He stands, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Stand still.”

“Okay?”

I sign. “Don’t move.” Then I shove my phone in my pocket, link my fingers with his and I wait.

Right on cue, the train’s whistle blows, echoing through the night. A moment later, the all-too-familiar sound of the birds cawing fills my ears. Josh tries to move, but I grasp his hands tighter and mouth, “Don’t move.”

He nods, but there’s a fear in his eyes that has my lips twitching with a smile.

The birds grow louder, now mixing with the sound of their flapping wings.

I close my eyes, waiting for the moment.

The air changes, rushes of wind prickling my skin, and I know they’re close.

“Becca…” Josh says. “They’re coming right for—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish before the birds swarm, flying between us and around us, their wings brushing against our bodies but never right at us. It lasts only a few seconds, five at most, and then it’s silent again.

Like a true athlete, Josh soaks in the adrenaline and stands unmoving, waiting for it to pass. “Holy shit!” he breathes out. “What the fuck was that?”

Grinning, I pull out my phone again. “Cool, huh?”

He shakes his head while sucking in a huge breath. “You do this a lot, I take it?”

I nod.

“Why?” he asks.

Cordy says for me, “Because it teaches me that if I stand tall, brave, and unwilling to back down, then the chaos, the destruction—it can’t attack me. It can’t touch me. It makes me feel invincible.”

He laughs a disbelieving laugh and pulls me into his arms. “You’re some kind of phenomenal, Becca Owens,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head.

I squeeze my hands between us so I can type, “This is my second favorite place in the entire world.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s your first?”

“Right here. In your arms.”

*     *     *

We sit and watch the sunrise from the rooftop, his legs on either side of mine, his arms around me, cocooning me, unknowingly protecting me.

“You know what the dictionary definition of coast is, Becs?”

I shake my head and face him.

“It’s where the land meets the sea.” He presses his lips to my temple. “What if you were the land, and I were the sea? What if the coast we’d been searching for was us all along… living and existing together…?”

We count down the minutes until we have to live and exist apart again. But something’s changed between us, something that confirms my hope. That regardless of how far apart we might be physically, there’s something that holds us together, keeps us close, keeps us us.

All three of us.

*     *     *

The car ride home is spent in silence, our embrace the only thing we need to communicate how we feel. No goodbyes. No see-you-laters. No unspoken promises.

“You know,” I sign, turning to him when I reach my front door. “If you wanted to shout it from the rooftops—about you and me—I might not be as mad as you think.”

He smiles at that, kisses me once, and makes his way down the porch steps and into the waiting car.

I walk through the house as quietly as possible, even though I’m sure Dad’s awake, waiting for me to arrive safely. I crawl into bed, letting the exhaustion take over me. I’m almost asleep when my phone chimes in my back pocket, alerting me of a notification. A few seconds later, the alerts are constant, vibrating against my butt. I pull out my phone and with one eye open, I tap on the screen. It’s an Instagram post from Josh that he’d tagged me in—a picture he’d taken the first night he spent here. I’m lying in the crook of his arm, half my face hidden in his chest. I’d been shy, I remember, because I’d just walked out of the bathroom naked after making love for the second time. Even though the blanket’s pulled up to my chin, you can tell that we’re naked, and going by the flush in our cheeks, it’s obvious what we’d been doing. I should be mad that of all the pictures he’d taken of us, he’d chosen this one. But I’m not. I’m almost proud, and that pride turns to pure joy when I read the caption beneath it:

My Heart.

My World.

My Coast.

My Becca.

*     *     *

Josh: Two things. And please don’t be mad.

Becca: About that Instagram post? I’m not mad.