Disclaimer: Characters/settings belong to Ann Brashares. Except for Lexy. (:

(A/N): So I pretty much wrote this fic for fun – right after I finished 'Bend it Like Bridget'. This is basically a short fic about Eric's fourth summer, while Bridget is in Turkey with Peter. It's not going to be as long as BILB; it's just a small 3-parter or so. I hope you enjoy anyway! (:

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Eric Richman walked slowly to his cabin, up to his chin in emotion. He was back. The thought wouldn't register completely in his brain. Not in a million years did he ever imagine that he would willingly come back to Baja, to the very camp where saucy Bridget Vreeland had turned his world inside out three years ago.

The familiar signs and landmarks tormented him. Every time Eric turned his head, he found himself thinking, There's the very bench she sat on during her first game. There's the field she ran laps on. And there's the beach…the beach where... oh God.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't handle being back.

He didn't know whether to feel nostalgic or nauseous; if he should keep his eyes propped open lest he miss a single familiar rock or grain of sand or if he should walk by quickly, turning a blind eye to all the memories. As a result, Eric was a confused jumble of various emotions, all vying to be the one he actually felt. His head throbbed.

Finally, at long last, Eric reached his assigned cabin (thankfully, not the one where Bridget had fetched him three years back). He sighed deeply and pushed his way into the dusty two-bed room.

"Sup, man," came a deep, husky voice. Eric pushed his sunglasses onto his head and blinked the bright sunlight out of his pupils to clear his vision. To his surprise, he saw that there was another person in the cabin already. The roommate was a classic California guy; with the dirty blond hair, golden skin, and long board shorts. He had a sunglass tan around his eyes, which made him look like a panda. He finished unpacking his duffel bag and stood up to greet Eric.

"How's it going, man? I'm Andy Maxwell. From San Diego."

Eric shook Andy's rough hand, wondering if he was going to be called 'man' for the next three weeks. "Hi," he replied. "I'm Eric Richman. I'm from Maryland, but I go to Columbia."

"Columbia," Andy nodded, impressed. "Nice, man. So, you're like a New Yorker."

Eric smiled. "Yeah. Pretty much."

The two boys continued organizing their cramped room and getting acquainted with each other. And after discovering their schedules, pinned to a cork bulletin board, they found out that they would both be coaching teams along with their directing gig.

"I'm coaching with Erica Nguyen…from New Jersey," Andy said, taking down his packet and flipping through it. "What about you?"

Eric thumbed through his own packet and ran a finger down to his name. "Lexy St. Clair," he replied, skimming her bio. "From Los Angeles. Captain of her high school soccer team, CIF champions. Rookie of the Year freshman year and MVP three years running."

Andy whistled through his teeth. "Impressive stats, man. You're going to work hard."

Eric made a noise of absent-minded assent. He didn't bother telling Andy that he had a girl at home who could kick this Lexy St. Clair all across the soccer field. Eric smiled, thinking of Bridget.

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Eric sat down at the wooden table, in front of the placard with his name printed on it. He glanced at his partner's card as well. Lexy St. Clair had yet to show up.

"All right, coaches!" boomed Rachel Wright, the main director, a tall woman whose blond ponytail constantly swung through the hole in her Yankees cap. She seemed to speak in exclamation points. "Please take this moment to bond with your co-coaches! You'll be working with them the entire summer! I'll give you fifteen minutes to talk, then we'll move on to the discussion of the game schedules and practices! Okay…go!"

The room steadily grew in volume as the coaches began to introduce themselves to each other. Eric felt slightly awkward without a partner. He decided to tie his shoes.

"Hi."

Eric looked up to see Lexy St. Clair slide into the seat next to him. Or, more appropriately, Eric saw her décolleté precede her into the seat next to him. He inspected the rest of her. His very tall, thin partner had amber eyes and long dark brown hair that ended beneath her shoulder blades. She was wearing a Liverpool soccer jersey and black mesh shorts with a rolled hem to reveal an endless expanse of leg. Lexy strongly reminded Eric of Alessandra Ambrosio. And he had seen more than his share of Alessandra in magazines over the past few lonely months without Bridget to come to recognize the model quite well.

"You're Eric Richman, right?" Lexy/Alessandra asked.

Eric couldn't seem to generate words in the presence of this attractive girl. Subconsciously, he knew he couldn't feel this way. He was a guy with a girlfriend, after all. A beautiful girlfriend. But was having a girlfriend really supposed to prevent a guy from being attracted to others? Eric wished that Bridget was sitting next to him that moment. Without her there, Eric felt powerless; like nothing could keep him in check.

"That's me," he finally spat out. "You must be Lexy St. Clair."

She smiled. "I can tell we're going to have lots of fun this summer."

Eric felt slightly sick to his stomach. "Yeah," he exhaled. "So…we're supposed to be introducing ourselves. Why don't you tell me about your family?"

She pursed her lips and thought hard. "My family? Um. Well, my mom is an aerobics teacher, and my dad is an engineer. They were really strict on me when I was growing up. I don't have any siblings, but I have a brown guinea pig named Owen."

"Owen…"

"After Michael Owen." She grinned. "Cutest player on Newcastle United."

Eric grinned back, in spite of himself. "Nice."

Lexy put her chin in her hands, and her hair draped over her shoulders. "What about you? What's your family like?"

He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "Well…my dad is a pro-bono lawyer and my mom stays at home. She's an amazing cook. And…I have a Lab named Rusty."

"Mm." Lexy made a noise of assent. "Any girlfriends?" Her voice was innocent.

Eric swallowed, fully intending to talk a mile a minute about Bridget. Bridget, with her magical hair and infectious smile. He could talk about her soccer accomplishments. Or her amazing spirit. Or how she always smelled of the ocean and vanilla shampoo. He usually had so many words.

But today, for some reason, he couldn't find them.

"Yeah. Bridget," he finally managed to choke out. "Her name is Bridget."

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(A/N) How was it? I hope you liked it. Feel more than free to leave me some motivation in the form of a review! Thanks for reading. I'll update soon! (: