Driftwood Memories
The joint had burned down to a roach, and Blair was idly poking at the sand with a stick, tracing nonsense patterns. Ashur stretched out on their back, letting the warmth of the sun settle into their bones.
“You remember that one winter,” Blair said, voice half-lazy, “when we tried to walk to that party at Jason’s house, but the snow was so deep we had to turn back?”
Ashur let out a groan. “God. Yeah. We got, what, two blocks before you nearly lost a boot?”
Blair huffed. “It wasn’t my fault! That snow was quicksand. And you were the one who convinced me it’d be fun.”
Ashur smirked. “Hey, it was almost worth it. We still got wasted, just, y’know… in my parents’ basement instead.”
Blair chuckled. “Classic us. What was that shitty vodka we used to drink?”
Ashur scrunched their nose. “McCormick’s.”
Blair gagged dramatically. “Jesus. I can taste it.”
They both laughed, the sound carried away by the wind, mixing with the distant hum of the waves.
After a moment, Blair sighed. “Man, I miss Aliyah.”
Ashur nodded, the familiar pang of nostalgia settling in their chest. “Yeah. She’s gonna be here in three months, though. You think she’ll recognize us, or are we too washed up now?”
Blair smirked. “She better. We survived Minnesota together. That’s a trauma bond.”
Ashur laughed. “True.”
Aliyah had been the glue of their trio back home—the one who made sure they didn’t do anything too stupid, but also the first to hype them up when they did. She had stayed behind when Ashur moved west and Blair crossed the border to Vancouver, but they never lost touch.
“She’s gonna roast the hell out of us for turning into moody coastal weirdos,” Blair mused.
“Oh, for sure,” Ashur agreed. “She’s gonna take one look at my goth ass and your grunge goblin aesthetic and be like, damn, y’all leaned into it.”
Blair snickered. “She’s not wrong.”
They sat in companionable silence, watching the waves eat away at the shore, people coming and going around them.
Eventually, the sun dipped lower, casting golden streaks across the water, and Ashur stretched with a groan. “Alright, I need food before I start regretting my life choices.”
Blair stood, brushing sand off their jeans. “Same. Let’s get outta here before those frisbee bros start multiplying.”
Ashur snorted, shaking their head. They walked back to the Bronco together, the smell of salt and weed clinging to their clothes.