Burlap told me to lay it all out, so I did.

Now, I'm standing in my shower, trying to wash the memory of all that 'laying it all out' away as effectively as I'm rinsing the beach from my hair so I can find my joy again. So far, it's not working.

Do I even still want to go to the dance? What's the point?

I cannot believe that Gibbs dared to interact with Kicks after I told him never to talk about her again. Maybe I should've specified that it meant 'to her' as well since he might not be all that bright. It freaks me out that he was messing with Kira while I was consoling Amber. Sure, she started the conversation by asking him if he was okay when she nearly tripped over his legs. He was sitting against the restroom's wall, looking injured, and Kira has always been a kind soul.

What if he'd hurt her?!

I'm glad Burlap came along when he did and chased Marshall away. I can always count on my buddy to step in when I'm not around. He would've done that for anybody confronted by a bully, but I'm still grateful.

I'm touched that Kicks said she didn't believe Marshall when he told her I sucker-punched him. She obviously knows me pretty well, and she trusts me. While they were walking back to the umbrellas, she and Burlap saw me with Amber under the trees. I'm glad Burlap asked me about it, or there would've been another misunderstanding between Kira and me. I didn't want that, so I told them all about Marshall's fun interaction with the billboard and my fist. I didn't tell them what he'd said about Kira. There's no way I could repeat those words and Kicks might feel hurt or be scared if she knows what he said.

I still get angry when I think about it.

When Burlap left to go home to get his grandfather ready for bed, I took his advice and bit the bullet. I filled Kira in on all the sordid details she didn't already know about my almost-relationship with Amber and how it nearly messed up my friendship with Jet. I'm done with that topic now. I hope she is too.

I don't want anything to get in our way anymore. I need this confusing period in our relationship to be over. I need Kira to be committed to us for real and not as my tutor.

Doesn't she need it too?

She brought the tutor thing up again, and I'm ashamed to say I was a little spiteful. I told her some details about kissing Amber and finding her fascinating... before I woke up and got over her. I mean, if Kira is just my tutor, as she claims, she shouldn't care, right?

She cared. I could tell that she cared even when she said she didn't.

Seeing that almost gave me hope, but to tell the truth, I was starting to get angry. I was bearing my soul to her and she was just not getting it. She was sympathetic, thinking Amber broke my heart, though I pretty much spelt out that she didn't. She remembers me being depressed when things with Amber ended last year and still feels bad for me. That is just annoying. She keeps on heading in the completely wrong direction.

I wanted to tell her that she was the one who broke my heart and is still breaking it, but it felt too mean to tell her that. Besides, I'm not entirely sure she would believe me and I lost my nerve. I really bodged my last attempt to get her to see that she's the one I love.

What did I say to her?

"I love someone else, but I'm not good enough for her, and no girl I've tried to date could ever fill that void, and then, last year, I thought she was in love with someone else and completely lost to me, and I got a little drunk and made a mistake with Amber, and I wish I could take it back, but..."

Brilliant, Ethan friggin' Fletcher!

Seriously! Burlap should've stayed and done the talking. Now, Kira seems to think there's some mystery girl I'm in love with. She did not look happy about it. I should probably be happy about that, but I'm not! I nearly buried my head in the sand in frustration when I realised that not only were we not on the same page, but she was now in completely the wrong book! She was even trying to be helpful and consoling!

Kill me now!

"Ethan, have you actually asked this girl to be yours? Did she say no? Maybe she just doesn't know how you feel. Maybe she loves you too."

Seriously! I wanted to scream.

We were suddenly dragged into a general friend evacuation before I could simply tackle the bull by the horn and wrestle it... and possibly Kira... to the ground and blurt out the whole truth. I wanted to let whatever happened happen, just as long as Kira clearly knew I was talking about her and only her. Everybody was scurrying around, packing up, and we all came home to get ready for the dance. I tried again when we were all packed up and about to head to the car.

"Kicks, I just need you to know one thing," I told her. "There's no Amber and me, and there will never be an Amber and me, and I'm not even sure there ever was an Amber and me. There's only you and me..."

I thought that summed it up pretty well, but I don't think she got what I was saying because she nodded with a strained smile and said, "Thank you for sharing all of that with me, Ethy. I know it wasn't easy." Then she practically ran away again. She kept on running away from me this afternoon. I don't know how to feel about that.

This morning, everything was perfect.

When she scurried off, I was struggling too much with the unwieldy umbrella on my shoulder and the pack on my back to give chase. Besides, I felt deflated, defeated and defective. I gave up... at least for the time being.

Is she going to run away from me at the dance as well?

It's frustrating. The loving relationship I've yearned for for so many years feels so close one moment - I can almost touch it - and the next, it feels further away than ever before. Just when I think I'm breaking through to Kira, I discover that I'm lost and lonely again.

When the water running off me is clear, no longer muddled with sand and soap suds, I turn off the taps and step out of the shower. I grab a fresh, dry towel from the towel rack and give my body a quick rubdown before wrapping it around my waist and walking into my bedroom. I'm about to close my curtains, when I see Kira opening her window, waving at me.

As always, my heart jumps at the sight of her, but right now, the joy comes with a twinge of sadness. She is watching me, biting her bottom lip, her hair a golden halo in the late sun, while I slide my window open. She is so beautiful, it makes my heart ache.

Usually, when I'm dressed in nothing but a towel, she dives for cover.

Progress?

"Thank you, Ethy!" she shouts when I brace my forearms on the windowsill and lean out to hear what she wants.

At first, I think she's thanking me again for bleeding all over her, the towels and the beach, spilling my guts in her lap, and I almost pull back and close the window. I've had enough of her friggin' gratitude. I need her understanding. I'm about to retreat when I realise her smile is no longer strained but wide and bright. She even jumps up and down doing a cute little happy dance, warming my heart and lifting my mood.

I'm so friggin' easy to please!

"They are beautiful!" she yells, hugging herself and swaying from side to side. "I love them! Thank you so much!"

Oh! The mounted photographs! I forgot about them. Her dad must've put them up for her, and she saw them when she came home. I'm glad she likes them. It always makes me happy to see her joy.

"You're welcome, Kicks!" I shout back, and now we're standing here, looking at each other over the expanse, grinning awkwardly. So many unspoken words and feelings are passing back and forth between us, but I no longer know how to interpret any of them. I am too afraid even to try.

Well, I need to get dressed, and to do that, I need to get naked, and she won't like that. Straightening up, I blow her a kiss - which she answers with one of her own - and pull my curtains closed.

Deli put my clothes out for me while I was in the shower. When did she become my very own stylist? She never usually does this. Even when I ask her what to wear to a party or an event, she just says: "stuff that will make you not be naked." This is the second time she's picked my outfit for me.

I don't usually care much about what I'm wearing. Deli knows what suits me and what I like, so I obediently dress in the dark grey three-quarter sleeve, lace-up, cotton shirt - one of my favourites - and my black jeans. I like this shirt because it always makes me feel like a pirate. My sister used it as a pattern when she made the white pirate shirts we wore for the race today with our frayed cut-off jeans. She just gave the pirate shirts bigger sleeves to look more pirate-like. I'm so gonna wear that shirt again... a lot. It's nice and thin and looks really cool.

The sun is fading fast, its last rays bathing the kitchen in yellow light when I'm done getting dressed and leave my room in search of my mom. She is sitting at the kitchen table with Delia, looking up from the magazine they're drooling over when I join them. I put the first aid case I brought beside their book, glimpsing the image on the page.

It's a picture of a wedding dress. I know Deli was asked to make a wedding dress for one of the women in our church, and she is searching for ideas to show the bride. It's a classy dress: long, lacy and very pretty. I can imagine Kira wearing it, her hair filled with flowers and her smile radiant, and now I'm just sad again.

I pull out the chair on my mother's other side and sit down heavily, placing my arm with the stitches on the tabletop within her reach.

"Mom, would you mind cleaning and dressing it for me, please?" I ask, but she's already opening the first aid kit and pulling the necessary stuff out, neatly laying everything out, ready for use. She'd been nagging me since this morning to let her change the dressing and is happy I'm finally letting her do it.

"Does it hurt?" she asks, gently lifting my arm to inspect the dressing and look at all my other abrasions. Satisfied that nothing is bleeding and I don't seem to be in danger of losing my arm, she lays it down and runs her fingertips over the edges of the dressing, looking for a place to start loosening it.

"Not really. Just pluck it off," I bravely tell her when she carefully lifts a corner of the dressing and works the tip of small scissors into the opening to cut the hair sticking to it.

"Nonsense!" she huffs. I'm surprised by how fast and pain-free the dressing comes off under her coaxing, and then I see that Theresa was kind enough to shave a large area around the wound. Awesome!

The row of neat stitches looks a bit red, and one or two tore ever so slightly, just enough to make it sting when my mother cleans it with a cotton swab covered in iodine. All in all, it looks pretty good.

"You need to take it easy with this arm, honey," she says, clicking her tongue and giving me a stern look. "The stitches are inflamed, and they're tearing. It will leave a bad scar if you don't take proper care of it."

"Then I'll make an even better pirate," I grin, and when she glares at me, I quickly add, "It's not that bad, but I'll be more careful. I promise." I mean, the woman has scissors. They're small and not very sharp, but still, she's resourceful. I'm not a complete idiot.

"It took me nine long months to make this arm," she says, causing Delia, watching the operation with keen interest, to laugh, "and it always takes you just a few minutes to destroy it."

"Wow, that got depressing really fast," I chuckle. "It's not destroyed."

"I thought you said there were about two stitches; this is closer to a gazillion," Delia observes, giving me an unhappy look.

"Two... gazillion... somewhere in between," I shrug. "What's the difference?"

"Ethe," my mother says, stroking the new dressing in place after applying antiseptic salve to the cut. She takes my hand and kisses my scraped knuckles. "I am so proud of how you went full out to save Kira, and I'm so grateful to you for that, but son, you need to take better care of yourself. You're too wild."

"And you're turning my Simon into a hooligan too!"

"Yeah, sure, that was me," I scoff. Delia clearly doesn't know her Simon as well as she thinks she does.

"I wasn't thinking, Mom," I say honestly, ignoring Delia's threatening look. "And I cannot promise that I'll be thinking next time Kira is in danger... or you... or Deli or anybody I love. I could promise to be less wild, but I hate lying to you."

Sighing, she moistens a fresh swab with iodine and carefully cleans all my other scratches and scrapes.

"I saw that things are finally moving in a good direction with Kira," she says after a while, giving me a sly look, and when I shrug, pulling a face, she frowns. "It's not?"

"Of course it is," Delia snorts, looking exasperated.

"I don't know," I admit, heaving a deep sigh, my fingers finding the mother-of-pearl disk of Kira's necklace resting in the hollow of my throat. "Things were starting to feel great and real, but then it just became messed up again. Maybe she loves me, maybe she doesn't. It doesn't matter either way if she's never going to be honest with herself."

"You should just grab her, push her into a dark corner and have your way with her," Deli tells me. "That will help her admit to herself that she loves you."

"What?!" my mother frowns, slapping Delia's arm, and my evil sister chuckles happily. She is obviously enjoying my shock and my mother's horror.

And people call me a pest!

"It's Ethan, Mom!" she exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief at our reaction, still laughing. "What do you think 'having his way' means? He'll just carry her on his back to buy her ice cream."

"Oh, yes, you're right," my mother says, closing the first aid kit. She places one of her hands over mine, resting on the tabletop, patting it affectionately. "I forgot that you're the wily one in this family, and Ethan is the angel."

"Yikes!" Delia exclaims. "I'm gonna be sick. This favouritism is very upsetting," she huffs. "Just so you know."

She pushes her chair back and jumps to her feet when my mother and I laugh at her.

"Look, Ethe," she says, leaning over my mother's head from behind in what is possibly meant as a type of loving hug but looks a little abusive. My mom is turning it into a sweet hug, stroking my sister's forearms, dangling over her shoulders. "I'm going over there now to help Kiki get ready for the dance. I'll warm her up for you, and then you can just move in for the kill. It will be easy-peasy."

"Honestly, Delia," my mother growls, and Delia hurriedly straightens, slipping her arms from her hands. "Do I need to sit you down and have another talk with you about being a lady?"

"Ugh, please, no," Delia chortles. "The first 23 times were painful enough. Seriously, I mean it, Ethe," she says, suddenly serious. "It's gonna be alright. I'll listen to what's on her heart and help her deal with whatever ants crawled up her butt and is making her skittish again."

Delia saw the way Kira was acting when we were coming home. When we were alone, she asked me if something bad happened, and I summed it up for her. She assured me that it wasn't anything that could not be sorted out fast.

I hope she's right.

"I appreciate your help, Deli," I assure her, narrowing my eyes in warning. "But please, be kind to Kicks."

"You're always saying things like that as if I'm ever unkind to her," she grumbles sulkily. "I love Kiki. I promise I'll be nice... and only spank her a little bit. Now, go do something about your hair. You look pretty, but your hair is a mess."

Delia takes the two dresses hanging over the back of a chair, drapes them over her arm and picks up the bag at her feet. I did not even notice that she had all these things ready in the kitchen.

"Thanks, Deli," I tell her, and she grins, winking at me. "No spanking!" I yell after her when she hurries out into the yard, closing the kitchen door behind her. "Where did you get her?" I ask my mom, and she laughs, shaking her head. "She's just like my sister."

"Nah, Aunt Eden is sweet," I tell her, and she giggles, giving me an incredulous look.

"Yes, like a particularly tangy cocktail with too much vodka in it," she laughs.

"Aunt Eden doesn't go around spanking people," I point out, and my mom shrugs, making a non-committal sound. "And she spoils me."

"Ain't that the truth!" my mom chuckles, tousling my hair.

Laughing, I get to my feet and cross to the kitchen counter, where I open a drawer and pull a fresh filter from the packet I find there. Time for some coffee to perk me up for the dance I now dread more than look forward to.

"I know Kira as well as I know my own children, Ethe," my mother tells me while I fill the coffee maker with water and put coffee grounds in the filter. "I can tell that she truly loves you. She has always looked at you with so much fondness. Even when she's mad at you, her eyes still soften when she looks at you. Today, I saw her look at you very differently, and her pure love was clear to see."

It's true; technically, my mom is Kira's mother too, and she knows her very well.

She rises from her seat to join me at the coffee maker, picking at my damp hair with gentle fingers before she leans in for a side hug, resting her head against my shoulder.

"Don't worry about all of this so much, Ethe. Don't just focus on your end destination. Enjoy the ride. You and Kira are still in school, there is plenty of time for reaching a point of full commitment. Just enjoy being with her and your friends. Let things unfold however they want to. If it's meant to be, it will come. Don't force it. You're still so young."

I place the coffee pot in its position and switch on the machine. Turning to my mother, I return her loving smile and nod slowly. She's right; I know she is. I'm overthinking things. I always do. I want to fast forward to watching our grandkids play on the beach and we're not even officially dating yet from Kira's point of view. There are so many good things in between we still need to do.

"You're right," I sigh, and she lays a hand against my cheek. "I'm just scared, you know? Next year we're going to university. If Kicks and I don't figure this out before then, I could lose her for good. There will be plenty of guys at Uni who like bugs and mud as much as she does. Guys who have more in common with her than I do. What chance will I stand then."

"Oh, Ethe," my mother smiles, running her fingertips over my jaw. "Don't underestimate yourself and your hold on that girl's heart. By your logic, you could meet a lovely girl who enjoys construction as much as you do."

I frown, shaking my head. How can she even think something like that?

"I have loved Kira for 12 years, Mom. She's the only one for me, and that will never change."

"Since I know you so well and know how steadfast you are in your likes and dislikes and commitments, I believe you, Ethe," she smiles. "The thing that I see, and you don't, is that Kira is a lot like you in that regard. In the 12 years I've known her, I've never seen her look at another boy the way she looks at you. Not even once. The only man she looks at with as much love, though a very different kind of love, is her father."

"It could be sisterly love she feels..."

"Believe me, honey, if Delia started looking at you the way that Kira does, I would be horrified and extremely worried," my mother laughs, patting my cheek. "Don't forget to shave before you pick Kiki up," she says, the laughter fading from her eyes while her fingers rasp over my stubble.

She always looks sad when she discovers that she has to buy my shoes a couple of sizes larger than the last time or when her hair snags on my stubble during a hug. I don't know what about me growing up scares her so much.

She's a lot more relaxed now that she knows I'm not leaving town at the end of the year. I didn't realise how much the idea of me moving to Hummelton stressed her until yesterday when the tension started to leave her.

"Hang in there, Ethe," she smiles, patting my back.

"Thanks, Mom," I grin, pulling her into my arms for a big bear hug.

♂♀