Chapter 1: The Boy on the Cliff
Ellie Harper perched on the edge of Crescent Cliff, her sneakers dangling over the rocky drop where the ocean churned below. The air was thick with salt and the faint tang of seaweed, carried on a breeze that tugged at her wavy brown hair. Her sketchbook lay open on her lap, its pages filled with half-finished drawings of stars, waves, and the horizon that stretched endlessly before her. This was her sanctuary, the one place in Crescent Bay where she could breathe without the weight of her family’s expectations pressing down. Every evening since summer break began, she’d climbed the winding path to this spot, chasing the fleeting moments when the sky blazed with color and the first stars blinked into view.
Today, the sunset was a riot of orange and pink, painting the clouds in hues that made her fingers itch to draw. She was sketching the curve of a wave when a shadow shifted at the corner of her vision. Her pencil paused. She wasn’t alone.
At the far end of the cliff, a boy stood with his back to her, his silhouette sharp against the fading light. He wore a faded green jacket, one sleeve rolled up, and a backpack hung loosely over one shoulder. His dark hair was a mess, tousled by the wind, and he stood with a kind of restless energy, like he might vanish if the breeze blew too hard. Ellie squinted, trying to place him. Crescent Bay was a speck of a town, the kind where everyone knew your name and your business. She’d grown up serving pancakes to the same faces at her family’s diner, but this guy? He was a stranger.
She flipped her sketchbook shut, suddenly self-conscious about her smudged pencil lines and messy notes about constellations. The boy turned, as if sensing her movement, and their eyes met. His were a startling gray, like the storm clouds that rolled in before a squall, and they held a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe, or a challenge. Then he smiled, a lopsided grin that tilted the world just a little. Ellie’s stomach did an annoying flip, and she cursed herself for it. She wasn’t the kind of girl who got flustered over a smile. At least, she hadn’t been until now.
“You always spy on strangers, or am I just lucky?” he called, his voice carrying over the wind with a teasing edge.
Ellie’s cheeks burned, but she stood, brushing sand off her jeans. “I wasn’t spying. You’re on my cliff.”
He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. His sneakers crunched on the gravel, and she noticed the frayed laces, the kind that had seen too many miles. “Your cliff, huh? Didn’t see your name on it.”
She crossed her arms, hugging her sketchbook to her chest. “Ellie Harper. It’s basically mine. Been coming here since I was ten. Who are you?”
“Nate Sullivan,” he said, stopping a few feet away. He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet. “Just passing through.”
“Passing through Crescent Bay?” She snorted, the sound louder than she meant. “Nobody passes through here. It’s a dead end. Literally and figuratively.”
He shrugged, his grin fading into something quieter, almost guarded. “Maybe I like dead ends.”
There was a story behind those words, one Ellie couldn’t read yet. She glanced at her sketchbook, then back at him, trying to decide if he was trouble or just lost. He didn’t look like the usual summer tourists, with their loud shirts and sunburns. There was something raw about him, like he’d seen too much and was trying to outrun it. She shifted her weight, the cliff’s edge feeling closer than it had a minute ago.
“You’re not gonna, like, jump or something, are you?” she asked, half-joking, but her voice betrayed a flicker of worry.
Nate laughed, a low, warm sound that made the cliff feel smaller, cozier. “Nah. Just needed some air. You draw?” He nodded at her sketchbook, his eyes lingering on the worn cover.
“Sometimes,” she said, tucking it tighter against her. “It’s nothing special. Just… stuff.”
“Stuff’s always special if it’s yours.” He said it so easily, like it was a fact, and she didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she looked away, her gaze catching on the stars now dotting the sky. The sunset had given way to twilight, and the air was cooler, sharper.
“You do anything?” she asked, tossing the question back to him. “Besides trespassing on cliffs?”
“Survive,” he said, and though he smiled, his eyes didn’t. They were guarded again, like shutters slamming shut. He shifted his backpack, the movement restless, and she wondered what he was carrying—clothes, books, secrets?
The silence stretched, not awkward but heavy, like they were both waiting for the other to break it. Ellie pointed at the sky, desperate to fill the space. “That’s Orion. See the three stars in a row? His belt. Easiest one to spot.”
Nate followed her gaze, his posture easing. “You know the stars?”
“Enough to get by.” She traced the constellation with her finger, her voice softening. “My dad taught me when I was little. Said they’re like stories, written up there for anyone who bothers to look.”
He tilted his head back, his throat catching the starlight. “Stories, huh? What’s Orion’s?”
She hesitated, surprised he cared. “He’s a hunter. Chased the Pleiades—seven sisters—across the sky. Kind of a jerk, honestly. Got himself killed and thrown up there as a warning.”
Nate chuckled. “Guess I’ll stick to the belt part. Less drama.”
“Good call.” She smiled, and for a moment, the cliff was just them, the stars, and the distant crash of waves. She wanted to ask more—where he was from, why he was here—but something in his stance, tense like a deer ready to bolt, stopped her. Instead, she asked, “You sticking around long enough to learn the rest?”
He looked at her then, really looked, his gray eyes searching hers. The wind pushed a strand of hair across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear, feeling exposed. “Maybe,” he said finally, his voice low. “If the view’s worth it.”
Her heart thudded, and she turned back to the stars, afraid he’d see the flush creeping up her neck. “It’s not bad,” she managed, her voice steadier than she felt.
Nate didn’t say anything, but he stayed, his shoulder inches from hers, until the sky was fully dark and the stars were all they had.
