The overwhelming mash up of floral scents consumes me. The hints of eucalyptus and rose petals with the sweetest hint of lavender spins its intoxicating aroma through my senses, swallowing me whole as I place the perfect amount of yellow sunflowers into a bouquet.

"Oh, sweet girl, that is just gorgeous," Mrs. O'Brien gushes, bringing her hands to her chest as she smiles at the arrangement I've thrown together. She's one of the shop's most frequent customers. Whether she's getting a new arrangement for her entry way or gifting a loved one an array of flowers, she's always here.

"Thank you," I acknowledge her compliment. "Do you want me to attach a ribbon or would you like it wrapped?"

Her smile brightens, that watery glisten across her eyes bringing a little shed of light to my heart. "A ribbon would be just wonderful."

I reach for the different shades of pinks, grabbing three of them and holding them up for her to see. Her granddaughter has her first dance recital today and I just so happen to know her favorite color is pink.

"Oh, yes. Addison will be so happy. You know, I've been coming here for years. Your mother was always so kind to me. She had such a grace about the way she wove these flowers together. I think you should know she'd be so proud to know you share that same gift."

I don't know why there's an empty ache behind those words. They're meant to fill me with reassurance and pride, and yet every time I'm reminded of how much I'd make my mom proud, I'm just left feeling hollow.

"Thank you," I say, offering the words everyone wants to hear when they think they've offered you a gift.

Maybe I should be thankful that I share something with my mom, that I can continue to live a dream she never had the chance to fully see through. But somehow, thankful isn't the feeling that's coursing through me, no matter how much I know that's the intent of her comment. Instead, there's a void of something I ache to know, something I wish to look up to instead of miss.

My eyes fall to the piano, the remnant sounds of a memory floating around me. What I would give to hear her play again, to watch her smile light up the whole entire room when she sang along with whatever tune she felt in the moment. I wish I would have held on better, I wish I could still feel the way she brought a room joy.

"Do you play too?"

I jump at her question, pulling my eyes from the distant memory to focus back on Mrs. O'Brien.

"Huh?" I question.

"The piano. I used to come here some days just to listen to her play."

"No," I answer, cutting her off and watching as her expression shifts. "I don't play. Here are your flowers."

Her smile softens as she reaches out a slow, shaky hand. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll see you next week."

I watch as she leaves, my eyes drifting to the tiny flower shop. There's so much of her still here, so much of my mom. From the tiny painted daisies along the center column to the pops of green and beige mixed along the frame of the window. She picked out every single thing in this shop. A fact that's harder to witness some days than others.

"Hey, Piper?" I yell toward the back. Her bright red curls come bouncing into view. "I'm going to take off."

I don't stick around to see the look on her face, the one that challenges the shield I've worked so damn hard to nail into place. Instead, I take off past the piano, afraid to give it another glance as I push through the front door.

My eyes meet the pavement in front of me, the faded blue of my Converse catching my attention. I didn't plan to run today. I didn't plan to need an escape but the way my breaths are tethered to my ribcage has me wanting nothing more than to fly down these streets and let every piece of frantic emotion shed off of me in heavy layers.

Taking one bulky breath of air, I take off, pushing the balls of my feet into the ground and lurching forward. I only make it one step before I'm slamming straight into a firm chest, a pair of arms wrapping around me and holding me steady.

"Woah," a voice says, holding me in place as I take a step back. Adam's deep brown eyes are looking back at me now, his hands still gripping my arms as I search for my breaths. "Mack. You came out of nowhere."

"Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Yeah," he says, a light chuckle falling from his lips before he takes a hand and runs it through his hair. I used to love to do that, to feel the thick strands course between my fingers. "I can see that. Were you at the flower shop?" he asks, lifting a hand and gesturing to the storefront behind me.

"Yeah. For a bit."

He nods, his eyes tracing a path from the shop back to me. He doesn't know the depths of meaning woven into the tiny hole in the wall behind me, he doesn't know how deep the roots run through the foundation, but he does know it's the one place I spend every single weekend. He knows it's where I go to be close to my mom.

"So, uhm, how have you been?" he asks.

"Good."

He's nodding, tucking one hand into his pocket. "Good," he repeats in an awkward acknowledgement. "Listen, I'm sorry about the other day. Cornering you like that, it was...it's just seeing you and Cam together, it's weird."

His comment is laced in a smile, his words clearly masked behind the intent of innocence, but it still has my brows pulling tightly together. And I'm pretty sure that subtle clench along his jaw is the reason my chest feels a bit tighter.

"Why is it weird?" I ask, full defense mode activated.

"I—"

"Adam!" A voice interrupts just as Brittney's hand slides into his arm. "There you are." She reaches up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

My eyes dart to the street. I wish watching them together didn't still feel like I just drank a gallon of sour milk. A part of me wonders if that feeling will ever go away.

"Oh, hey Mack," Brittney says, turning her attention my way and running a hand up and down his arm, pulling herself closer to his side. It takes everything in me not to let my eyes drop to that very spot, to crumble to pieces at their touch.

"Hey," I manage to say, though that jealous demon in my chest is rattling its cage. It's stealing every last morsel of breath, squeezing my chest and holding it hostage.

That ache begins to vibrate my legs, begging me to move, to run. The thought of sprinting away, of feeling the air sail across my skin, the echoing voices ricocheting across my skull silenced by the melodic sound of my feet hitting the pavement. I just want to escape, to run until my demons are lost in a cloud of dust.

"Mini Cooper!" A loud and all too familiar voice comes flying across the street, capturing all of our attention. "Come on, get in!"

Pulling up to the curb is Cam with a car full of some of his teammates. My eyes catch Cam's as he rests one arm out the window. He glances from me to Adam before nodding his head my way. "You coming?"

Looking back at Adam and Brittney I know there's no way I'm staying rooted on this curb watching the two of them getting all close and chummy.

"I gotta go," I tell them, pointing to the car full of baseball players. "You guys have fun."

"Alright!" Apollo yells, slapping the side of the car door before leaping out of the front seat and climbing into the back.

I take his spot, clicking my seatbelt into place and not looking back when we pull away from the curb. "Thanks for the ride home," I say, glancing toward Cam.

"Home?" Apollo shouts from the back. "We're headed to Triton's Palace. You're coming with us Mini Coop."

"Oh, I don't want to crash your outing."

"Are you kidding? Having a Cooper back in the mix just feels right."

"It feels something," Donovan jumps in.

"Her name's Mackenzie," Cam corrects with this weird layer of seriousness that doesn't exactly match the vibe of the car. "And you're coming with us."

I can feel the way my eyes stretch at his comment. "I'm sorry, I think I missed the part where you ask me if I want to come."

"Oh!" Apollo yells, bringing a fist up to his mouth while hitting Cam's seat with the other hand.

"Dang, Mack," Gio finally pipes in. "If I would have known how badass you were, I would have—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Cam cuts him off. That old man-grumpy mask he had a moment ago fades, replaced with a gentle green across his eyes that I've become accustomed to. It shines in my direction when he asks, "Do you want to come with us?"

"Hmm," I hum, sitting back in my seat to ponder my options. "Go home to get a jumpstart on some homework, or kick all of your asses in the arcade..."

"Excuse me?" Apollo springs forward. "Kick our asses? I don't think so."

"Sounds like it's settled," I say with what might be considered too much sass. "Let's go to Triton's Palace."

Cam's eyes slide over to mine, a knowing glint shining brightly behind them.

——

"Best two out of three," Apollo shouts over the noise of the arcade as he slams his air hockey puck down on the table.

"She's already beat you twice, man," Gio says behind a giant bite of Dippin Dots.

"Fine. Best three out of five."

"You sure you can handle another loss?" Cam questions, stepping up beside me and resting his arm over my shoulder. "My girl doesn't lose."

The evidence of his statement is clear in the six different games we've played since we got here. I've beaten Apollo in every single one, and I'm pretty sure his ego can't take another loss.

"I grew up the youngest of three brothers, Apollo. You know what it's like to be raised in a competitive home? Loser cleans the toilets, and I hated cleaning the toilets."

"Best three out of five," he repeats behind gritted teeth, leaning over the table with pure concentration.

I drop the puck, sending it flying across the table.

The game is close, the ongoing battle sending my heart into overdrive. The thrill of the competition brings a familiar light to my chest, a joyous warmth that I haven't felt in a long time.

When I send it flying past his hand, sealing my third win, he throws his handle onto the table, the poor loser in him only heightening the strength of my win.

Two arms wrap around my shoulders. Cam pulls me tight against his chest. I can feel the way my spine straightens at his forward touch. His natural ability to make this look real is something I'm still trying to emulate. Take a breath, Mackenzie.

"You good?" he whispers into my ear. I hate that he has to keep asking that. Why can't I just relax, play along, like we both agreed?

"Yeah," I whisper back, taking a breath before leaning into his touch.

"Good game, Mini Coop," Apollo huffs, taking two steps forward and offering a hand to shake. "You're tougher than you look."

"I'm going to assume that's meant to be a compliment?" I question, looking up at him.

He smiles, shaking his head before glancing at Cam over my shoulder. "I like this one."

"So, you've said," Cam says, squeezing me a tad tighter.

Donovan takes a step forward, shoveling in his last bite of cotton candy. "I agree. You should have joined our crew a lot sooner, Mackenzie. I can't help but wonder why you haven't."

"As a guy with an annoying as hell older brother," Gio says, stepping up, "maybe she didn't want to spend every moment tied to hers."

That's not exactly true, but the way Donovan's eyes seem to challenge my every move has me leaning into Gio's statement.

"It just would have been nice to know," Donovan says, his eyes turning to Cam and speaking a thousand words that I'm clearly not privy to. In fact, everyone's eyes seem to have fallen to Cam, an eerie silence falling over them all.

Okay, I'll bite... "Know what?" I question. But I'm suddenly wondering if I actually asked the question out loud because everyone is still staring at Cam, waiting for him to make the next move.

Donovan raises a brow, eyes still set on Cam, waiting.

"It's nothing," Cam finally speaks, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to his side. His grip is firmer than it has been, holding me tightly against him as if I would crumble to the ground without him.

I shift my gaze back to Donovan. He's watching me now, his eyes holding mine before he lets them drop, offering a surrendering nod. I don't know what unspoken words are left clinging to the space between us, but I know now isn't the time to try and figure it out.

"Well, I don't know about you all, but I'm in need of some food. Real food," Apollo says, slapping a hand to his stomach. "Let's get out of here."

He leads the way, walking past us, Gio and Donovan close behind. Cam turns to leave, following the group when I stay rooted in place, causing him to stop.

"What was that?" I ask, glancing over at his friends.

"What?"

"What? You're really going to act like nothing just happened?"

"Nothing did happen. Except maybe the fact that it looked like you might have actually had some fun today."

He's avoiding. I know he is. But it's not my piece of information to pry for. So, instead, I go with the change in subject. "I actually did. Thank you for inviting me. And for providing me with an excuse to escape the Adam and Brittney show."

He nods, letting a quiet fall between us. I'm about to head out to where his friends are when he speaks up again. "You remember when we used to come here every summer?" he asks, that knowingly nostalgic gleam dancing across his eyes. There's a warmth that floods my chest at his comment, a breath of reprieve at the familiarity of the memories.

"We spent hours here," I acknowledge. "Remember when Jare spent the entire day trying to get his name in every slot of the Pac Man leaderboard?"

His smile widens, and a bit of that fun he was just talking about bounces across the green of his eyes. "We were here until closing." He laughs at the memory. "It wasn't until he agreed that you could help until he finally got that number one slot filled."

"I thought we were never going to leave."

The smile that he holds is one I haven't seen in awhile, it's one of genuine joy as he gets lost in thinking about how innocent we all used to be. A time when we used to let the simple joys of arcade games fill our summers and distract us from the things that still bore a hole in our chests.

"This is a good look on you, you know," he says, his hand squeezing slightly in mine as we make our way through the front doors. His friends are just ahead. Gio flies onto Apollo's back and swings an arm around him in a playful chokehold. Their laughs echo across the parking lot.

"What look?"

His eyes shift to mine, searching my face before he pulls us to a stop. "Happy."

It's just one word. So simple in context and yet it has my heart leaping from my chest, fighting to pull its doors closed tight.

My response lurches out without hesitation, a cover of words I've always put out in front of me. "I've always been happy."

He's quiet for a moment, a slow pause before he's shaking it off, nodding with his famous smile. "I know you have, Kenze."

There's something in the way he says those words, an acknowledgement that I can't quite place my finger on. He doesn't give me a chance either because his grip tightens in mine as he turns, following the direction his friends just ran off to.