3rd ♬

I was awake all night, thinking how to avoid Jace Hamilton at all cost. So when the morning light caved in, I could still recall every tick of my bedside clock, which helpfully kept me wide awake.

After one useless effort of getting some decent sleep, I dragged myself out of bed. As I was getting ready for the day, Grandma and her little store oceans away came into mind. But it wasn't like she would pay me enough if I would watch the store for her, so I disregarded that idea.

I also thought about my different options, like working in a diner or something. The longer the working hours, the better. Even if I had to work for sixteen hours a day, I would do so, as long as I could avoid being seen by everyone at the beach. Working in the morning and coming home late sounded like one brilliant plan. If things could turn out that way, then I would have less time to hang around our house. And if that would happen, then the possibility of me seeing Jace would be less. So maybe avoiding him was possible, after all.

And as all those things trickled into my head, I opened my bag to get my purse. Something caught my attention. I had noticed the contract that had my signature on it.

I forgot.

Who would have thought that an odd contract would hold me back and never let me have the opportunity to at least hide myself? I held my head in between my hands, and suddenly felt a headache creeping in. I had no choice but to stay eight hours a day at the beach, meeting every single person in town, including him.

It was torture at its best.

Grabbing my phone, I caught a glimpse of my dusty old guitar behind my closet. I stared at it, and a string pulled my heart once more. Ever since that day, I never used it again. I thought about throwing it away, but I couldn't. That yellow, glitter-filled guitar was still holding a part of me that, at times, even I was reluctant to let go.

I closed my eyes, remembering the time when we first had a real conversation. It was two days after I'd found out that Mason had feelings for my other best friend, Claire. That was the day when I first talked to Jace Hamilton.

At that time, Claire was clueless. Yes, she was thoroughly uninformed about Mason's feelings. And I felt awkward being around them, thinking if I should just bolt out and leave them alone so that they could fall in love more easily.

And the fact that Claire and I shared the same passion of going after Jace Hamilton—shouting, I love you, Jace Hamilton! in every Midget Dreams' performance—it was more uncomfortable with Mason around.

And so that day, I was trying to assess the situation, thinking what I could do for the two, while standing at the other end of the hall and staring at them, who were several steps away. Then I heard a voice tell me, "Those two should be together."

When I turned to my right, toward that familiar voice, the world came to a stop—literally. After all, it was no other than Jace Hamilton, who was opening his locker to grab some books. And the catastrophic thing was, he was talking to me.

Of course, I tried to speak, but no words came out of my half-opened mouth. My inner self told me to say something and stop staring like a fool, but I couldn't help it.

"Are you a friend of them?" Jace threw me one brief glance, before closing his locker door. He was shining in front of me, and I had no choice but to just stand there, entirely dumbfounded.

When he met my eyes again, I instinctively darted my gaze everywhere, totally avoiding his. I remembered how he tried waving a hand in front of me, which forced me to let out a stiff nod, before he'd make a conclusion that I wasn't sane. He chuckled a bit in response, making the situation even more awkward.

My face flushed in return, embarrassed.

In my dreams, I had imagined this situation countless of times before. I always wondered what it would be like to speak to him for the first time. But the moment that it actually happened, all the lines I had thought of saying disappeared to nowhere, and my mind was plain blank. I even lost the ability to speak. All I could feel was my heart that was thumping wildly in my chest, and my inner self that was screaming in joy. I was too rattled that I just kept on fiddling with my fingertips.

"You're... kind of interesting," Jace said to me, a moment after, shaking his head a little and holding that well-kept smile on his face.

"Hi," I muttered under my breath, instantly scolding myself for even saying that. Out of all the things to say, I couldn't believe that I just said that.

"Oh, hi," Jace answered back, a bit confused. Of course, he would be. But regardless, he was polite enough to respond to my senseless statement. "You live next door, right?"

I just nodded. I still couldn't believe that we were having more than a mere hi and bye conversation, setting aside the fact that he knew that I lived next door. Okay, so we got introduced when my mom and I greeted them, but this was different. He was actually having some kind of conversation with me.

"Well, I guess I'll see you more often, then," he suggested.

I nodded once more.

"My mom told me that your name's Reese. I'm Jace, by the way," he casually said, extending his hand to me.

I was out of breath, so I wasn't able to respond to him. But I did manage to grab his strong, calloused hand and shook it for a moment. I swear, at that time, I promised myself that I would never wash my right hand again.

He also said goodbye, I think, before heading his way. And that was the day when the unimaginable had happened. That was our memorable first conversation that kept me awake all night for the next few weeks.

He had talked to me. Jace Hamilton was now aware of my existence. All those coming to their performances had paid off. He definitely knew that somewhere in this crazy town, a girl named Reese Burnett lived.

Those were the things that had been running inside my head at that time. The old me at that point was overjoyed with all that: first impression, first talk, and confirmation of existence.

But now, I regretted that I'd chosen to remember everything, why I kept on dumbly repeating his words to myself that day, imprinting it in my thoughts. Every word, syllable and intonation he used, I made sure that my mind would remember it all. It surely wasn't helping the situation now.

I should have let it pass by, just like any other memory. 'Cause if that was what had happened, I wouldn't be this miserable now, constantly thinking about him, with every detail deeply embedded in my mind.

I put down my purse and phone on my desk. Any reminder of the past must be thrown away if I were to counter attack him efficiently. I couldn't afford getting distracted by this guitar. Grasping the guitar in my right hand, I clasped it tight as I went down the stairs. My entire family threw me skeptical looks, probably figuring out what I was up to.

Without a word, I went outside, standing in front of the huge, blue trash bin. It was open and I tried peeking inside. The smell reeked, and I instinctively pinched my nose. Moving back a little, I created a breathable gap between me and the deadly trash bin.

I sighed.

It was no use. Beanie, my baby guitar, would hate me if I'd place her in a place as dirty as this. But she knew that I had to get her out of my life. It would be easier that way. I'd had too much of holding on to those memories.

"I'm sorry, baby," I told her, giving her one last kiss, before placing her beside the trash bin. Catching one glimpse of my guitar before leaving, I felt worse. It was, like, I was saying goodbye to something that had been a part of me for the last two years. Even though Jace and I had turned out to be sworn enemies, there were those magical moments that only that guitar knew had happened.

♫♩♬♩♬

"So what are you going to teach me tonight?" I asked him, as he motioned for me to sit down beside him.

"Strumming. You're still bad at it," he replied, handing me the guitar.

He didn't have enough time after school to heed my request and teach me how to play guitar, since he was in a band that took almost all of his time. So we had decided that he would teach me after dinner. Well, it did involve the risk of sneaking out and getting caught. But so far, after several nights, our parents still hadn't got a clue on what we were up to.

I tried strumming again, and he continued watching me. The sound was horrible, but he kept his patience intact. I kept my breathing even, though it was hard, seeing that he was only a few inches away and the touch of his hands every once in a while didn't help the situation. We were good friends; that was all. I wasn't sure if this would lead to anything. Regardless, I was happy at what we had right now.

"Not like that," he said. "1-2-3-4."

"Like this?" I asked, confused with my not so coordinated hands.

"Put an emphasis on the first one," he reminded me.

I was planning to sing and play the guitar for a performance, and I somehow told him that during one of those after dinner chats. Our parents became much acquainted with each other, so they'd decided we should have dinner together instead. The set up this square outdoor table in between our yards, underneath a mango tree and overlooking the beach.

"I don't think I can do this," I muttered, confused on how to make my fingers move the way I wanted to. I tried strumming again, only to end up making banging noises.

"It's not that hard," Jace said, as he walked behind me. Then he held my right hand and strummed with me. "Here, like this."

I caught my breaths fast. He was behind me, and his breath tickled my ear. And I was thankful that he couldn't see my face, because, it was, in fact, burning. The guy I had a crush on for months was right here behind me, holding my hand. How crazy could this be?

"It looks so easy for you," I stuttered, trying to hide my awkwardness.

"You'll get it in no time," he encouraged me. "I've been like that before."

"So how did you get so good with it?" I asked as he continued strumming using both of our hands.

"My father used to be in a band before. He taught me how," he said.

"Uncle Chad?" I repeated, surprised.

"Yeah, isn't it funny?" Jace laughed. I liked the sound of his laughter, like a passing wind. Warm. Thoughtful. "Nobody would guess that."

"Well, I wasn't expecting that. It's like he's the mayor and, you know, it's so..." I tried saying.

"Weird?"

"Not really, just surprising, I guess." I shrugged.

"Mmm," he mumbled. "And you're doing good, if you haven't noticed."

I blinked and noticed that I was now talking to him and he wasn't holding my hand anymore. And true enough, I was strumming instead of banging. "How..."

"When you feel the rhythm, it's easier," Jace said, taking a seat beside me.

"The rhythm?" I asked.

"Yes," he said with a smile, "everything has a rhythm. You can't go fast, nor can you slow down, or you'll just end up getting lost and plucking randomly. It just needs to be right, like with everything else."

"Which means? I'm not quite following you."

"In time, you'll know."

♫♩♬♩♬

It wasn't Jace, I usually told myself. It was those memories that were the hardest to let go.

"Are you done with throwing away Beanie?" Dad asked, as he watched me climb up the stairs to my room. He yawned, placing today's newspaper on the table. I noticed that his arms were still showing bed marks.

I checked the clock. It was six thirty in the morning. My dad worked as a town clerk for almost two years now. And both our jobs started at eight, so we still got plenty of time.

"Yeah," I answered weakly, tapping the wooden railing of the stairs.

"You'll be all right," he cheered me on. With due conviction, he looked at me straight in the eyes and added, "Just a night or two, and you won't feel a thing anymore."

That was the thing I liked most about Dad. He seemed to understand me in ways that Mom never did. And he saw everything in a positive way, that in the end, he believed that everything would be all right.

Truth be told, I never totally understood his way of thinking. But then, I was glad that he was my father. His simple words that I would be fine had been my source of strength when things had been rough before.

"It's only a guitar," said Mom, handing him his coffee. Turning her attention to me, she said, "And you, come down after you get your things and eat breakfast."

I just nodded, treading my way upstairs. Letting out a sigh, I smiled and cheered myself on. I still had a long summer vacation ahead, and it was supposed to start out right, even if there was that bothersome thing about Jace Hamilton.

Opening the door of my room, I headed toward my desk, where I left my phone and purse. I put all my things inside my tote bag. Shoving all my worries aside, I tried welcoming the new day. Until I'd see Jace, I had decided not to think about him.

Happily stepping down the stairs, all of them threw me worried, surprised, and what-was-she-up-to look all at the same time. I shrugged my shoulders, and they all rolled their eyes, completely unconvinced with my desire to look happy.

"She's weird," Cad muttered, as he dug into his bowl of cereal.

"She'll get over it," Dad told him. "Give her a break."

"Come on and take a seat, Reese. Just eat, will you?" Mom called out.

Placing my bag at the bottom of the stairs, I went to the table. I took a seat beside Dad, facing my annoying brother.

"So you're going to your new job today?" Dad said in a calculating voice, trying to catch my eye.

"Yup," I answered.

There was this feeling of heaviness in the air. And for a moment, I was confused on what they were up to. As soon as I took my seat, Cad threw me quick glances, as if there was something stupid written on my face, and he couldn't tell me about it. Dad began that uneasy clearing of his throat every thirty seconds. And for Mom, she wasn't saying a thing, which was definitely bothersome, given how much a prater she was. Two clunky minutes of chewing the food in my mouth, I knew something was definitely wrong.

Ending my not-looking-at-anyone's-eyes drama, I stared intently at all of them, holding everyone's eyes in mine for several seconds, as I tried to decipher what was going on inside their heads. When I finished scanning the room, I knew what they had been trying to tell me. I came to realize that one thing that I'd missed when I went up to my room and grabbed my things. There was a green minivan that was not in the Hamilton's front yard a while ago.

And then, it hit me.

He was back.

My first instinct was to hide under the table, but that sounded a little bit odd since I'd never wanted anyone to know that I was bothered with Jace Hamilton's comeback. So I composed my cool, tucked my hair back, and in my most unaffected tone, I asked, "Did anyone arrive at the Hamilton's?"

None of them spoke for a good thirty seconds. Taking in a mouthful of cereal floating in fresh milk, I heard Cad finally say, "Jace."

Cad's answer was plain and simple. But still, I felt a weight instantly dropped down on me. And before I could even give out an unconcerned reply, there came a sound from our front door. Knock. Knock. I stopped breathing, forcefully gulping the mouthful of cereal in my mouth and almost choking on it.

Now? I swallowed hard. Really?

"I'll go get it." Mom stood from her seat and walked toward the door.

The cereal box was small. But since I was facing the door—and it would be weird if I step out and disappear out of nowhere—I just hid myself behind it. How I wished that the manufacturers had made this one a little bit larger, so that it could fully hide me. But sadly, it was only big enough to hide a part of my face, particularly my chin.

Dad and Cad were both preoccupied with finding out who was that person who'd soon appear in our front door, and hadn't bothered throwing me a glance. Well, that was actually a relief, since my jaw was still wide open. I forced it to close, and then told myself to at least look decent and uncaring and unaffected.

Or just normal, if possible.

As my mother was opening the door, I held my breath. After two ticks of the clock, someone came in sight. I exhaled in utmost relief. It was only Susan, Jace's mother. By the time Cad looked back across the table and Dad glanced to his side, my face was back to usual. I tried smiling and it drove them crazy.

But who I was fooling?

I heard my mom and her good friend talk about Jace and something else. I only paid attention to his name, reflexively more aware of that one syllable name for years. Then after the door closed again, my mother walked back to the table. With a cheerful voice, she told us, "Jace is back. Their family invited us for dinner tonight."

"Di... nner?" I stuttered. I was still devising plans on how to avoid him, and we had been invited to dinner already.

"It was more like a party," she added.

"Party?" I blurted. Wow, a dinner party. It was just what I was looking for. Talk about the grand celebration, a lot of people hovering around, food oozing out from the tables, and a good old way to start a revenge.

"Just some gathering for Jace's comeback," Mom answered.

I plastered a smile on my face, and made them think that I was enthusiastic about it as they all were. And the morning with my family went on as usual, and I half-heartedly listen to what they all said. I also heard that my mom would help out with the preparations. I thought about asking if she had heard more about Jace, like for example, where he was planning to go to today. It would be easier to avoid him if I would just know his plans for the day.

"I'm going now," I told them, as I excused myself and kissed Mom and Dad goodbye before heading out. I tried landing a slap on the back of my brother's head. But luckily enough for him, he avoided it.

After that, I hurriedly scrammed outside, wanting to disappear from this place as soon as possible. But the moment that I was outside the door, I was suddenly reminded that Jace was already here. He was back.

The bother.

I took two steps back and caught my breath. Upon the solemn realization of the gravity the matter, I hurriedly burst back to our house. Without even bothering to explain my sudden coming back, I went past everyone and ran up to my room.

How could I ever forget that I needed to get past his house in order to go to the beach? I knew it was hot and sunny outside, but I desperately needed to conceal myself. And guess what would help me do that job? A full body camouflage? Nope, nothing like that. I'd go for something easier, more convenient.

From the upper drawer of my dresser, I grabbed an unused gray jacket. On an island as tropical as ours, having an opportunity to wear one was rare, like seeing a shooting star or a famous band doing a stop in our place for their world tour. Slipping it to myself, I felt beads of sweat forming on my forehead. And soon enough, they dripped down my face.

Ugh.

I looked at my reflection and concluded that I was too weird for my own good. Regardless, I pulled the hood up. And within seconds, my whole body started to be covered in sweat, as the jacket obscured any form of the wind from cooling down my body. It was now mind over matter. So disregarding that matter altogether, I walked out and put my sunglasses on so that I would be unrecognizable.

But, not for long.

"Reese!" Chad, Jace's Dad, spotted me. "Quite the get-up, huh? Is that what young people are up to nowadays?"

I nervously laughed. I badly needed a getaway plan. I was standing, with two feet held firmly on the ground, beside the minivan, which had carried Jace home a few minutes ago. And it was clear that they were unpacking his things. And any moment, like a matter of a split second, he could appear at their front door.

So I hurriedly made up some excuse, "I'm going to be late for my job. But it's nice seeing you, Chad... Mayor."

"Oh, Chad is fine. I'll let you off the hook then. But don't forget about the party this evening. I'm sure Jace is eager to see you again," Chad said. Giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder, he added, "You kids haven't seen each other for a good while."

I let out an anxious smile. I was certain that Jace was definitely excited to see me again. After all, he had been waiting for two years now. Should I be expecting some major catastrophe to happen?

"I'll be there," I replied, keeping a tight smile on my lips.

And then, the door of their house opened all of sudden. Startled, I looked at it and watched out for whoever would appear. Luckily, it was only Susan.

But you'd never know who might appear next. It could be him. So as soon as Chad had decided that our greetings for this morning were enough, I hurriedly turned back and walked away.

Too close. I almost saw him, and I wasn't ready for it yet.

With the threat that he would soon be doing something to get back at me, even though I didn't want to, images forcefully flashed in my head—cheers from the crowd that night, mocking voices, a scrutinized song they sung back, snickering laughter, and teardrops streaming down my cheeks.

I shivered.

Hoping that it wouldn't be the case this time around, I closed my eyes. But given the situation, this was a sure deal. Jace hating me and taking revenge was as good as saying that the whole town would soon dislike me.

Taking a deep breath, I cleared my head. I had to come up with something.

I arrived at the beach a little later. As I was changing to my lifeguard clothes, I kept on wondering if he would show up today. Shoving aside the idea, I convinced myself that he must be tired, so he wouldn't bother going here today. I still had several hours before the party. Or if I could just make a good excuse, maybe I wouldn't have to see him at all.

As I walked out of the bathroom, Sam, the white-haired caretaker of the beach, handed me my whistle. "Don't forget to blow your whistle."

"I will... thanks," I answered, clasping the whistle in hand. I had no say about Sam. He was the kindest man anyone could ever meet. It was just this job and the situation that I truly detested.

"Go along, Zone 2 is all yours," Sam told me and pointed to the beach.

"Zone 2 it is," I echoed back, as I walked out of the beach house. I tried convincing myself that today would be a good day. Pushing back the memories to where they should belong, down to the farthest corner of my mind, I tried to smile.

The beach was divided into three zones. I was given the middle one—the largest one. Climbing up the chair, I looked around and saw that there were only a few people on the beach today. Now that was a relief.

Occasionally reminding the children not to go too far and dozing off unintentionally every now and then, three hours had passed. I told myself that I would never stay up all night again, because it was affecting my job and I couldn't help my eyes from getting heavy with the lack of excitement going on. I knew that I was supposed to collect trash or something, but everyone seemed to be nice enough to know that a trashcan existed. No one got injured, either. So the clock ticked on as uneventful as it could possibly be.

As I was lazily playing with my talkie, I suddenly heard a child shout from below, "Look! Look! There's someone drowning."

I was wide-awake at the first mention of the word drowning. I hurriedly looked around and saw where the child was pointing. Someone's hand was waving for help several feet away from us. I knew from experience, that particular part of the ocean was quite deep.

Jumping out of my chair, I tucked a red float under my arm and ran toward the Jet Ski. I started the engine and kept my calm. Sure, I had rescued people before, even if I wasn't a lifeguard yet. But then, today was different. Their lives depended on me. If something bad would happen to them, I'd be the one at fault. I scolded myself for being so inattentive a while ago. Someone could get killed with me acting this way.

As I held on tightly to the acceleration handle, adrenaline pumped inside me. A thousand thoughts filled my head. As the cool water splashed on my face, I knew that what I needed to do was to stay composed.

Victims first.

I shook my head and focused on what I was supposed to do. As I was getting near the drowning person, I threw the float in his direction. Jumping into the water, I swam my way to him.

"Here, lie on to this," I instructed, as I pulled him up, with his back resting on the float.

There was no resistance on his part. Was he calmly drowning himself? I heard his heavy breaths, so surely, he wasn't dead. Deep inside, I was thankful and relieved. I treated it as me being lucky, because something worse could have happened. Without further delay, I pulled him back to the shore.

I assessed his condition, hoping that it wasn't bad. I leaned in closer to him, and noticed that his chest was as still as a rock. My eyes widened in absolute shock as color drifted off my face. Then it hit me—he was not moving.

Why?

I clearly heard that he was breathing well a while ago. And as if I was breathing for the man, heavy gasps started to get caught inside my throat instead.

"Are you all right?" I called out to him.

There was no response.

I put my shaking hand to his forehead and tapped his collarbone. Removing his dark brown hair that was dripping wet from his face, I asked again, "Are you okay?"

Still, there was no response.

I tilted his head and put my ears near his face, staring at his chest for some miraculous sign of breathing. There were none. So I pinched his nose and covered his mouth with mine, giving him air. And there, I finally saw his chest steadily rise and fall.

I held his face and tapped it again. "Are you all right?"

And then, a cunning smile crept at the corner of his lips. He slowly pulled himself up, and his deep blue eyes penetrated my being like a knife stabbed directly to my chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

As relief flooded over me, I realized who my faceless victim was. And the thing was, he was no other than Jace Hamilton himself.