For some reason, Toby was happy that the EMS guy allowed him to go along to the hospital. His dad agreed to keep Levi's package at home; Toby had a feeling it was probably the Pants anyway, and now wasn't the time to worry about them. Ugh, just the fact that one of his dads felt the need to even come smother him at work in the first place. What was he, 16?

…

…

…

Oh yeah. He was.

STILL. At least now he was left to look after Turd in peace. The staff used the kid's wallet and found a phone number to call his parents, so now Toby placed it next to Turd's hospital bed once they were settled in. Turd still wasn't awake, but the doctor said he'd be okay.

While waiting for Turd's parents to arrive, Toby held tightly onto the little boy's hand, taking deep breaths and calming himself down from the hectic afternoon he'd been having. Whenever this kid woke up, Toby knew he'd be alright, although he could have done without the kid peeing…

But the kid couldn't help it.

Finally, Toby heard a slight groan, and he looked over to see Turd slowly coming to. Toby breathed a sigh of relief as Turd opened his eyes. Thank goodness Toby was here, so that Turd didn't have to wake up alone. Hopefully this would make it a little easier-

"Dude, let go of my hand. That's creepy."

…

…

…

You're welcome, you little twerp, Toby thought to himself, answering the child's blunt request with a slightly taken aback look on his face. "Uh… sure. Glad you're okay…" Toby might as well be polite. This kid was probably in a daze, maybe even a little traumatized.

"Oh," Toby remembered. "Your wallet's right by the bed, and your parents are on their way."

"That's a funny way of telling me that you ripped off my wallet."

Toby was suddenly MUCH worse at masking his annoyance at this obnoxious little kid. "Excuse you? Why would I want to do that? I have a job."

Turd reached over and grabbed his wallet, looking inside and counting the bills. "I know I had more than four dollars in here."

"And I know you're full of it. The hospital used that thing to call your parents, after I looked for an ID. You're welcome."

"Oh, so you did go through my wallet. That's why I'm missing cash."

Toby raised his voice slightly, ready to knock this kid back unconscious. "Oh so THIS is how you thank people for saving you? I was trying to find an ID, and there wasn't jack. And why are you hanging on so damn tightly to this 'I stole your money' BS?"

Toby did not want to pull the card that he was about to pull. He didn't want to. But he really wanted to get one over this little twerp. "What, are you just THAT pressed to accuse the BLACK dude of stealing?"

Turd looked shocked, then slightly embarrassed. He clearly hadn't thought this out.

And then he doubled down with his jeering. "Well… well… what super fancy stuff do YOU have in YOUR wallet? A license to ride a bike and a Wallman's employee ID? Ooooooh, you're so grown up. Give yourself a gold star."

Tobias blinked, staring at the child in bewilderment. "Who the hell taught you to be so insufferable? You're, like, ten! And I don't even know your real name."

Turd scowled. "My name is Bailey, and I'm twelve, thank you very much."

Toby rolled his eyes. "Same difference. And I think I like 'Turd' better than Bailey."

Bailey tightened his lips, and Toby heard a very tiny snort, realizing that Bailey was trying hard to look cool and not laugh. Ah yes, that's right. He thought 'Turd' was a funny nickname.

"Bailey! Oh, thank goodness you're alright!" That was a distinctly adult female voice. When Toby turned around and saw an older white woman scurry into the room, he immediately guessed that this was Bailey's mother. That much was made obvious when she hugged Bailey and kissed the top of his head. Toby took that as his cue to leave, especially given how fed up he was with the kid.

Just as he turned to head out, however, the mother called out to him. "Oh my God, are you the one who helped Bailey? You are SO sweet for this. I just have to repay you, somehow!" Toby started to feel embarrassed and a little modest. Bailey's mom seemed sweet, at least. But he was also too pissed off too be TOO polite.

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving Bailey a side-eye before trying to leave again. He faintly heard the mother saying something along the lines of "Honey, were you testing someone again? How many times have…" and then the voice trailed off as he sauntered down the hall. It wasn't even half a minute before:

"Wait! Sir!" Toby looked back toward the voice calling him, which belonged to the mother. The blonde woman scurried down the hall after Toby, her legs extra close together and her upper arms held at her sides, making her look like an anime girl doing one of those stereotypical "girly runs."

"I'm so, SO sorry if my son was rude to you," she said as she caught up to Toby. "He's so sociable, but he also likes to test people. It's the strangest thing."

Well, damn. How often did Toby hear one of his dads say those same words about HIM? "Toby likes to test people."

Before Toby could really process that uncanny similarity, the mother continued. "It's because of his illness. Anytime he meets someone he thinks he might connect with, he tests them by acting rude and snarky out of nowhere, and I always tell him that it's NOT a good way to make genuine friends. But he doesn't listen."

…Now, Toby was intrigued, but also a little worried about what he might hear. "Illness? What's the matter with him?"

Bailey's mother's lip trembled slightly, and she briefly glanced back towards her son's room with an unhappy expression.

"He has leukemia. I still can't stand thinking about it… Ever since he was diagnosed, it's like a part of him already died. Oh my God. You should have seen how he treated some of his friends from school after we found out. He said the most vicious things to them. Some of them stuck around… but most didn't…"

As soon as the word "leukemia" was uttered, Toby only faintly heard everything she said afterward. His mind fogged up and he felt his stomach collapse on top of itself. It all made sense now, and Toby felt like garbage for saying such rude things to a kid who was probably dying.

What you you even say at that point? Toby was at a loss, especially since he was no social butterfly to begin with. "…I'm sorry…" was all he could muster.

"Please, don't be," said the mom. "You didn't know. Just please understand, whatever rude things he might have said to you, I can guarantee he didn't mean it."

Toby looked at the floor, now deep in thought, and having no idea what he was supposed to say or how he was supposed to feel.

"No, it's all good," he said, giving Bailey's mom a melancholy, tight-lipped smile and a nod before quietly leaving the hospital.

Once he got home, he glumly sat in bed and opened the package. Sure enough, it was the Pants, sent before Levi's week had been over.

Upon reading the letter, Toby found himself unable to relate to the "nothing exciting" part that Levi was experiencing.

It would have been awfully nice to have his three buddies here right now.

Cortez was thinking the same thing, but for vastly different reasons. After spending some hours alone in his room, he was currently sitting at the dinner table with his mom and the Rodman family, and he was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

…Yes, it was a nice house. And the table was full of delicious-looking food. But. Cortez still hated these new people. Because… because… he felt like he had to. Oh, but those lamb chops looked nice. So did the lasagna. And the zucchini. And the mashed potatoes. And the salad. And the-

No, Cortez, shut up, he thought. These were fake, vile people who were out to colonize his family. Unfortunately for Cortez, his thoughts were interrupted by Kris' insufferably chipper voice.

"Are you ready for grace?" The big fake smile on Kris' face was literally begging for Cortez's fist, who sadly had to veeeeeery gently take Kris' hand instead. Cortez did, in fact, feign enthusiasm for this upcoming wedding. He feigned it very unconvincingly, but he did try to be polite. But it was a few hours later now, and Cortez's tolerance was already down the drain. He didn't want to be nice.

Wait a minute… What did he say? "Grace?" Cortez absentmindedly blurted out. He looked at his mom, who was happily holding onto Paige's hand on one side and reaching for her son's on the other.

"…Since when do you do grace, Mom?" Allison tried to ignore her son's question, keeping her hand extended until Cortez finally took it. A very unfamiliar grace ensued, led by… Allison. His mother. The same mom who refused to go to church with Cortez and his dad once. And now she was Mother Theresa or something, saying grace with all this newfound holiness. All Cortez could think to himself was 'K.' As in, the actual letter 'K.'

He dug into the food as soon as grace was over, afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he didn't stuff it right this instant. Well. He had to give it to Lionel. He was a heck of a cook. Or Ms. Silent Bobbi, aka Paige. Whichever of the two it was.

"Allison, this is wonderful," said Lionel.

Cortez almost choked on his mouthful of lamb, but he was able to save himself and let out a muffled "MMMMMMM?" as he stared at his mother in disbelief. He finally got to speak after chewing and swallowing as fast as he possibly could.

"YOU made this? Mom, you HATE cooking!"

Allison awkwardly attempted a chuckle. "That's… not exactly true…"

Cortez was not having it. "Since WHEN?"

The mood, needless to say, was sufficiently ruined. Cortez simply stared at his mother as if she had five heads, before darting his eyes at each of the Rodmans, his face scrunching up into a glare at all of them.

"…Well, Cortez…" Kris tried to pipe up, attempting in vain to make things slightly more positive. "You're a little different from how your mom described!" He forced out a tiny, very awkward laugh, before Cortez stared at him with utmost venom.

"What, am I too brown for you?"

Kris' eyes widened in shock, taken aback by such a bold accusation. "…No, I only meant-"

Cortez interrupted him. "Too fat then? The glasses putting you off? Maybe I'm just not cute enough, or blonde enough, or buff enough to make YOU happy?"

"Cortez!" Allison finally put her foot down. "That's enough! Stop that!"

Cotrez huffed, as Kris narrowed his gaze at him with glassy eyes. Kris's cheery demeanor had diminished rather quickly, especially after his soon-to-be stepbrother snapped in such a manner. "What I meant was," Kris said in a snippy tone, "you're not as jolly or friendly as Mom described you."

Cortez's eyes flared up. "You already call her MOM?!"

Cortez clenched his fists and sharply inhaled, losing his appetite. He didn't want to spend one more second around these people today. "Can I be excused?"

"Yes!" Allison said, in a very stern and unimpressed tone. "You absolutely MAY be excused!"

That was all Cortez needed. He had exactly zero interest in being nice. He exchanged one last mutual glare with Kris before getting up and storming out of the dining room in a huff.

Cortez was perfectly aware that he was being a jerk. A big one. He didn't like being one, but there was something about this entire situation that made him angry. So angry that he couldn't understand himself. He couldn't help himself. Why was Lionel so nice? Why did Kris look like an Instagram model? Why was Paige silently judging him like he was a lunatic? Why was he here? Cortez wished he had a single answer, but it was all making him unable to control his temper. He just plain hated these people, and it upset him so much how this trip, which he'd been so much looking forward to, had already gone south.

Slamming his bedroom door shut, Cortez immediately whipped out his cellphone and called his father. Even when he wasn't around the Rodmans, he was unable to contain his anger. And as soon as his father answered the phone, Cortez blew up.

"DAD! Mom is getting married! She has a whole family full of blonde hicks that I didn't even know about until today! They even have a fancy house, and it feels like she's become a totally different person!"

"Whoa, Cortez! Slow down there, buddy," his dad interrupted. "When is your mom getting married, and who's the guy?"

Cortez took a deep breath, which helped a little, but… not much. "His name's Lionel, and the wedding's in August."

"Damn," his dad mumbled. "That's messed up. She should have told you this months ago."

"I know!" Cortez whined. "This house is all… big, and… bougie. Mom hates bougie shit! I mean, for Pete's sakes! There's hot tub jets in the BATHTUB!"

"Hot tub jets?" Cortez's father questioned, half in genuine disbelief, and half wondering what that had to do with anything. But Cortez doubled down.

"SERIOUSLY! HOT TUB JETS!" His meltdown persisted. "And I thought Mom hated cooking! But now, she's just out here, cooking lamb chops and stew and lasagna and all this other… stuff! And she says GRACE! She used to make fun of us for being Catholics, and now she's giving thanks to God before meals! WHO IS THIS LADY? And what has she done to my MOM?"

"Okay buddy," His father tried to calm him down. "You need to drink some water or something. Now, how about you decompress, and then talk to your mother? Tell her what's on your mind?"

"And say what?" Cortez protested. "Mom's fine. These other people are the ones literally waiting for me to 'go back to Puerto Rico.'"

"Whoa, seriously? They said that?" Cortez's father started getting heated. "That's it, I'm getting on a plane as soon as possible and-"

"Well," Cortez stuttered. "...No. They haven't SAID that. But I can tell that's what they're thinking! But don't do that, dad. I wanna see Mom. So just have a nice summer, go chill with Toby and his dads, and I'll figure out how to live with these randos. But the second somebody waves a MAGA flag in my face, I'm throwing hands."

And with that, Cortez said bye and hung up.

It wasn't a full second after he hung up before he heard a knock on his door.

A fairly aggressive knock.

…Ugh, screw it, Cortez thought. "Yeah?"

The door opened, and standing there was a very pissed off-looking Kris, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"Well," he began, "aren't you just a ball of freakin' sunshine?" The sarcasm oozed out of him.

Cortez rolled his eyes. Of course it was this tool. "Dude, I don't feel like dealing with you."

"Ditto," Kris bit back. "Also, you might want to be a smidge quieter with your smacktalk. I could literally hear you all the way from the bathroom. Downstairs. Every single word."

Cortez didn't care in the least. He was too mad at everything. "What do you want?"

"I don't know what your problem is, or where you learned to be so rude," said Kris. "That being said, let me make something perfectly clear. You can be as obnoxious and judgmental to me as you want. That's whatever. I'm a big boy. But you damn well better not be any less than a PERFECT gentleman with my sister."

Cortez interrupted Kris' soapbox with a groan. "Bro, what makes you think I'm gonna come after Paige? That chick doesn't even talk."

"That CHICK," Kris retorted curtly, "has been through QUITE enough, already. The LAST thing she needs is another asshole in her life, especially in her family. So. If you make her life miserable, guess what? I'll be more than happy to make your life miserable. Comprende?"

Needless to say, Kris was less than pleased, to put it mildly.

So was Cortez.

"Alrighty, Redneck Ken," he started, slapping his hands on his knees and standing up, while trying to speak in the most matter-of-fact manner he could. Without shouting, at least. "How 'bout this? You bug me one more time, in my own room, and I hand your catty ass to you on a silver platter. And you can limp down the aisle. You like that idea? Good. Me too. Deuces."

Kris snarled at Cortez for a moment, before wordlessly slamming the door shut again and marching away from the unhappy guest's room.

Alone again at last, Cortez allowed himself to drop the 'tough guy' act, crumble back into his bed, and cry.

He couldn't understand why he refused to be happy for his mother. Or why he didn't love that she was able to move on and find someone who made her happy enough to marry. He didn't even understand why he felt such a strong need to antagonize this new family in his mother's life. Truth be told, they seemed like perfectly decent people. And all the terrible things he was assuming about them were just that. Assumptions.

But he still hated them. And he hated himself for hating them.

Levi, meanwhile, was faring somewhat better. Having quickly forwarded the Pants to Toby, the boy was navigating his way amongst his loving, if somewhat one-track-minded, relatives. Since catching sight of that … VERY attractive boy from the oh-so-evil Dounas boogeyman family that Pappous hated, Levi had attempted to ask innocent questions as to why the Dounases were so terrible. He also asked Nikolaos and Andreas, but the only straight answers he got were "Dey are MONSTERS! Stay away from dem, if you don't want to be destroyed!"

…Such answers did nothing to appease Levi. Especially since that boy who smiled at him certainly didn't seem like a monster.

…Wait…

…Why was he constantly thinking about one random boy? Levi never did this. He never obsessed over guys like this. Maybe he just really appreciated pretty things.

Speaking of pretty things, Mykonos was a beautiful and vibrant island. Levi had already found himself a pattern of bringing a chair out to the docks, and drawing sketches of every beautiful thing he caught sight of. He drew couples, fish, stones, cute birds that landed next to him, as if to say hello… He sketched just about everything he could.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a very strong pair of hands clap onto his shoulders. He also faintly heard a deep voice say… something in Greek. But he had trouble hearing it well, over his own startled scream as he dropped his new sketchbook. By the grace of God, it didn't fall into the water, but his pen flew right out of his hand and sailed off into God knows where. Levi toppled backward, but the mysterious body behind him kept him steady. A laugh was heard as Levi tried to collect himself.

"Lypámai pou se tromázo! Eísai tóso charitoménos pou den boroúsa na synkratíso ton eaftó mou."

Levi began to catch his breath, picking up his sketchbook and silently bemoaning the loss of his pen. "I'm very sorry," he said. "I don't speak Greek very well." As he said those words, he stood up and turned to face his mystery attacker.

To his surprise (though probably not the reader's), it was that same beautiful, olive-skinned boy who made eye-contact with him a few days prior. The same boy from the dreaded Dounas family that Levi was supposed to hate, for some reason.

Standing a head taller than Levi, the mystery boy gave him a cocky smile as he set the chair aside. "Well then, perhaps we can work on that?" His English was just about flawless, and his Greek accent sounded very alluring to Levi.

Then Levi remembered that he was supposed to avoid him. And despite having just questioned why, Levi didn't want to rock the boat. Feeling nervous, he bowed his head slightly, a blush appearing in his cheeks, as he inched away from the Dounas boy. "No," he said meekly, "that's okay."

"Come now," the boy said. "You're going to be in Greece with your family, and not even learn the language? I'd be more than happy to help you."

Levi shook his head. "No, it's not that. I'm just… well… I'm not supposed to talk to you. I'm sorry."

But that certainly was not to say that Levi didn't want to. And the disappointed tone in his voice indicated that he very much did. The Dounas boy's grin widened, as if catching on to Levi's reluctance.

"Ah, yes. That is right, you are a Kaligaris. They told you about that little spat, I see."

"Well…" Levi trailed off. "Kind of. I just know that our grandparents hate each other. They haven't told me why. Still, I should probably go."

"Stay," the boy insisted with a disarming chuckle. "The arguments of old men have nothing to do with us. And look what a beautiful day it is! Would it not be a shame to waste it?"

Levi felt his blush deepening. It was true, the whole reason he was out here by the docks in the first place was because it was so nice. The sky was the bluest Levi had seen in a long time, and the weather was perfect. And he HAD been thinking about this boy a lot.

"…If my grandfather sees us, and kills me," he began, "can I haunt you?"

The boy laughed out loud, charmed by Levi's sense of humor. "I would have it no other way! Now, may I finally have your name? You have been on my mind for the past few days."

Levi felt his heart skip a beat, his face blushing even more, and that strange sensation happening that must have been what some called "butterflies in your stomach." He looked downward again, just for a brief moment, a vain attempt at concealing his embarrassment.

"I'm Levi."

"Levi!" The boy's face lit up with fascination. "You are also Jewish, then?"

Levi nodded his head. "From my mom's side, yeah. My dad actually converted for her."

"A Greek Jew…" The Dounas boy showed genuine interest, pretending to study Levi's features while really just checking him out. "And such a pretty sight, as well…"

Levi's blush deepened even more as he rubbed the back of his neck, deliberately looking away and a shy smile forming on his face. "Oh, please. You probably say that to every guy you talk to."

"Why, yes I do," said the Dounas boy, with a sarcastic grin on his face. "But you're special."

"…You say THAT to everyone too, don't you?"

"Yup!" The Dounas boy let out a hearty laugh, playfully slapping Levi's shoulder. Levi rolled his eyes, but could not help but chuckle along with him. He initially thought this Dounas boy was serious, but the laugh, combined with the fact that most actual philanderers don't tend to be honest, indicated that he was joking. And something about this little banter was tickling him.

"My name is Kostos," the Dounas boy said after calming down a little. "I will be attending the university in Athens in the fall."

Oh dear. This guy was probably too old for Levi. Well… maybe not? Levi was 16, so hopefully this guy wasn't… you know… 21. "Oh, I gotcha," he managed awkwardly. "So… how old are you? I'm 16." Levi was quite careful to mention his own age. While the age of consent in Greece was 15, that honestly felt gross to Levi. He was so used to America, where it was 18.

"I'm 17," Kostos answered, igniting a sigh of relief in Levi. "I skipped seventh grade."

…Because of course he had to be extra smart, too. Levi was certain this Kostos had to be too good to be true.

"Well, thank God you're not in your twenties," said Levi, prompting Kostos to laugh yet again. With all this laughing, Levi couldn't help but think something felt right about… this. Whatever "this" was.

"Yes indeed," Kostos replied. "I'd rather not go to jail!"

As Levi and Kostos continued their blissful conversation, Levi found himself growing more and more comfortable. Kostos, as it turned out, was not the "liar, thief, and barbarian" that Pappous had described the entire family. He was very sweet, and they both were constantly making each other laugh. Slowly, both boys began to lose track of time as they enjoyed each other's company.

And then…

"Koutávi!"

Oh boy. There it was.

"Koutávi" was the nickname Levi's cousins had begun calling him, and Pappous was catching onto it. As were the rest of the family. It was the Greek word for "puppy." This abrupt third voice specifically belonged to Pappous, and he didn't exactly sound amused.

He certainly didn't look amused either, when Levi turned in his direction after jumping up in surprise. In fact, Pappous looked as if his whole family was about to be devoured by a whale. He frantically called out to Levi, making hectic gestures urging the boy to come over to him.

"Get away from that filthy brute this INSTANT!"

Levi tensed up, feeling a sudden sting in his chest and a certain pressure, as if he were a lapdog of some sort. He looked over at Kostos, who was already marching up to Pappous and arguing with him in Greek. Levi felt helpless to diffuse this situation; he was one quiet and gentle person, facing two stubborn macho men who hated each other.

Still, he wanted to at least attempt to do something. So, he meekly approached the two and attempted to placate his grandfather. "Pappus, it's okay, we were just-"

"Stand here behind me, koutávi! NOW!" …Yeah, Pappous wasn't having it.

"It's alright, Levi," said Kostos, his glare not leaving Pappous. "You should go with him."

Glancing between Kostos and Pappous, the former who gave Levi a contented (but sad) nod, and the latter who pointed firmly at the ground right behind him with his eyes flared up, Levi meekly bowed his head, letting his eyes fall to the ground.

"...I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if he was saying that to Kostos, to Pappous, or to both of them simultaneously. But he said it softly, sadly, and just loud enough so they could both hear him as he walked over to Pappous' side. Pappous said one last (presumably nasty) thing to Kostos before storming off, pulling Levi along with him.

As Levi left with Pappous, he cast an apologetic glance to Kostos, who gave him a small wave.

Bridge ran up to Dane, a boy he knew on the green team. Ariel's team. He was a man in a mission today.

"Yo, Dane. You wanna trade places today?" No, this was not the first time he proposed this.

"…You think we'd get in trouble?" Dane replied. "Besides, Ariel's leading a run in five minutes. And they're meeting, like, six miles away."

Bridge shrugged. "Where at?"

"Uh…" Dane looked at Bridge like he has three heads. "By the equipment shed…"

"Welp!" Bridge began, completely unfazed. "Guess I'd better get going. See ya dude!"

Bridge didn't even hesitate for a second. He darted straight into the cabin, throwing on gym shorts, socks, and running shoes. He didn't bother putting a shirt on. Any excuse to show off for Ariel. Plus, it was hot. Half the guys were probably going to be shirtless anyway.

He was unsurprised to find that the group had already started off. No biggie. He was able to follow them down a dirt path. He had to chase them down, but he did it. He silently cursed himself for not taking a moment to stretch, but he was eager.

When he caught up, he saw that there were about fifteen boys. He hung behind them for about a mile or so, then caught his stride and found himself integrated into the group. He was a natural-born runner, so he had a good feeling he'd manage. And he did. Go him.

Pulling up with the middle of the pack, he made eye-contact with Ariel, and gave her a big smile. Before either of them knew it, he had pulled up right next to her.

"Sup," he said.

Ariel chuckled. "Wasn't expecting you here. Hope you're in the mood to run."

Bridge flashed a cocky smile. "You kidding? I was born to run. Just call me Bruce Springsteen."

Emphasis on "teen," but that was neither here nor there, as far a Bridge was concerned.

Ariel laughed faintly and rolled her eyes. Bridge could tell she was charmed. "Well then, Baby Bruce Springsteen, we're doing Seven-minute miles today. Should be right up your alley. Just fall back to your own pace if you get tired."

Bridge was absolutely not going to let himself do that. He had a lady to impress.

"So, I know you're at Columbia, but where are you from?"

"Los Angeles," she answered. "But I like spending my summers here."

"Yeah? You really like it here, then?" Bridge asked, genuinely interested.

"Sure do," Ariel answered. "My mom is Mexican, from Mulegé." Yup, just as Bridge suspected. She WAS Latina. And a gorgeous one, at that.

Bridge beamed as he got to learn more about her. "Nice! That's just a few miles south of here!"

Ariel smiled and nodded her head. "So, what about you, Mr. Gap Year?"

Bridge grinned. "Washington, D.C. My mom's from Amsterdam, so I can relate to having an immigrant parent."

"Amsterdam is beautiful," Ariel commented. "I've been there before. How about your dad?"

Oh boy, Bridge thought. He should have seen this coming. Now he had to figure out what to say, without lying any more than he already had. And how to do it without killing the mood. Oh… screw it. Might as well just say it outright. "My dad… he was from Alabama. He died."

Ariel looked directly at him. "I hope you're doing okay."

Bridge felt a sharp jump in his chest. That was a shockingly honest thing to say. Usually people just resorted to "I'm sorry," sometimes even adding "for your loss" afterwards. He couldn't help but look away for a moment, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable without a shirt.

He decided to box up his feelings, and feign confidence again until the feeling went away. In the meantime, he wished to change the subject. "So, how's Columbia? That's a great school."

Ariel took the hint. "It's great, though sports aren't exactly huge there, so being an athlete can be kind of strange. You sure you want to go there?"

"Sure, I hear the soccer program is great. That's kinda my thing anyway."

"Oh yeah. Soccer is terrific, and the academics are good of course. You think you'll apply anywhere else, or are you just gonna go all out for Columbia?"

Bridge decided he didn't want to sound like he was trying to follow her. Besides, he did, in fact, have other schools in mind. "University of Virginia's an option. They've already looked at me before." Maybe he sounded like he was bragging, but it was true. Besides, a little bragging never hurt anyone.

"How's about a race?" He quickly added. He was picking up his pace, and he wanted to show Ariel how spontaneous he could be.

She was happy to agree, and the two sprinted leagues ahead of the other runners. Half a mile forward, they came upon the beach, on which they collapsed next to each other and absorbed the scenery, the weather, the perfect adrenaline from all the running, and the intimacy felt between them as they shared this simple moment together.

Eventually, they jumped into the water and swam together, splashing each other and laughing and sneaking around one another underwater. It was bliss, and by now, Bridge had bottled up his vulnerable feelings enough to truly enjoy himself.