Miley: [She slowly opens the door to the church and walks inside. If there is one thing she can rely on, it's faith. It was a miracle that God allowed her to live after the car accident, and a phenomenon that the physical effects on her body were only a few cuts and bruises; mental damage, however, resulted in complete amnesia. She can no longer remember a general nor significant memory. She has to start fresh, with a clean slate – which, in some ways, is always good. She can't help but notice the dastardly glares flashed at her by fellow parishioners – they're insulting her appearance. She's wearing a nice pair of denim capri's and a dressy polo that hugs her every curve. How could that NOT be appropriate for Mass? But then she notices all the other girls her age wearing frilly floral sundresses. Guess that's what you get the first time coming to a new church – if she'd been there before, she can't remember. She takes a seat in a pew in the far back, her foot gradually easing the kneeler to the floor without making a noise that would give her even dirtier glares. Kneeling on the leather material, she folds her hands and closes her eyes. She sends her one request to God through a meaningful prayer: she wants to somehow remember something from her past. As the Mass begins and its celebration continues, she observes a boy across the aisle staring at her. He's about her age, give or take a year or two. He's handsome, no doubt, and he wears the face of an angel. His cheeks hide the slightest hint of blush red since he'd been caught, and his eyes – which are close enough for her to see that they're a deep hazel – are beautiful. What really gets her is the simple question: why is he staring at her? It isn't the same expression glossed over everyone else's faces, but a smile of admiration and affection. She tosses him a smile in reply, and then diverts her attention to the priest, who by now is breaking the bread and pouring the wine. After the Mass, she slides the keys out from her jean pocket and begins making her way to her car in a hurry. Today is the day she gets to go to her summer beach house, but she's worried about the summer's outcome. There's a chance of her having neighbors – a large chance – but what if no one likes her? She shakes off the thought as she turns the keys in the ignition, then begins driving.]
At the beach
Miley: [She smiles the sundress over her petite figure, sneaking her toes through the openings at the edges of her flip-flops. Opening the door, she feels the sun's heat blast at her in a single moment, and she flinches a bit. Despite the shock, she closes the door behind her and steps out onto the sand. She inches toward the damp shore where the sand meets the water and becomes grateful that nobody's there and the beach is quiet. In fact, it's completely abandoned at the moment... except for the person approaching her. Hearing the splashing footsteps, she turns to the person, who has a familiar face.] Why hello there, stranger.
Joe: [He allows a chuckle to part his lips. Stepping next to her, he looks out onto the glimmering afternoon water. He had been the boy staring at her in Church, and he has no shame or regret about it. Twisting his head to her, he watches hers turn to him.] So I'm guessing we're neighbors this summer, huh?
Miley: [A giggle escapes from her mouth and she nods.] Well, I'm glad I'll be living near the boy who stared rather than glared.
Joe: I bet if they saw you now, they wouldn't glare.. I'm sure you look good in anything, though. [He smiles, then brings the notebook in his hand into view.] Can I borrow a pen?
Miley: [Biting her lip, she returns the smile and turns her body around to face the beach house.] Sure, I'll go get one. It'll take just a second.. [She rushes into the house, hastily searching until she finally finds one. She walks out again, then approaches the boy and hands him the pen.] There you go.
Joe: [He beams at her, taking the pen from her grip.] Thanks. Now I owe you, though.
Miley: [She giggles again.] I'm sure we'll figure something out. What do you need the pen for, anyways? And what's the notebook for?
Joe: Ah, this? [He lifts the notebook again, and when she acknowledges it with a nod, he smiles.] I'm writing a story.
Miley: A story? What's it about? [Her face brightens, reminded of her adoration for stories – especially romance.]
Joe: [Shrugging, his eyes shift to the notebook.] It's a love story. I'm no Nicholas Sparks, but I think I have a good plot..
Miley: [Rolling her eyes, she snatches the notebook from his hand and rummages through the pages. She reads a paragraph, and looks back up at him with a toothy grin.] I love it already.
Joe: [He raises his eyebrow at her in disbelief.] Really? Maybe I'll let you read each chapter when I finish one.. Wanna take it for now to read what I have so far?
Miley: [Excited, she hugs the notebook to her chest.] I'd love that.. I'll read it tonight after—
Joe: [Interrupting her, he grabs her by the hand and pulls her body closer to his.] After you have dinner with me, of course. I still owe you. [He wags the pen in front of her face.]
Miley: [Her laugh comes out unexpectedly, and she peers up at him.] I think I have to get to know you a little better, no matter how nice it sounds.
Joe: [He grins, lifting their intertwined hands to his chest.] I'd have no problem spending today with you.
Miley: [Butterflies in her stomach, she squeezes his hand and bolts into the water, tugging him with her, both of them still fully dressed. Her dress clings to her body, showing the bathing suit being worn just beneath it.]
Joe: [He gives her a fake, playful gasp, accompanying it with a light splash. The splashing game continues with rounds of both of them taking turns and splashing each other. At last, the game is understood as finished, and his hands snake around her waist.] I hear there's a great ice cream place a few minutes down the beach..
Miley: [She caves, detaching his arms from her body.] I might be going with you, but don't get too friendly yet.. [Her eyes glance at the notebook lying on the sand with the name "Joe" written at the bottom of the cover.] Joe, right?
Joe: [He smiles, agreeing, and reluctantly returns his hands to his sides.] And you?
Miley: Miley. [She smiles when she comes out of the water with a drenched body, Joe's condition mirroring hers. She laughs lightly, grabbing the notebook from the sand.] Let me just put this away.. [The pen on top of it is the one she had lent him, so she hands it to him and he puts it in his wet pocket. She enters the house and places the book on her bed, centering it so she'll notice it when she comes back later.]
Joe: [His fingers skim his soaking hair while he waits. When he sees her figure step over to him, he takes her hand again. Fortunately, she doesn't pull hers away the slightest bit while they walk to the ice cream hut. Upon their arrival, they run up to the window like two sweet-toothed eight-year-olds. He orders two vanilla cones, listening to Miley's request. He turns to her.] We're friends now, right?