Nine Years Ago
Summer Break

Summer break hit us like freedom.

The kind where days blurred together and time stopped meaning anything, where the only schedule that mattered was sunrise, swim, repeat. We'd claimed a spot on the beach early—towels thrown in a messy circle, bags half-open, snacks already full of sand.

Maya was the only one pretending this was a "relaxing" beach day. She lay on her towel with a book balanced on her stomach, sunglasses on, completely still.

Josh was crouched a few feet away, aggressively committed to building what he kept calling "a structurally sound sandcastle."

"This one has turrets," he announced. "Which means it's better than all previous castles."

"No one asked," Henry said, arm slung lazily around Sophia as she leaned into him.

I was half-listening, half-watching Luke throw a pebble into the water and then immediately regret the way it skipped wrong.

Then Maya gasped.

She slammed her book shut so fast it sent sand flying.

Josh yelped. "Jesus—warning?"

Maya sat up, pulling her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. "Okay. Important question."

Henry sighed. "We don't know the answer, but you're going to tell us anyway."

"Correct," Maya said, pleased. "Do you know who is the topic of the summer?"

Luke frowned. "Weather patterns?"

Josh snorted. "Please tell me it's a man."

"It is a man," Maya said dramatically. "And apparently he's... kind of hot. Like—unfairly hot."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"So," Maya continued, warming to it, "he goes to every party. And at every party he takes at least one girl. Sometimes two."

Luke blinked. "What do you mean takes?"

Maya made a vague hand motion. "Kisses. Hooks up. Whatever word makes you less uncomfortable."

Josh grinned. "Living the dream."

Henry laughed—and immediately got elbowed by Sophia.

"Anyway," Maya said, rolling her eyes, "everyone hates him. Which I think makes people want him more."

Luke squinted at her. "Why? Does he have money or something?"

Maya stared at him. "You've been hanging out with Maddie too much."

"What did I do?" I asked.

She pointed at Luke. "That. He answers like you now."

Luke smiled faintly. "Thank you."

Sophia cut in gently. "Do we know him?"

Maya shrugged, pushing her sunglasses back up. "No idea what his name is. I've just seen a picture."

Josh gaped. "How do you know what he looks like but not his name?"

"Because a girl in my lit class showed me a photo and then immediately started crying," Maya said. "Girls are complicated."

Josh nodded solemnly. "That checks out."

"I think I've heard something," Sophia added. "Just... no name."

"So," I said slowly, "we're talking about a guy who's famous for being chaotic and attractive."

"Yes," Maya said. "Tragically."

Josh groaned. "I need to know who this man is."

She waved him off. "Relax. It's not like he's going to magically appear."

She stopped mid-sentence.

Pulled her sunglasses down again.

Sat up straighter.

"Oh my God."

We all looked at her.

"What?" I asked.

She pointed subtly toward the shoreline. "If magic exists—this is it. That's him."

We followed her gaze.

A group of guys were heading toward the water. Laughing. Loud. Sunburned confidence. One of them—black swim shorts, wet hair, easy smile.

Josh snapped his fingers. "That face. I know that face."

I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah... same."

Luke tilted his head. "Dylan."

I blinked. "Not Derek?"

Luke gave me a look. "Dylan."

Maya gasped. "YES. That's it. Dylan."

Luke groaned. "I knew I didn't like him for a reason."

Josh frowned. "You know him?"

Luke snorted. "Calling him a king would be generous. He's more like... a court jester."

"That's rude," I said.

Luke shrugged. "Accurate."

Maya turned to me slowly. "Explain."

"We met him once," I said. "At Jack's party."

Maya frowned. "I don't remember Jack's party."

Josh snickered. "You didn't remember leaving Jack's party either."

"Exactly," she said. "So?"

Luke muttered, "Unfortunately, he inserted himself into our snooker game."

I smiled despite myself. "That's one way to put it."

Out by the water, Dylan laughed at something, tossing a ball back to one of his friends.

Maya watched him thoughtfully. "Huh."

Luke crossed his arms. "Don't."

She smirked. "What?"

"I see that look," he said. "Don't."

I leaned back on my elbows, smiling at the sky.

"I'm just saying," Maya replied innocently, still watching Dylan, "the universe has a very twisted sense of humor."

Luke scoffed. "The universe needs a new hobby."

Josh shielded his eyes with his hand. "I still can't believe that guy is the myth. He looks... normal."

"Normal?" Maya repeated. "Josh, he has jawline confidence."

Henry laughed. "That's not a thing."

"It absolutely is," she said. "And he's abusing it."

Sophia leaned closer to Henry. "Please tell me we're not about to revolve our entire summer around some random guy."

"Too late," I said. "We're already talking about him."

As if summoned by the attention, Dylan glanced up the beach—and his eyes landed on us.

Specifically on me.

I felt it instantly. That weird prickle at the back of my neck, like someone had said my name without sound.

He squinted slightly, then smiled. Lifted his chin in recognition.

Luke noticed.

Of course he did.

He straightened, jaw tightening just a fraction. "He's looking over here."

Josh grinned. "Maybe he recognizes you. You are famous."

"Not like that," I said, but my cheeks were already warm.

Maya elbowed me. "Oh my God. He's coming over."

"I don't think—" I started.

Too late.

Dylan jogged up the sand, easy and confident like he belonged anywhere he stepped. He stopped a few feet from us, dripping seawater and audacity.

"Well," he said, smiling, "didn't expect to see you here."

Luke didn't even try to hide his glare.

"Beach is public," Luke said flatly.

Dylan glanced at him, amused. "Relax, man. I'm not stealing your spot."

Josh muttered, "Debatable."

Dylan's attention slid back to me. "Didn't think snooker champions did beach days."

I smirked. "Didn't think party crashers did daylight."

Maya's eyes lit up. "Oh, I like this."

Sophia whispered, "This feels like the start of something messy."

Luke crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

Dylan raised both hands. "Easy. Just saying hi." Then, to me, "You play volleyball?"

"No," I said.

"Shame," he replied easily. "We're short a player."

Luke answered for me. "She's busy."

I looked at him. "I am?"

"Yes," he said. "Very."

Dylan laughed. "Guess I'll let you get back to... sand discussions."

He started backing away, then paused. "Party tonight. Bonfire. You should come."

Maya practically vibrated. "We will."

Luke and I spoke at the same time.

"No."
"Maybe."

We stared at each other.

Dylan grinned wider. "Sounds like a solid maybe."

He jogged back toward the water, leaving behind sand, salt—and tension.

Maya clapped once. "Well. That happened."

Luke exhaled sharply. "You're not going."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't get to decide that."

"I'm just saying—"

"You're always just saying," I cut in. "And somehow it's always about what I shouldn't do."

Josh leaned back, hands behind his head. "I love summer."

Henry laughed. "We're going to regret this."

Sophia nodded. "Deeply."

Luke looked at me again, quieter now. "Just... be careful."

Something in his voice softened me, just a little.

"I always am," I said.

He didn't look convinced.

Out by the water, Dylan dove under a wave and disappeared—only to resurface laughing.

The universe, I decided, was definitely bored.

And summer had only just begun.

———

By the time the sun started sinking, the decision had already been made—whether Luke liked it or not.

Bonfire party. Beach. Night.

Josh was the first to say it out loud. "Okay, so we're obviously going."

Henry hesitated. "Are we?"

Maya was already standing, shaking sand off her towel. "Yes. We are. I didn't spend an hour pretending to read for nothing."

Sophia laughed softly. "I'll come if Henry does."

Henry sighed, doomed. "I'm coming."

All eyes turned to Luke.

He was still staring at the ocean, jaw tight, like he might personally argue with the tide.

"Well?" I asked.

He looked at me. "You want to go?"

I shrugged. "Kind of."

That was all it took.

"Fine," he said. "But if it's terrible, I'm saying I told you so."

Josh whooped. "That's the spirit."

⸻

The beach at night felt like a completely different world.

The bonfire burned high, flames snapping and cracking, sparks floating into the dark sky like tiny stars. Music came from a battered speaker someone had dragged out—too loud, distorted, perfect. People were everywhere: sitting in circles, dancing barefoot in the sand, passing bottles, laughing like summer would never end.

Maya practically glowed. "See? Worth it."

Josh had already disappeared into a crowd.

Henry and Sophia stayed close together, fingers brushing like they were afraid the night might steal one of them away.

And Luke—Luke stayed close to me.

Not touching. Not obvious. Just... there.

We grabbed drinks—something fruity and suspicious—and sat near the fire. The heat warmed my legs, the sand still cool underneath.

"This is actually not awful," Luke admitted.

I smiled. "High praise."

He smirked back. "Don't get used to it."

Music shifted. Faster now. People started dancing.

Maya grabbed my wrist. "Come on."

"I don't dance," I protested.

She laughed. "You absolutely do."

Before I could argue, she dragged me toward the crowd. I glanced back once.

Luke was watching.

Not annoyed. Not angry.

Just... watching.

And that did something strange to my chest.

I danced anyway—barefoot, messy, laughing too loud. Maya spun me around, Josh reappeared long enough to shout nonsense in my ear, then vanished again.

And then—

Dylan.

He appeared like he owned the night, hair damp, shirt loose, smile easy.

"You came," he said, stepping closer so I could hear him over the music.

"I said maybe," I replied.

"That's basically yes."

He offered his hand. "Dance?"

I hesitated—just a second.

Then I took it.

We moved with the crowd, nothing serious, nothing intimate. Just dancing. Laughing. Easy.

Still—I felt it.

Luke's presence.

I didn't even have to look to know he was watching.

When I finally did glance over, he was standing near the fire, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The flames lit his face in flickers—gold, shadow, gold again.

Our eyes met.

Something passed between us. I couldn't name it then. Couldn't understand it.

Dylan leaned closer. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said quickly. "Just—hot."

He smiled. "Fire'll do that."

Across the beach, Luke turned away.

And for some reason, that bothered me more than it should have.

At first, I tried to ignore it.

I really did.

I danced. I laughed too loud. I let Dylan spin me once more, let the music pound through my chest. I told myself Luke was just being Luke—quiet, distant, weird in his own contained way.

But then I saw him with another beer.

And another.

And another.

Luke didn't drink like that. He hated losing control. Hated not knowing exactly where his limits were. Seeing him like this—laughing too sharp, shoulders tense, eyes too dark—made something twist uncomfortably in my stomach.

This wasn't him.

And then—of course—Victoria appeared.

Like she always did. Perfect timing. Perfect posture. Hair catching the firelight just right, like the universe had styled her personally.

I watched her lean in, hand brushing his arm.

Something snapped.

Not jealousy, I told myself immediately. Definitely not that.

Just... irritation. Concern. Annoyance. Something.

"You know what," I muttered to no one. "Screw this."

I dropped my cup in the sand and walked straight toward him.

Except I didn't get there in time.

By the time I reached the edge of the bonfire's glow, Luke was already moving away. Fast. Purposeful. Victoria trailing behind him like she'd won something.

They disappeared toward the darker stretch of beach.

Toward the boats.

My chest tightened.

Oh no. Absolutely not.

I followed.

The further I went, the quieter it got. Music faded into a distant thump, replaced by the sound of waves and my own footsteps crunching against sand. The bonfire's light disappeared behind me, leaving only scattered lanterns and pale shapes of white tents set up along the beach.

I slowed, suddenly unsure.

What if I really did catch them kissing?

Why did that thought feel like a punch?

I shook my head and kept walking.

One tent. Empty.

Two. Laughter inside—not them.

Three.

And then the last one.

A white tent near the edge of the beach, lantern glowing faintly inside.

Luke stood there.

Alone.

He turned when he heard me.

"What are you doing here?" we asked at the same time.

I crossed my arms, breath uneven. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

He frowned. "I just needed air."

"So did Victoria," I said before I could stop myself.

His jaw tightened. "She left."

"Oh." I hated how relieved that sounded. I covered it with sarcasm. "Great. Glad you survived."

He looked at me for a long second. "Why did you leave Dylan?"

I blinked. "Why do you care?"

"Because," he shot back, "you looked like you were having fun."

"I was," I said. Then quieter, "Until you weren't."

That made him still.

I stepped into the tent, the thin fabric fluttering closed behind me. The space felt too small instantly—too warm, too quiet.

"You're acting weird," I said. "Drinking. Disappearing. Letting Victoria cling to you like—"

"Like what?" he cut in.

"Like she belongs there," I snapped. "And she doesn't."

Silence.

Heavy. Loaded.

His voice dropped. "You followed me."

I lifted my chin. "You walked away."

We stood too close now. Close enough that I could smell salt and beer on him. Close enough that the tension felt alive, buzzing between us.

"You don't get to be mad," he said quietly.

"I'm not mad," I lied.

He laughed once, low and humorless. "You're terrible at lying."

"And you're terrible at explaining yourself," I fired back. "Why are you doing this? Why are you here acting like someone else?"

His eyes flicked to my mouth. Then back up.

"Why do you care?" he asked.

"I don't," I said immediately.

Another lie.

We both knew it.

The air shifted. Something dangerous settled between us—unspoken, undeniable. My heart was pounding too fast. His breath hitched just slightly.

We leaned in without deciding to.

It was instinct. Gravity. Years of something unnamed pulling tight all at once.

My eyes closed.

His did too.

Our mouths were inches apart—

"SKINNY DIPPING!"

A shout cut through the night.

I jolted back like I'd been burned.

Luke swore under his breath.

We both turned toward the sound—someone laughing loudly, footsteps running past the tent, the party crashing back into existence like nothing had almost happened.

Almost.

I swallowed hard, heart racing, cheeks burning.

"I am sorry" He said frowning his eyebrow "I didn't meant it like that."

"Yeah," I said too quickly, backing toward the opening. "This—this— was stupid."

Luke didn't stop me.

He just stood there, fists clenched, watching me leave like he was just as shaken as I was.

And that scared me more than the almost-kiss ever could.