Tuesday, I wear my swimsuit to work under my clothes, planning on walking down to the beach during my break. No, I don't plan on snaking my way through the crowded side, I prefer the hidden side. There is a small, forgotten portion of beach on the other side of the large dock. It is a very shady place where I used to find a majority of my shells. Since the sun doesn't hit it very well, people have rejected it like some brace-face, chubby, pale, pimpled, four-eyed, thirteen-year-old girl. Nobody wants to go to the middle school dance with her-I speak from experience.

I wasn't the most beautiful thirteen-year-old girl. It wasn't until the next year that puberty actually struck me in a wonderful way.

Brandon is in, as usual, not Sally, though. Sally is on her way into the city for a few days, leaving Brandon with the keys and with the title of 'temporary manager'. I heard the two laugh about it yesterday. They have conversations that I don't feel brave enough to join into.

As I hang back by the register, I watch Brandon as he helps two girls-maybe two years younger than me-with their shirts. The blonde one chose the dolphin transfer and the black-haired one chose the Hawaiian flowers. When Brandon is finished pressing the shirts, the pair walks over to me while glancing back at him. "Is that all?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's all," the blonde mutters, placing her coffee down on the counter.

"Oh, look, keychains," the black-haired one points out before digging her fingers through. "Is there a flip-flop one?"

I lean forward, my torso pressing against the counter, stretching myself all to find the flip-flop that's buried at the bottom. I've seen it when picking up the clear container to clean the counter. The little sign promises a variety of starfish, surfboards, flowers, but of course, she wants the rare flip-flop. No one ever wants the surfboards. Only a preteen boy made his mother buy one so he could add it to the collection of keychains on his school backpack. And before I notice, the blonde elbows her coffee when turning and the not-so-fastened lid pops off. Hot coffee pours across the counter and seeps into my shirt, burning my skin.

The thing was full, probably full because I was still too hot to drink. Damn it.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I blonde cries, triggering Brandon to come over. He steps behind the counter, moving in my place so I can steal a shirt from the back and take the coffee-drenched one off. The girls look pleased to be dealing with him, though.

I shut the back door behind me and squat down at one of the open boxes of black shirts. I grab an extra small men's shirt and toss it onto the table, ready to take off my shirt when I notice a small box beside the transfer shelf. I take it and open it, finding a new transfer design inside. It's a sunset, but not like my signature sunset. This one is more red than orange, and it doesn't melt down into anything. I take the stack out anyway and place them into an empty cubby before discarding the box onto the small pile of boxes that need to be taken out to the recycling bin outside.

After that is done, I yank off my shirt and drop it to the table, taking the fresh black one. The new shirts always feel stiff. All of my shirts feel worn in.

I turn around swiftly when the backdoor abruptly opens. My eyes widen at the sight of Brandon. His eyes fall down before returning to my own. "I'm sorry I thought-"

"It's a swimsuit," I say before he can completely back out of the doorway. Suddenly the air around me feels cooler against my bare skin as if he's doing it himself. A foreign breed of silence falls between us as he stands in the door frame and as I stand, making no move to put the clean shirt on. He looks at me as if he's waiting for it to happen. I can hear his thoughts: put on the shirt, Emma. Put on the damn shirt. But I don't want to-this is the closest I've been to him since the uncomfortable party Friday.

A single breath fans past my lips, and I think Brandon sees the begging in my eyes. He slowly moves towards me, all of his movements slow, giving me time to freak out and run away. But I don't, I stay put, I stay because no matter how hard to try to convince myself I don't like him, I do. I really do. Just seeing him gives me purpose in a way that makes waking up easier. A day without him feels like a waste. An hour without him feels like five. Kiss me, Brandon, I dare with my eyes, even though my body is so unsure. He comes so close to the point where I can lean in a little myself. His hand brushes past my cheek, weaving into my hair, his thumb pressing against the side of my face. The gentleness of it all is enough to trick me.

His lips reach mine in a soft, testing kiss. My heart is beating unbearably fast, so fast that it hurts. I kiss him back. It is sweet enough to be the sealing kiss at a wedding, passionate enough too. We part for a few seconds-enough time for him to see the approval on my face, and for him to back me up against the wall. When I touch the wall, it all changes.

His lips reach mine again, harder though. He's been waiting for this, I can feel it. I can feel it as his hand squeezes my hip bone and slides up to the small of my back, bringing me against him. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled down my shorts and lifted me up and took me right against this wall, but I don't want to think about that because I shouldn't be doing this, any of it. I shouldn't be kissing him. I shouldn't be imagining him taking me against this wall. But I wasn't thinking. I'm not thinking. If I was, I would have stopped this minutes ago.

Our kiss continues as I find myself not wanting it to ever end. The feeling, the taste, his smell, the feel of his shoulders, all of it seems personally made to brainwash me. I let out a breath as he presses against me harder.

"Hello?"

God, please no. Please don't do this to me. Don't bring me back.

"Hello, is there anyone here?"

Brandon pulls away and takes his hands with his lips as he leaves the back room. "Hi," I hear him greet the customer, "sorry about that. Is there anything I can help you with?"

I roll onto my front and stare into the wall, my hands pushing against it, angry with it. Why did I do that? How did that even happen? I give the wall a good smack before rushing the clean shirt on.

What happened to my wall? What happened to my intricate and indestructible defense mechanisms? I prepared for months. I looked in the mirror and trained my mind to not let boys like him trap me. One kiss. I crumble after one kiss? What kind of manipulative genius is Brandon? Apparently one far too strong for my armor. I can't stay here and wait for him to trick me again. I have to leave. Abandoning my stained shirt on the table in the back, I quickly flee the room and head straight for my bag behind the counter. Brandon is in the way, checking out the customer, so I slide past him and snatch it up.

"Emma-" He calls after me, not able to follow.

"I'm going on break," I mutter and rush out the doors, feeling the pressure in my chest release once his eyes can no longer watch me. I hold my bag close as I jog across the calm street, knowing the only place I'll be safe is the small, hidden portion of the beach. If I could go home, I would, but I'll have to go back to work in thirty minutes. Luckily, Brandon will go on his break when I get back. It will give me time to mend my defenses.

I pass the dock and climb over the wall, making my way down the large rocks that pile up against it. No one sees me as I descend into my lair. The minuscule beach is protected by the rock wall from behind and on the left, leaving the right to be blocked by the tall thick pillars holding up the dock. And in front of me is the vast Pacific ocean whose waves lure me in and settle my racing heart. "Dear God," I murmur, nearly pulling out my hair. "What the hell, Emma?"

If anyone is watching from above, they must think I'm a lunatic. A crazy girl talking to herself while pacing by the water. I drop my bag in the sand before I drop myself. The water crawls up to my feet and tickles my toes, soothing me like a mother soothes her baby. I bury my hands in the sand and wiggle my fingers around, needing to hold onto the world. I find a shell beside me. It's white and broken and ridged. I rub it between my fingers, dusting off the damp sand only for it to stick to my skin. Being down here reminds of how I watch Brandon while he's on his break. But he's not on the shady, abandoned side of the beach, he's on the bright and populated side, the side with volleyball nets and dried bonfires from the previous night. He's with his friends, and here I am, with myself.

How could I let him kiss me? How come I just stood there and let it happen, hell, I wanted it to happen and he saw that. How can I blame him when I gave off such hints? Nothing says 'kiss me' more than refusing to put clothes back on. This is my fault. I could have screamed and scrambled when he accidentally opened the door.

I should quit my job. Obviously, I can't work with him if it makes me feel this way.

After Milo told me to leave, I did. Lauren and I walked down the street, neither of us saying a thing. The sadness I felt was infecting me, I felt the wave rush all the way to the tips of my fingers. It was a paralyzing depression that came on suddenly and ruthlessly.

Lauren tried to pick me up, offering to buy me lunch, for us to go to the beach or the boulders, even mentioning a party that Kaden and his brother Austin were having that night. At the time I said no and left her to lay in bed, but by night, all I wanted to do was forget about him. My sadness was quickly replaced with anger, and I was hungry for revenge. The summer was coming to an end and I felt like I had nothing to lose. The idea of returning back home and back to school only added to the fire burning inside of me. I wanted Milo to feel as hopeless as I did. How dare he break my heart after I had glued the pieces back together?

I pulled on a dress and showed up at the brother's house, not telling anyone that I was coming. Those who knew me expected me to stay boarded up at home, locked in by heartbreak, and were surprised to see me walk into the house. Lauren hurried to me and asked if I was okay. "Is Milo here?" I asked, thinking he would be because the guy never passed up a chance at free alcohol.

"No, he's not, so you should stay."

"Where is he? Do you know?"

Lauren was confused. After one hour I was out of my mind, having drunk everything everyone mindlessly handed to me, even swallowing a small pill that a girl gave me in secret from a small tint container she kept in her pocket. She had heard of my heartbreak and told me that it would help. I thought I was going to die. That's the problem with a young girl in love. If you're like me, then your life feels like the credits are rolling. It feels like the end even though deep down you know it's not.

Kaden and I were acquaintances. He knew of me, and I knew of him, but he always had his eye on me. He was the only one to see me slip out the back gate and stumble into the street. He followed and asked where I was going as I maneuvered my way down the sidewalk. "To Milo," I mumbled, no longer needing the party atmosphere to comfort me.

"You don't want to do that," he said, coming up beside me. "Come on, let's go back."

"I don't wanna go back."

"Then I'll take you home."

He walked me home. At the time I didn't care how he knew where I lived, I just wandered emptily along the road. The night sky seemed to close in on me, but I didn't care. Kaden talked about random things which gave me something to focus on besides my wounded heart, and I appreciated that. I thanked him when we arrived, and he smiled and waited until I was inside before walking off. I don't remember anything else, and many details in between were never recovered, but I do remember waking up the next morning with dried tears on my cheeks and a harsh aching in my head. I avoided my family and sat by the water in the backyard for most of the day, picking up shards of shells and pressing the ends into my fingertips.

Now, as my break comes to an end, I make my way back up the rock wall and down the street, preparing to face Brandon. With the broken shell still in my hand, I calm myself before walking into the shop.