soaked, furious, and so beautiful, I feel the blood rush to the exact wrong place at the exact wrong time. Then she steps closer, her eyes daggers that go straight through me like I’m the dumbest person alive, and my heart drops into my stomach.
Shit. I know her.
Leilani Tanaka-Brooks.
She stares up at the torn flag hanging from Niko’s bruising wrist as Dante works to untangle him. Then her green-blue eyes sweep the team, her mouth turned down, disapprovingly. I feel the athletes shrink under her gaze.
Her attention goes along the line and finally stops on me. Surprise and a fresh surge of outrage flicker, and I know, before she says another word, that we have broken all three rules of initiation night.
And that we are royally fucked.
LANI
For half a second, no one moves. Not the ripped, muscled boys in the sand who look at me sheepishly under their eyelashes, not the two blonde carbon copies on the roof of the tower, one gripping his wrist in pain…
And definitely not Reid Callahan, standing there in a grey Pacific Shore college hoodie.
PLEASE don’t tell me this d-bag goes to my new college…
Reid's mouth falls open like he’s just seen a ghost. I guess in a way, he sort of has.
The kid on the roof whimpers, and my instincts kick in. I grew up on this beach, underfoot at Lifeguard Tower 14, watching my grandfather splint wrists and calm tourists who'd done exactly this kind of stupid. His voice is in my head now, steady as a tide chart: assess first.
“We need a splint. A stick, a branch, even a washed-up Coke bottle would work… but it has to be something that can stabilize the joint.”
The guys on the beach scatter, springing into action, searching through the sand like a pack of failed K9 sniffer puppies. I glance back at the guard tower as the sun-streaked Viking wannabes ease their way down, the older one gently helping the younger.
I step forward, comfortably taking charge, gently cupping the swelling wrist of the younger blonde in my hands. “Can you move your fingers?”
He blinks at me, then carefully wiggles his digits. A sharp intake of breath, and he groans in pain.
A reedy giant, all broad shoulders and kind eyes, hurries over, holding out three stick options.
“Thank you…”
“Miles,” he provides with a smile. I try not to notice how good-looking he is, his bright white smile open and friendly on his handsome face, his lean frame wrapped in a dark blue Henley tee, colorful tattoo sleeves snaking up both arms.
“Thank you, Miles.”
“What else d’ya need?”
I size the sticks up for the right fit.“I need something to bind these to his wrist—”
Before I can finish my sentence, there’s movement at the corner of my eye. Reid Callahan whips off his hoodie, followed by his t-shirt. His pecs ripple, his six-pack abs stretched tight, showing every line, every muscle in perfect definition, the faint trail of dark hair drawing my eye down to the edge of his shorts.
Holy shit…
I force myself not to make eye contact with Reid Callahan’s sharp V-lines as I take his shirt.
My childhood nemesis smirks aggravatingly, and I feel anger licking up the back of my throat.
“You need me to—?”
“I got it!” I snap, expertly ripping the shirt into strips. The smirk is quickly wiped off his annoying, symmetrical face as I shred his clothes, which, I can’t lie, gives me a moment of satisfaction.
I use the homemade strips to secure the sticks to the injured wrist.
“Now you—” I point at the other blonde, his brother, I assume, “under him.”
A goofy grin splits his face.
“Oh. But I’d rather be under you—”
Reid, to his credit, slaps the guy upside the head. “Watch it, Dante!”
Blonde One, aka Dante, I guess, winces and drops his bravado.
“Sorry. Reflex.” He looks at me with his big pale blue eyes. “Thank you for helping us, ocean princess.”
“He needs to see a doctor. He could’ve sprained it or broken it.” I say, steering us firmly back to the problem at hand.
The splinted guy pales.
“No! No way!! I haven’t even played one game yet!”
My brow creases in confusion.
“We’re on the Pacific Shore water polo team,” Miles supplies. He nods to the blondes, “Dante, Niko…” The injured guy smiles weakly.
“And that’s our captain, Reid…”
“Oh, we’ve met.” Reid’s eyes burn into mine, and I am suddenly hyper aware that I’m only wearing my wet bathing suit, I’m dripping salt water, and it is very cold.
I shiver.
Reid bends at the waist, giving me the opportunity to notice his powerful muscled shoulders, and scoops and tosses me his hoodie. I hold it up, hesitating just long enough that Reid rolls his eyes.
“Or freeze. I don’t care…”
Irritated, I pull the hoodie on, engulfed by its ginormous size, trying not to notice the smell of spice and sweat infused in the fabric. I glance at the boy I grew up with.
“Captain, huh? Did Mommy pull some strings?”
Reid flushes red, furious; probably instantly regretting his moment of chivalry in handing over his hoodie while he stands on the sand shirtless and stewing. The group of guys goes still, sensing the tension between us, reading the storm clouds gathering in their captain's face like surfers waiting for the break…
That’s when my eyes land on the twisted red fabric on the sand. The thing that was wrapped around Niko’s wrist.
I gasp.
Faded white lettering. The familiar old O’ahu Surf mark, and beneath it, stitched small into the corner, almost hidden by salt and age, is a number I know. Tower 14. My grandfather’s old post.
I look up to the roof where I spot the remains of the flag, just fragments, torn from the frame, floating sadly in the rising breeze.
Anger hits like a punch to the sternum.
“What is this?” I hiss, and the group of boys takes a collective step back.
“Lani,” Reid says, his hands going up in surrender.
“What have you done!?” I gather up what’s left of the flag and hold it against my chest, throat tight, eyes burning. Another piece of my family history… destroyed. Another memory gone.
“You’ve really done it now,” I manage to choke out as I turn. I need to get out of here.
Behind me, the boys on the sand quickly glance at each other, worried. I catch snippets of their panicked murmuring as I storm away:
"Coach…Caught…Season… Ban…”
Reid’s footsteps match my own as he closes the distance between us, stopping me, a hand on my arm. An unexpected sizzle runs through me as he pulls me around. I ignore it, disgusted with my body’s betrayal. I have to crane my neck to glare up into the dark brown eyes of the island’s golden boy.
“Wait, Lani. Surely we can work something out…?”
LANI
Morning sun comes in hot and white through the slatted blinds, throwing stripes across my half-unpacked suitcase and the swimsuit I'd dropped in a salty heap by the door — as if I could shed last night like a skin. No luck. Reid's hoodie lies folded over the desk chair. CALLAHAN, arced over a big number eight.
Asshole. That’s MY lucky number.
I sink back into my bed, and close my eyes, allowing my mind to briefly wander back to the image of his taut, muscled chest under the moonlight…
SLAM.
My eyes pop open. Somewhere on the other side of my wall, Piper, my roommate and oldest and best friend, is already awake, drawers crashing closed, bare feet padding across the tile, a podcast playing too loud from her phone. The smell of cheap instant coffee she buys when it’s half off wafts through the gap under my door, and I groan, rolling over in bed to check my phone: 8:05am.
Fuck.
My grandpa Joe is expecting me at eight-thirty, and it’s a twenty-five-minute walk. I’ll have to jog. I’m not off to the best start for my first day of college.
I hear hurried footsteps pattering across our shared living room space. Piper’s red curly head and freckled face appear in the doorway seconds later as she peers inside my sparsely decorated room. When she sees me awake, looking back at her, the door opens wider.
“Oh, good! You’re up! First day, baby!!”
Piper bounds into my space and carefully sets a chipped rainbow and dolphin mug on my bedside table, moving my charcoal sketching kit out of the way. With no regard for personal space, she clambers onto my bed and sits cross-legged, peering over the rim of her own sweet, milky drink at me with feigned innocence.
Though we are complete opposites, Piper is my best friend. Where she is soft, warm, and sweet, I am hard-edged, cold, and opinionated; often speaking before my brain has had a moment to catch up. I wasn’t always like this. Once, I was the soft one, but… life happened.
Ever since I got back to Hawaii, Piper loves to tell people that we are a black cat, golden retriever friendship couple. In my more self-loathing moments, I think of us like sunshine and rain. I’m just glad she still wanted to room with me this year after spending all our high school years apart. But that is Piper to a T.
Loyal. Loving. Nosy…
“You were out late last night…” Piper starts, stretching her pale limbs out over my white comforter. Her eyes dart pointedly to the hoodie on my chair, and I can see the questions in her mind clambering over each other as she tries to decide which one to throw at me first. Piper grew up on the island too, so she knows the name "Callahan" the way every local kid does — the way you always know the richest boy in school, the one whose house has a gate. Reid threw the best parties. Not that we were ever cool enough to be invited.
Before she can start her cross-examination of my evening activities, I slip out from under the sheets and quickly change into my outfit of the day: faded cut-off jean shorts and a green tank top. I throw my hair into a messy twist, fastening it with one of the bright claw clips I decorated in a fit of DIY frenzy. I probably should have thought about my first impression outfit more carefully, but then, I also should’ve stayed in bed instead of going out swimming at midnight…
“Where do you think you’re going?!” she shrieks, throwing my pillow at me. I successfully dodge it and hunt for my beat-up, sand-filled Vans, slipping them on my feet. “You’re not going to explain that… boy hoodie sitting on your chair?!”
Piper gets off the bed, reaching for the traitorous item. She buries her nose in it, inhaling deeply.
“Why does he smell so hot?!”
I snatch the hoodie out of her hands and stuff it into my backpack, along with my keys, phone, laptop, and wallet. I scoop up my books for the day and my sketch pad, piling them under my arm.
“You need to get laid,” I tell her pointedly as she follows me out of my room to our barely furnished living room. She flops with a sigh on the faded, saggy couch her Aunt Kathy gifted us as a move-in present.
“I can’t. I’m celibate now.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline in surprise.
“It’s part of my self-discovery. No sex for at least two weeks. Stop me from making some post-orientation, new-school mistakes. I know it’ll be hard, but I think it’s important.”
I try to hide my chuckle. If only she knew how long it had been for me… I drop a kiss on her forehead as I pull open our front door.
“Tell Joe I’m still waiting on some of his mango bread! And I’ll see you in class? Don’t be late! Kathy says Professor Kimo is a stickler…”
REID
Outside, the morning heat hits me hard, and I rub my eyes, my mind drifting back to last night as I lean against the warm sandstone wall of the administration building—
Lani’s disapproving look. Niko’s swollen wrist. Dante pacing in the emergency waiting room on the phone to his (understandably) furious parents. Lani’s smooth, tanned thighs peeking out of the bottom of my hoodie as she barked orders. Miles in a tiny plastic chair, shaking his head in silent disapproval. Lani tucking a wayward strand of midnight-black hair behind her ear…
I mentally slap myself out of my train of thought and stare up at the building in front of me. Pacific Shore student housing sits in a neat little cream and terra-cotta row. The wet grass baking under the sprinklers that try hopelessly to keep it alive. Three girls in matching workout outfits pass me on the path, iced coffees sweating in their hands. I feel their eyes linger on me, and I force a grin, glad my Ray-Bans hide the dark, tired circles under my eyes.
“Ladies.”
They giggle, and I’m trying to remember if I’ve hooked up with one of them before, when the front door of the student housing building slides open and—
Lani steps out.
Cutoff jean shorts showing long tanned legs, tight tank top clinging to her chest, the nape of her neck exposed, her lush hair piled high…
Lani spots me walking towards her, and her face slams closed as she brushes past. The faint smell of vanilla left in her wake.
Is that how she just naturally smells… ?
“I don’t have time, Callahan,” Lani throws over her shoulder as I follow her, matching her hurried pace easily with my long stride.
“Good morning to you, too.”
She huffs at me, and without stopping, unzips her bag, pulling out my hoodie. “Here, if this is what you came for—“
“It’s not,” I cut her off, though I reach over and take it.
I'd never tell her this, but there's a reason I still have this hoodie. A whole thing I don't talk about. Not with the guys, not with Lawrence, the athletic academic advisor who's convinced he's my therapist. Not with anyone. “I wanted to talk to you about last night…”
The campus hums around us, caught in that limbo between move-in and the first real day of classes. People lounge in the quad chatting or wander amazed under the lush green trees.
Everyone is overdressed, over-caffeinated, and trying not to get caught scoping each other out. Meanwhile, the one girl I actually need to talk to won't even look at me.
“Is Niko okay?” Lani asks, eyes forward, speeding up.
The question catches me off guard. “Uh, yeah. It’s a sprain. Not a break.”
Her shoulders loosen. “Good.”
I’m surprised by the little flare of jealousy that zips through my chest.
This is annoying little Leilani, I remind myself.
We walk in silence for a minute, and I try to figure out how to broach the topic that had me lying awake, tossing and turning in my room at the Breakers house, listening to Dante’s snoring echoing down the hall. If I screw up this conversation, that's it. The season, the guys' careers, my Olympic dreams. We need Lani to work with us here. But I can’t let her know that.
As I cast around for a way to ease into my request: please don’t tell on us to the Dean for trespassing at Pali Cove, my eyes land on the stack of books she’s carrying, and I get an idea.
“Can I carry those for you?”
Lani’s glare tells me no, and “go away”, but I forge on unperturbed. One thing that everyone who knows me knows about me is, I don’t give up. My scary mother didn’t raise a quitter.
“You’re studying architecture?” I try again.
“Why?”
I nod at the books in her arms.
“Land Use and Community Planning. That’s a pre-req. Also, wasn’t that your dream? Weren’t you always drawing squiggly buildings on any scrap of paper you could find when we were kids? You were always in trouble with Mrs Feig in the library for—”
Lani adjusts the books so they face away from me, and I can tell I’m losing her.
“Is there something you wanted, Reid? Other than an embarrassing trip down memory lane?”
We reach the path that curves toward the road, where the glossy campus gives way to coastal brush and a dirt track. Beyond the open-air buildings, the ocean flashes blue between windswept palms. We pass a rooster scratching in the dirt, and Lani greets it with a murmured “aloha kakahiaka” as she keeps walking. I stare at the grubby bird, then reach into my pocket for the mixed nuts I carry, scattering a few. The rooster charges for my offerings happily.
“I wanted to explain what happened last night. Why we were there…” I start to say.
Lani shrugs. “None of my business. You can take it up with Student Conduct for your teammate, and Ocean Safety for the rest, since it was their property you damaged.”
SHITTTTTTT.
Student Conduct means forms. Forms mean emails. Emails mean Coach, Coach means disciplinary actions. It means my first year as captain becomes a hearing before I’ve even played a game. As for the lifeguard shack, the last thing I need is any smoke on me from local council.
“Come on, Lani, we can talk about this, right? We’ll fix the flag. And I can pay for damages to the tower—“
Lani abruptly stops at the edge of the sand and twists to stare at me. Hand on hip.
“Look, I know you’re a rich kid who thinks you can buy your way out of every problem you stupidly create, but there are things that money can’t just fix. And that flag was one of them. It was old, special…”
Her eyes flick down the beach to where a figure fishes from the sand. I squint, trying to make out who it is, and my stomach flips.
“No way…” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Is that your…”
“Eia nō ʻoe,” booms Joe Tanaka, lean, sun-browned, stoically imposing. He runs a hand through his silver hair, eyes sharp as he spots us, and I know he’s recognized me. Lani’s grandfather is a formidable force on the island. Retired Lifeguard captain, respected local official, he and I have had more run-ins than I care to count.
I circle Lani so my back is to Joe. If she tells him what the team did last night, we’re in trouble that extends beyond the season.
“Listen, I know we’ve never been the biggest fans of each other…”
Lani snorts. “Understatement—“
“But—“ I continue, determined to try and get this out, “please don’t tell anyone about last night. It was my fault, okay? I should never have let it happen.”
My eyes search hers, and I notice a flicker of something there. Surprise? That would make sense. The Reid she knew growing up never took accountability. But despite what she may think, I’ve changed a lot since we last saw each other. Had to.
“If you tell Student Conduct, or the Dean, or Ocean Safety… or your grandfather, the team is screwed. I’m screwed. You don’t owe me anything but… I kinda can’t get in trouble right now. I have to play…” I hear it the second it's out of my mouth: wrong thing. Her face closes, mouth pressing into a hard line.
“This is so typical,” she almost spits, as she tries to go around me. I match every one of her forward steps with a backwards step of my own as I keep talking, trying to dig myself out of my own stupid hole.
“Please! Lani, come on—”
“Why do I care if you get in trouble? If you can’t play? What’s in it for me?”
And that’s when an idea hits me, something I have that Lani might want. A way to convince her to keep the team out of trouble, to not rat me out. I take a deep breath and blurt it out to her like a life preserver tossed to a clueless haole on choppy waves.
“What about an internship?”
LANI
Joe Tanaka is known on the island as a man of few words, which is a blessing on a day like today as I watch Reid disappear into the brush line. My grandfather follows my eye and huffs loudly, a Grandpa Joe-ism of disapproval.
“Every year, my mother’s architecture firm takes on a paid intern. It’s basically a silver bullet to getting hired at any architecture, design, or urban planning job on the island.”
“Are you offering me… a bribe?” I had asked in disbelief, searching his chocolatey eyes for any sort of trick. But all I read there was anxiety and fear. Huh. Interesting.
With Reid’s words ringing in my ears, I tear my gaze back to my grandfather, accepting the handline he passes me. I rub my thumb over the cracked blue plastic spool and free the hook from the notch where it’s wedged. My grandfather slams his battered surf rod into a PVC sand spike, letting the current do the work, as he reaches into his cooler for bait.
“That boy is all kinds of pilikia,” he says, matter-of-fact as he preps my line, wiping his hands on the old, bleach-speckled towel over his shoulder. “You know how many times I got called out to a beach because he and his kolohe boys decided to do something stupid?”
He has no idea HOW AWARE I am of the stupid things Reid Callahan does on the beach. At night. With his shirt off…
My line goes slack in my hands, and I feel rather than see my grandfather’s look as I reel the line back in and try another toss.
“Council’s doing old tower checks this weekend, before some big meeting,” Grandpa Joe drops conversationally, and my fingers stop working the line.
“Oh, really?” My voice is tight. Grandpa Joe doesn’t notice as he nods, eyes steady on the horizon.
“Kai texted me. Tower 14 is on the list. About time too. That place been falling apart. Not like when I was in charge. Kept that wahi in tip-top shape.” He grins.
Tower 14, the one Reid and his pack of idiots decided to climb last night, was my grandfather’s proudest domain. He still considers himself keeper of the coastline, which I know because he bought an apron with that slogan splashed proudly across the front in garish blue lettering. There’s nothing my grandfather is more passionate about than his family and the land that raised it. Though technically retired, my grandpa is a respected elder voice in the community.
The waves lick at the sand in front of us, and my stomach dips so I feel almost seasick.
This weekend. Five days away. Of course. Why wouldn’t this situation get worse?
My grandfather, the only man I’ve ever truly cared about, glances at me again, and I feel his concern radiating off him as he turns. “Are you okay, kuʻu lei?”
I swallow hard and do something I’ve never done before.
I lie to him.
“I’m okay. Just thinking about school…”
REID
By the time I make it back to campus, I’m sweating through my shirt and filled with regret, an impressive achievement since it’s usually after sunset, a few drinks in, before I start trying to ruin my own life. I cut across the edge of the breezy quad, my returned hoodie thrown over my shoulder. I catch a whiff of vanilla, and can’t help it, I smell the sleeve, and then feel like a creep. I drop my hand, rubbing my eyes like I can rub away the image of Lani’s face and the way she’d looked at me when I’d said internship…
She hadn’t said no. Which was good. The problem was that she hadn’t technically said yes either.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I stare at the screen in disbelief: MOM FACETIME.
It’s like the woman can sense when I’ve made a terrible decision. I glance at the decorative koi pond I walk past, and debate throwing my phone into it. Failure to answer was usually followed by a worried barrage of texts that I didn’t have in me today.
“Hi, Mom.”
My mother, Meredith Callahan, appears in the palm of my hand looking, as usual, like the well put-together business mogul bad-ass she is. Her blonde (salon of course) hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her diamond stud earrings glinting on her lobes, her sharp suit most definitely dry-cleaned. I doubt she's ever marched a team of guys who trusted her out to a beach in the middle of the night, or promised a girl something she couldn't deliver.
“Hi, my baby! I miss you!”
I wince and look around to see if anyone is close enough to hear the piercing volume of her voice. Thankfully, they’re not. I walk towards a shaded, secluded corner.
Behind my mom is the glass wall of a conference room where a long table is covered with paperwork, probably plans and renderings. She’s already at the office, which tracks. I inherited my ambition and work ethic from her; mine just manifested in the pool while hers manifested in real estate. As if she can hear me thinking, she pushes through the glass doors and swings the camera around to an easel. Propped on it is a glossy rendering, thick cardstock: a cluster of boxy, glassed-in high-rises.
“Look! Isn’t it pretty? Had to get in early, we’ve got a BIG pitch.”
My eyes land on the calligraphy-style lettering: Shoreline Renewal, Glasswater Estate.
I don’t really have an interest in buildings, but at first glance, they seem pretty ugly to me. I barely have time to look at it, clocking that it seems to stretch along the curve engulfing Pali Cove, before my mom’s face is back, taking up the screen as she peers at me through the pixels. “Are you getting enough protein? You seem tired.”
I lower my sunglasses over my eyes and, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from my food intake, I dive straight in.
“Had eggs— so listen, I wanted to ask about the semester internship program this year,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual. “The one at the firm for first-years. Have you chosen anyone yet?”
Mom’s eyes narrow slightly. Meredith Callahan doesn’t do “squint.” I’m actually not sure she physically can. “No, we haven’t…”
I breathe a sigh of relief. First hurdle clear.
“That’s an odd question.”
Damnit. My reprieve is short-lived.
“Is it?” I feign confusion. “I always care about your work. Stuff going on in your life.” That does the trick. My mother melts, a smile taking over her face. She wants me to care about her business because she wants to hand it over to me someday. Something I couldn’t be less interested in.
“And…” I keep going, too late to back out now. My mom’s face sharpens. Meredith Callahan is no fool, as evidenced by the way her voice jumps over me before I can continue.
“What did you do?”
Is the woman psychic?
“Nothing!”
“Reid??”
Damn, she’s good.
I hold my face in as neutral a position as possible. “Mother?”
She shakes her head. “If this is about one of your teammates, the answer is no. I’ve learned my lesson with you boys; you should stick to training, focus on the games.”
I run a hand through my hair, and I can see in the tiny box in the corner that it makes it stick up at a weird angle. I quickly pat it down as I blurt out my request, scared I’ll chicken out if I don’t just rip the bandaid off—
“It is not one of the guys, Mom…it’s a girl.”
For a second, I can really see the kaleidoscope of emotions rolling over my mom’s face. Finally, she settles, and a beaming smile breaks through. “A girl?! Oh my god, Reid! Like a girl-girl—?”
“Her name’s Leilani. Leilani Tanaka-Brooks. She used to live near us but she moved away like, five years ago with her mom” I say quickly. The corners of my mom’s mouth fall a few millimeters, and I can see her pupils contracting as her brain catches up.
“Tanaka… like Joe Tanaka?”
Fuck. Me.
Of course, my mother knows every name that can help her, hurt her, or stand up at a council meeting and make her job more difficult, which, unfortunately for me, perfectly explains Lani’s grandfather. Known locally as a bit of an activist, my mother would consider him more of an active pain in her ass.
“She’s studying architecture,” I forge on. “Just moved back. I think she got a scholarship…”
Actually, I know for a fact she got a scholarship, a competitive one, a full ride. I did, after all, spend half the night stalking her online.
It's also how I found the obituary.
Leilani's mom. Six months ago. I'd stared at the screen for a long time, the dumb jokes I'd been rehearsing for practice tomorrow dying somewhere in my chest.
“She’s really smart and passionate, AND she’s local. She’d be good for the firm.”
My mother’s lips pinch as she rolls the words she wants to say in her mouth, tasting them.
“I don’t do handouts,” she finally says, case closed, ready to move on, which is why I think the tone in my voice throws her off-guard when I rush out, “Please, Mom! Meet her, for me?”
I can feel the curiosity burning through the screen into my skull, two tiny frown lines appearing on her brow, fighting the botox she swears she doesn’t get. Finally—
“Are you romantically involved with this girl?”
I concentrate on those two tiny lines marking her otherwise blemish-free skin. I should say no. That’s the sane, real answer, so why then do I hesitate?
My mother watches me like a hawk. If I tell her the real reason, that I offered Lani a deal because she saw the team damage the flag and the tower, and I’m scared I’ll blow the team’s season before it has even started, my mother will stop being my mother and become Meredith Callahan of Callahan + Keane, a vicious and powerful enemy who would see my one lapse in judgement as something more. Something worse.
She’d ask for names, whether there was evidence (which I needed to check with Dante that he deleted), and whether Joe Tanaka knew. Or worst of all… Coach.
I can’t let her think Lani is a problem she needs to manage. Or let Lani go from girl in the wrong place at the wrong time, to public enemy number one. I can’t do that to her.
“Are you telling me you’re dating Leilani Tanaka-Brooks?” My mother probes again, her voice serious.
I clear my throat, buying time. “It’s new.”
“How new? How serious?” My mother launches into her next thought without waiting for my answer. “I am asking because you are calling me before I’ve even had my second coffee to ask about a girl and an internship. A highly coveted internship, might I add—”
“We’re figuring it out,” I say quickly, desperate to stop the barrage.
Meredith studies me for another long second, and interest sharpens in her eyes. “I see… You haven’t mentioned a girl, any girl since—”
“She deserves a shot,” I say, cutting her off. I can’t go there, not today. My Mom, to her credit, realizes she’s toed the line. I catch a glimmer of something in her eyes… anxiety? Fear? She doesn’t want to go back to that dark place she dragged me out of two years ago, either. She purses her lips.
“Okay. I’ll meet her.”
My pulse rises, and I finally look her in the eyes.
“If she’s important to you, she must be something special.”
My mind returns to the beach, a red bathing suit, thick black hair streaming down a perfectly tanned, toned back, the gentle way she took charge with Niko…
“Thanks, Mom.” I breathe out, relieved.
“You’re welcome, and I love you. Now go to class!”
LANI
Professor Kimo’s melodic voice washes over me as I try to concentrate on taking notes, but the words on his screen slide in and out of focus as my mind wanders. Another slide, a picture of the coastline. Blue water, green ridges, a stretch of sand drawing the eye to a cluster of buildings tucked along the shore, using the natural curvature of the island.
“The built environment doesn’t just have to be a design we think looks good, or functions well,” he says. “The challenge for us, especially in Hawaii, in this environment, is how we decide to honor the living elements. Work with the landscape to preserve it.”
Preserve it.
The words catch me off-guard, transporting me back to a memory– my mom, grandpa Joe, and I on a hike, the two of them lamenting over the new builds dotting the shore as I sketched in my notebook. Mom looking at my drawings proudly, telling grandpa Joe she wasn’t worried because there was the next generation, like me, who would protect the land, work with it, not against it, keep it safe from greedy outsiders who only saw dollar sign developments…
Piper leans over from her seat beside me, slipping me a note in her chicken scratch handwriting: AM I CRAZY OR IS PROFESSOR KIMO HOT?!
I roll my eyes and shake my head at her and scribble back: YOU NEED TO GET LAID.
Piper sighs, scrunches up the paper, and turns her focus back to the front. I try to do the same, but thoughts and memories keep tumbling over in my head like wet towels in the dryer: Reid’s voice, “What if you got that internship? It’s paid, well paid. I could make it happen, Lani…”
Then another memory rises, tangled in the first—
My grandfather’s worried look when he asked me if I would be able to find a part-time job, since he couldn’t offer much financial assistance. The smoothing of his brow and the look of relief when I’d told a tiny lie that the scholarship I was on covered it all.
If only…
Grandpa Joe’s wrinkled hand on my shoulder as he looked me in the eye. “You earned your place at that school, kuʻu lei. You hear me? Don’t let anybody make you feel like you don’t belong.”
He was so proud of me…
But thinking about it drags up something else, and the smile slips off my face—
Two pretty blonde girls with their nine-dollar lattes, Lululemon shorts, and salon-highlighted hair, laughing and pointing at Piper and I, as we tried to maneuver Kathy’s hand-me-down couch across the quad through the student housing doors.
Then my brain, traitor that it is, serves up another image—
Reid’s taut abs as he pulled off his hoodie and t-shirt. The arrogant quirk of his lips as he caught me staring at him under the moonlight…
I feel the attention of the room shift and look up to find all eyes on me. Professor Kimo watches me kindly from the front of the room, a quizzical look on his face.
“Ms. Tanaka-Brooks?” he prompts again, and I feel my palms start to sweat and my face heat.
Great. First class, and I’m already embarrassing myself by not paying attention.
“I’m… sorry? I was uh… thinking.”
A soft ripple of laughter through the room. Two rows ahead, a glossy brunette with gold hoops leans toward her friend, not bothering to lower her voice. “Must be on island time.”
Her friend snorts loudly. Piper’s head snaps toward them, ready to launch into defense mode, a petite, rabid elf, when—
“Thank you for that comment, Miss…?”
The brunette and her whisper buddy stop laughing, the attention of the class swinging to them. The brunette straightens, her confidence and privileged upbringing wrapped around her like an expensive coat that screams mainland.
“Bianca. Ellery.”
Professor Kimo smiles, but it’s devoid of warmth. “Thank you for that comment, Miss Ellery. It’s a perfect example of the kind of thinking this class exists to challenge. The idea that this island can be divided into locals and outsiders, when really we’re all abiding by the same agreed-upon laws of time. Some of us simply use ours with more purpose by not making snide comments.”
He pauses for dramatic effect, aware that every student is locked in on the first public dressing down of the semester. Bianca deflates, fidgeting with a strand of her long, straight hair. Beside me, I feel Piper grin and murmur, “Get her, professor…"
Professor Kimo continues, “… I don’t like to think in divisions. Water doesn’t. The very foundation of our existence. Earth and rock do not. And to bring this thought back to my classroom, where I hope you will be able to overcome the idea of this divide, if we are going to build here in Hawaii, we need to start by understanding that nothing exists alone. We must work together to be as one.” Professor Kimo links his fingers together in demonstration.
He turns his attention back to me. “I asked, Miss Tanaka-Brooks, for your thoughts on preservation and progress. Do they always have to be opposing ideas?”
The room waits, I feel Bianca’s hot stare boring into me, her loathing pointed as if I’m the one who brought Kimo’s lecture on her. I sit up straighter.
“No,” I say, my voice a little too tight. “But it’s easy to call something progress when you’re not the one being pushed out.. I don’t think expansion has to come at the expense of what is already here.”
Piper’s knee presses proudly against mine under the desk, and the eyes of the class drift back to paper pads and screens as the show comes to an end. I wipe my damp palms on my shorts and pray that's the first and last time I ever have a whole room looking at me.
As we exit the classroom, Piper is fired up. She shakes me by the arm, excitedly.
“That was like… a mic drop moment! Did you see Kimo’s face?! He loved your answer! Way to get on his good side, Lani! Kathy made it seem like he was such a hard nut to crack—“
A shoulder clips mine, cutting Piper off as Bianca pushes past us, tossing her long hair in my face with a deliberate whip. My best friend grits her teeth. “Watch it!”
Bianca ignores her as she keeps talking to her friend, “Is Reid going?”
My ears prickle at his name, and I pick up my pace so I can eavesdrop.
“Obviously. He lives there.”
“Good, he’s SO hot. I wonder if he’s seeing anyone…”
“Doubt it. From what I hear, he doesn’t date… or do girlfriends.”
Bianca laughs confidently, “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl! I need to get in good with him. You know who his mom is? I NEED that internship for my portfolio…”
Piper glares at their backs as they disappear, but I barely register it. Reid's name has snagged me, dragging me back to where we left things this morning.
“I’ll be at the pool all afternoon for training, Lani. Please come find me, and we can talk about it before you make any rash decisions…” His eyes filled with genuine concern, and my heart fluttering against my chest as he turned his killer, panty-dropping smile on me.
“Hey Pipes… want to come with me to do something annoying…?”
REID
It’s hard to concentrate on training. My eyes keep sliding to the aquatic center entrance, where I’m hoping that at any moment, a certain local girl I hadn’t seen in five years before last night, is about to walk in and tell me we have a deal.
“Callahan!”
The ball whizzes past my ear, almost clipping me in the head, as my attention returns to the pool.
I look over at Coach Belison, five foot nothing if he stands on his tiptoes, who glares at me from his place at the sideline of the pool. He throws his hands up in despair.
“Hello?!”
I swim after the ball, my powerful strokes slicing through the water with ease, guiding it in the wake in front of me. It’s not arrogance, just a fact, that my long frame makes me an ideal water polo player. Actually, more than ideal… I’m the best. At six foot four, I’m one of the tallest guys on the team, and my hours in the gym over the summer have paid off. My legs are strong, my shoulders firm.
Belison blows his whistle, and the team stops running drills and congregates at the edge of the pool. Fingertips hold onto the tiled lip, knees resting against the slick, underwater walls, as Belison squints at us, gathering his stocky power to deliver one of his world-famous booming pep talks.
Niko, forced to sit out, creeps closer, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Belison was furious when he realized his newest driver recruit was going to be out for four weeks.
“As you know, our first game is this coming weekend, UC Santa Barbara…” our Coach continues, and the team groans. UCSB was one of our hardest competitors last year; in fact, they knocked us out of the semi-finals, a dirty tussle with a lot of injuries. I rotate my left shoulder, subconsciously remembering that game.
“I want everyone who has NOT hurt themselves by screwing around…” he says, glancing pointedly at Niko, who shrinks back, “to give it a hundred and fifty percent. Just because it’s the first game doesn’t mean there won't be an opportunity to dominate. And you never know who might be watching…” Belison’s eyes flick to me quickly before he looks down at his dry-erase board, outlining a new play he wants to try.
I find it hard to listen as my heart rate ramps up in my chest. If Belison is hinting that an Olympic scout might be at the game… at any of our games, I have to make sure to bring it. That means giving this season everything I’ve got, no complications, no distractions…
Just as I have the thought, movement in the corner of my eye alerts me to the biggest distraction I could possibly imagine, walking into the pool area. Lani finds a seat in one of the bleachers, putting her overstuffed backpack down quietly.
I’m not the only one who notices Lani’s arrival as an elbow under the water drives into my ribs.
“Holy fuck, dude, look who it is!” Dante’s cheeky grin is wide across his face as his eyes track Lani and another girl, a redhead, who looks vaguely familiar.
I try not to turn my head too much, pretending to lock in on Belison’s terrible stick figure drawings and arrows. Is she here to rat us out straight to Coach? Accept the terms of my deal? Is she going to lose it when she hears the lie I had to tell my mom…?
On my other side, Miles dips his chin in and out of the water, his eyes also on Lani and her friend as they settle in.
“Who’s she with? She’s cute. And she looks familiar…?” Dante’s locked in like a golden retriever with his eyes set on a new toy.
“I think that’s… she works at the campus bookstore, right. Piper…?” Miles supplies, and I can tell by the way he says her name that a) he also thinks she’s cute and b) he definitely knows she works at the bookstore. Dante senses Miles’s interest, and it’s like catnip to a territorial tiger.
He splashes water at Miles, “I wonder if she’s into blondes… or dudes in general.” Dante holds a fist up, “Ally.”
Miles grits his teeth, about to say something, when Belison claps his hands loudly, pissed to notice that his three-star players aren’t paying attention.
“Something you’d like to share with the class, friends?” His eyes are pointed spikes leveled at us. Dante, Miles, and I shake our heads no, eyes forward.
“Shame, seemed like you were having a good little kiki… if you’re feeling chatty, must mean you’re not working hard enough. Everybody go’on and give me ten laps, courtesy of your captain and his little cronies.”
The rest of the team groans.
“Now!”
LANI
Even though I’m nervous about what I’m going to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything hotter in my life than the pool session we’ve caught the end of, and I KNOW Piper hasn’t because she won’t shut up about it as we wait for Reid and the other guys to finish.
“Why haven’t I come to spy on these water polo dudes before?!?” She keeps exclaiming, bouncing on the edge of the bench like an excitable child hopped up on butter mochi.
I want to agree with her, but it’s hard to formulate a sentence as I watch Reid drive through the water, shoulders cutting clean through the churn like a shark chasing its prey. My brain can’t seem to reconcile the powerful, dominating figure with the little boy who used to steal my shoes and chase my childhood cat Miki.
Well, you DID have a crush on him before, my traitorous brain supplies unhelpfully, and I have to remind myself that thirteen and fifteen are very different than eighteen and twenty. The last time I had any sort of deluded attraction to Reid Callahan, I still had braces on and wore a training bra.
The short, angry man on the side of the pool, presumably the team coach, blows his whistle in a long burst, and Piper finally stills as she watches, riveted, as the twenty or so water polo players haul themselves out of the pool in navy swim briefs with the school crest printed on the side. Slick with water, all broad shoulders and hard stomachs, their lean, dripping wet muscles are straight out of a calendar. Reid is last out of the pool, and I have to force myself not to stare at his taut body on full display, the speedo covering the only bit of him I can’t see…
Reid towels off, but I feel his eyes find me in the stands, his lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. We lock eyes, and he cocks his head in the direction of the exit, the message clear: meet me outside.
Piper is lost in her phone as we wait in the warm sunshine.
“Did you know the men’s US water polo team has been to, like, twenty-four Olympics? And yet somehow I have never once been to a single game of this sport.”
I nod, but I’m barely listening, fidgeting with the edge of my thumb’s cuticles anxiously.
“AND” Piper continues, “Pacific Shore has been THE school that the majority of Olympic water polo players have come from? How did I not know any of this about my new favorite sport…?”
She trails off as she notices, at the same time I do. The players from the pool laughing and talking, gym bags slung over their shoulders, coming out of the complex. If she realizes that every one of the guys walking past us gives me a reverent, eyes downcast nod, she doesn’t show it, her gaze solely focused on Reid, bringing up the rear.
“There he is!” she whispers, as if I could miss him.
Reid is flanked by Dante and Miles, and the trio slows as they reach us. A wide smile plastered across Dante’s face, a shy one on Miles’, and a grimace on Reid’s.
“Ladies,” booms Dante, running a hand casually through his damp, freshly showered hair, a move I’m sure has worked for him thousands of times before. “Enjoy the free show?” He flexes his smooth biceps, and I see Miles and Reid die a little inside.
Piper, unable to play any situation cool, immediately blurts out, “It was so fun!!!” And I can see that both Dante and Miles are at first taken aback, then charmed by her open excitement.
“When you did the one move where you got up so high in the water…” she turns to Miles, “and you in goals blocking every time… I mean…” she trails off, the natural magnetism of her personality flooding out of her, sparkling over the boys. I know without looking in their direction that they’ve both fallen under the Piper Weiler spell.
Poor things. Good luck to them.
“Lani, do you want to—“
“Should we—?”
Reid and I accidentally talk over each other at the same moment and then chuckle awkwardly.
Piper throws me a wink as Reid takes a few steps to the side, and I follow. The sound of my best friend’s bubbly chatter follows us, and I can’t help but notice that Miles and Dante both seem perfectly content to be on the receiving end of it.
Reid leans against a pillar, trying to look relaxed, but I can see the vein in his neck ticking like a stress time bomb.
“You came to practice.”
“I did.”
“Does that mean…” Reid trails off, and for a second, I debate torturing him, but his eyes are so worried, I don’t have the heart to.
“I want the internship,” I say simply, and Reid can’t help it; he happily punches the air before remembering he has an image to uphold.
“Okay, cool. Sick…” He softens. “Thank you, Lani. You really don’t know what this means—”
I cut him off, “But I still want you guys to fix the damage to the tower. As soon as possible. My grandfather said the council is checking a bunch of the old ones this weekend.”
Reid pales as I continue, “Fix it as a group, or pay someone to do it for you. Whatever it is, you better figure it out quick.” Reid nods fast. “And the flag… I’m still thinking about what to do about that, but it’ll have to be replaced, and the original will need to be mended.”
“Absolutely.”
Some of the tension slips out of me. Transaction done.
“I don’t feel good about lying to my grandfather. Or about helping a rich kid get out of trouble… but the truth is, I need a job, and I want the internship. Any edge I can get over anyone else in my program.” I clear my throat, hating the vulnerability that creeps into my voice. “People already think of me as the local scholarship girl who doesn’t deserve to be here—”
“Well, fuck them if they do,” Reid blurts out sharply, and we’re both surprised. “I mean, nobody should think less of you for… what? Your circumstances? Being born here? You deserve to be in the program just as much as any of the mainlanders.”
I’m startled. Not just by his words, the sentiment that mirrors my grandfather’s from earlier that morning on the beach, but by the anger and feeling in his voice. If this had come from anyone else, I’d be touched, but coming from Reid, I’m not quite sure what to do with it. I smile plastically, not letting the emotion reach my eyes as I hold out my hand for a shake.
“So that’s it then? We shake on it, and it’s a done deal?”
Reid reaches his hand towards mine, but stops, and I see some of the hesitation re-enter his eyes. He bites his lip, and my heart starts to sink.
“That’s it, right, Callahan?” I try again, steel entering my tone as my eyes search his face for a clue. Reid swallows, pushes his shoulders back, and finally meets my eye.
“Okay, so… here’s the thing Leilani…”
REID
“Aloha…! You all look stunning.” Dante opens the cooler at his feet as a group of girls from the campus approaches the bonfire pyre being built on the sand outside our house. “We’ve got beer, seltzers, wine coolers if you’re feeling fancy…!”
Miles fiddles with the speaker system, checking the cables that run through our front door and past the squeaky metal gate. It’s our first party of the year, and I know everyone on the team is keen to get loose, especially after the events of last night and today’s brutal training.
A pang hits me as my mind wanders back to the post-training conversation with Lani. I’ve never seen anyone so furious. Her eyes turning molten as she stared me down. Well, technically… up.
“You told your mother WHAT?!” she’d all but yelled at me. “Why would you do that!?”
The truth was, I hadn’t been able to come up with one of the millions of other excuses that plagued me now. The conversation with my mom had been spinning out of control. She’d had too many questions.
“Are you romantically involved with this girl?”
Another group wanders along the beach, and my eyes search it. She’s not there.
You do think Lani’s hot… an intrusive thought whispers, and I try to chase it away with a swig of warm beer. No. Absolutely not.
Lani is probably the one person in the whole of O’ahu I can’t think about like that. We would have to find a way to play along for now, until she got in good with my mom and proved herself, while I figured out a way to fix the tower and flag and make it seem like it had never happened, hoping for the best that Lani would keep up her end of the deal…
“Need a fresh one?” Miles offers, a cold beer in his hand, and I jump, caught up in my head.
Miles frowns. “You okay, man? You’ve been off since practice…”
I force a smile and take another long drink from the can. Miles grins at me.
“This is about her, isn’t it? Lani.”
Instead of answering, I finish the rest of the drink. Miles crows triumphantly. “Ha! I knew it!”
The loud outburst draws the attention of Dante, who saunters over, happy as a pig in shit to be hosting beautiful women who are all vying for a chance to see the inside of his infamous bedroom. The man loves to be the center of attention, while I secretly loathe it.
“What are we talking about?” he asks, eyeing the growing group of party attendees, scoping the talent for the night’s lucky lady.
“Don’t—“ I start, but Miles jumps over me.
“Callahan’s crush.”
Dante’s eyebrows rise. “Lani?” My face stays frozen as my two best friends high-five.
“I told you, didn’t I tell you? Nice one, bro!”
Miles throws an arm around my shoulder. “I feel like a proud papa. Our boy, finally like-likes a girl. A smoke show too, might I add. Her AND her friend.” He wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. “You’re so grown up.”
I shove him off me. “Don’t make it weird…”
Miles and Dante share a mock-offended look.
“Us? Make it weird?
“We would literally NEVER do that…” Dante squints down the beach. “Oh, wait! Here comes the future Mrs. Callahan now… LANI! HEY!”
“Fucking hell,” whistles Miles, and I turn to see what he sees in the fading sunset light.
My heart leaps into my throat as I see her. Floating down the beach in a white sundress, the swing of the linen against her tan skin. My lungs quit on me, and the only thought left in my head is:
This was such a bad idea… I am so, so screwed.
LANI
Piper’s mad at me but pretending not to be. I can tell by the way she walks a half step ahead of me towards the group on the beach, a smile frozen on her face.
“I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me.” Her words are clipped, every word enunciated perfectly, her cheeks pink under her freckles.
“It’s not a big deal—” I start, but that’s the wrong answer as Piper stops and spins, her sparkly pink halter dress flaring out around her thighs like a scallop shell.
“Not a big deal that you’re dating someone and didn’t tell me?!?” Her pale eyes are fire as she glares, and I fight the urge to fling myself into the ocean and swim away from her. I look at the gentle licking waves, debating how far I’d get…
“It’s kinda recent,” I try, and Piper’s nostrils flare. “And it’s not like dating-dating, more like… talking… seeing each other…”
More like lying, my inner monologue whispers unhelpfully.
Piper tries to read what I’m not telling her. She knows me better than I know myself, so I’m not surprised she’s picked up on the fact that something is off.
“It’s casual… I mean, look at him and then look at me…”
My words melt Piper’s icy exterior, and a glimpse of my warm, loving best friend peeks through as she steps forward and takes my hands roughly in hers.
“What does that even mean?!” she half scolds. “I AM looking at you! You’re gorgeous! You’re the most gorgeous girl who has ever lived.” Piper pulls me in for an aggressive hug, and that’s when my eyes land on the group of tall, athletic dudes further down the beach watching us, whispering. And behind them, hovering, the pinched face of the girl who made fun of me in class, Bianca.
Perfect. Just what I need, more of an audience.
Piper pulls back, love and pride radiating out of her face, and I feel a pang hit my heart about lying to her. Piper has always been my hype girl, my number one fan.
“He’s lucky to have you,” Piper drops my hands. “And I mean, duh, he’s hot and rich, so obviously I approve…”
My best friend falls in beside me as we continue walking, our toes dipping into the sand. “I’ll just have to warn him; if he messes with you, he’s going to have to deal with me!”
I force a laugh that feels hollow in my throat as I look at my pint-sized pal. I genuinely believe Piper would fight a hammerhead for me if she had to. Piper relaxes as we draw closer to the group, her uncontainable excitement growing.
“And bonus for me…” she continues, her eyes landing on Dante and Miles, “he’s also got gorgeous friends to flirt with! Can you believe we FINALLY made it to a Reid Callahan party?! If only our middle school selves could see us now…!”
I look up and see Reid, who looks like he stepped out of a Hawaii beach catalog, soft button-down, olive chinos, sleeves shoved up.
Before we can reach the group, Bianca and her brunette buddy step in front of us, bouncing their perfect hair, blocking us from view. Dante shoots Reid a bemused look, Miles cranes his head to the side, not even pretending to be interested.
As we draw closer, I can just make out what Bianca’s saying as she plays with the long gold chain around her neck, “…would just love it if you could make an intro to your mom. I’d obviously be so grateful…”
I can tell Reid’s not listening; his eyes find mine, a smile spreading across his face like he’s actually happy to see me. The cartilage in my knees turns to jelly.
But it’s Dante who jogs a few steps forward to greet us, completely cutting Bianca off. “There she is!” he whoops, taking my right wrist in his, raising it to the sky like I’m Rocky Balboa. “The first woman in years to win my best friend's heart!”
I glance at Reid, whose face is frozen in disbelief, unable to react, as the curious party attendees' conversations die off, and they turn to see what’s going on. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks as Miles takes a few of his giant steps around Bianca to reach me and take my left wrist, which he also raises up.
“To not making it weird,” he calls out, and Reid’s head is in his hands. I can’t help it; a bubble of laughter explodes out of me. Miles grins.
“Welcome to the family, Lani…” he glances to his other side. Piper stands, her face a picture of shock, and gently holds out his hand to her. “Welcome, both of you.”
Piper’s face melts into delight as Dante pulls us all into a big, five-person hug, jumping us around in a circle as he sings songs— “The captain of my captain is my captain. The captain of my captain is my captain. The captain… Reid my captain, get over here!”
Reid, embarrassed by the hollers and cheers, excuses himself from Bianca, pushing past her. She turns stiffly to watch him join our group, and I can feel the angry heat radiating off her stare. Dante opens up his arm closest to me, forcing Reid to squish in next to me.
“Hi,” he says quietly, his eyes crinkling at the ridiculousness of it all.
“Hi,” I smile back as Dante tightens his grip.
“I hate you both,” Reid tells Dante and Miles loudly. They howl with laughter.
“No you don’t! You love us! But not as much as you loveeeeee—” Reid elbows Dante sharply in the stomach, and Dante, Miles, and Piper snicker, united against us.
Reid shakes his head, looking down at me again with a dimpled grin. And even though I tell myself it's a strategy — a clean trade with a boy I know better than to trust — my heart flutters, and I have the sudden, terrible feeling I've just made the easiest mistake of my life.
Paris Herbert-Taylor is an Australian, Los Angeles-based writer and producer working across film, television, branded content, and theatre. A former Development Executive, Paris was a co-producer on the docu-series On The Roam, and has worked on various branded spots for Carhartt and Coca-Cola. Her first feature writing credit, '12 Dares of Christmas' was released on Peacock in 2023. Paris is currently staffed in her first writers room, and her second romantic comedy feature goes into production in August 2026.
