#and got a job at the summer camp i spent every summer at from age 13 to 16

[emobarn]

..

[b38rman]

READ YOUR MIND ᯓ★ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, slight miscommunication, loosely inspired by the sabrina carpenter song of the same name

synopsis - This was definitely not on the marketing internship job offering for Prema Racing. You swore you had everything under control before this—before Ollie Bearman took up most of the weekend's agenda.

rating - teen and up readers

warnings - slightly suggestive ending

a/n - i wrote this before ollie was announced as a 2025 f1 driver and the slight implications of dread related to that uncertainty are littered throughout this work so just keep that in mind (or not) enjoy!

Thursday — Spain, 2024

The unmistakable sound of the hotel doorbell rang through your room. Admittedly, the best time to go to sleep had already passed you by at this point, considering the 7 AM lobby call time the team had for you. Unfortunately, the restlessness that could only be attributed to constant location changes seeped into your bones.

You got up, trying to dispell the feeling populating your gut. Perhaps, more than anything, it was the dull influx of certainty. You were still learning how to get used to this.

You opened the door slightly, just enough to see who was on the other side. 

“Took you long enough.” The familiar rumble of Ollie���s voice filled your ears, as he pushed his way into your bedroom.

At this point, you were 100% sure that any of this was not part of any of the contracts Prema made you sign when they offered you the internship. No matter how much you looked between the lines of wage and non-disclosures, you wouldn’t find what you and Ollie had anywhere.

It was just that it was becoming a routine at this point. From the beginning of the season, Ollie seemingly couldn’t find a better victim than you for his late night musings. You tried to gently reprimand him at first, telling him off about his bedtime and his racing and all of the things he’d scoff at you for and turn a stubbornly deaf ear towards.

Ollie rounded the room slowly, his white sleep shirt and flannel pajamas contrasting against your worn summer camp shirt and cotton shorts. You felt overexposed, as you always did in these situations. 

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Ollie asked, mindlessly making his way to your side of the bed.

You thought about it for a second before responding, “Nope, too tired to be that stressed out.”

Ollie hummed in acknowledgment before laying back onto your bed, phone in hand, with his legs still dangling over the edge. He always took your side of the bed, despite it very obviously being rumpled and occupied.

You climbed onto the other side and tucked yourself in under the sheets. As if on instinct, Ollie moved his head upward, resting it on your stomach, before locking his phone and setting it on his chest. 

“I just feel a bit odd, you know? Like everyone says so many good things about me but really, I haven’t done anything.” He looked to the ceiling as he rambled. “I have another FP1 tomorrow and all I can think about is how I don’t know how to be what people want me to be. I don’t know how to keep being good, or how to really be good; will people even look back and think I was good?” 

“That’s some bad imposter syndrome you got there, huh?” You stretched your hand out and lightly laid it on his head, stretching your fingers against the expanse of brown waves. Ollie leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes.

“The only thing that should matter is who you want to be.” You grinned fondly at him, even if he couldn’t see it. “Besides, you’re way too young to be worrying stuff like that.”

“We’re the same age.” He opened his eyes just to look at you as he said that. 

“And do you see me worrying about my legacy?” You joked, earning a toothy smile and a roll of eyes from Ollie. 

At every moment you’ve spent with Ollie so far, he’s not felt like someone that appears on national television broadcasts or on carefully curated Pinterest boards. You could almost see yourself looking across the lecture hall, seeing him, and wondering if he was really paying attention or just browsing on his laptop.

Instead, he was one of the boys you’d keep track of social media appearances for. You managed his filming schedules for both long-form and short-form videos, and wove through seas of people and motorhomes with him to find a spot to record his little post-race briefs. You weren’t assigned to him specifically, but it usually was you and him most of the time.

“It’s, um, getting late.” You tried not to be too awkward about untangling your hand from Ollie’s hair. “I think you should get some rest.”

You waited for him to complete the final part of this routine you had going, wherein he’d sleepily walk to his own bedroom and you’d fall asleep in your own fully warmed bed. 

Except for the fact that he didn’t do that at all. 

“Could I just stay here? I don’t really want to be alone right now.” You felt Ollie shift ever so slightly from where he was, head still resting on you.

Questions on professionality and ethics rang through your mind one after another. 

“Are you sure?” Was all you could muster. 

Ollie seemed to recognize your concern without you voicing it. After all, you weren’t particularly discreet about any of it. 

“I’ll just wake up earlier, it’ll be fine.” He finally raised his head and began setting an alarm for five in the morning. Part of you knew it was futile. Considering everything, it was a bold move, considering that it was just past midnight.

You watched him mindlessly, as he turned all the lights off, only leaving the light from the bathroom peaking out through a slight opening in its door. For a moment, you let yourself think of a time and place where this was a normal occurrence—one where him curling up in bed next to you in near complete darkness felt like a grounding force instead of a guilt-inducing one.

You turned to face away from where he was laying, opting to try and not make this any weirder than it could be. 

“Good night.” He said regardless. “Sweet dreams.” He said, in a softer voice, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. 

You could feel his body near yours, almost as if the full size bed was too cramped for the two of you. 

“Sweet dreams, Ollie.” You replied.

You felt him roll over to his back as you drifted off to sleep. 

Friday

Your eyes shot open at the sound of an iPhone alarm going off, obviously being the one Ollie set a few hours prior. What you didn’t immediately process was the arm wrapped around your waist, and the soft snores coming from the face that was nuzzled into your hair. Your heart was pounding. 

“Ollie,” You lightly shook the arm that was over you. “Ollie, wake up.”

You were only met with a long grunt and a tightened grip.

“Ollie, please, come on.” You tried sitting up to give him a bit more of a hint, displacing his arm on you.

Finally, he rolled over, turning off his alarm. The sun was barely out yet, and you saw him squinting at you through his sleepy eyes. 

“I don’t want to go.” He said softly and groggily, toying with a loose string on your worn shirt. 

“You have to.” You replied with every ounce of control in your body.

Ollie grunted faintly before stretching his arms over his head, silently sitting up and making his way out of the door as quickly as he came through it. 

Everything kept moving into the next day. You’d comprehensively briefed Kimi in the morning on his share of marketing activities over breakfast and sneaked some Live at Prema footage here and there, with Ollie notably paying less attention and getting called by some F1 media members midway. 

The constant elephant in the room was the tinge of disappointment the team felt due to Ollie’s slightly lackluster feeder performances in direct comparison to all of the F1 hype surrounding him, which no amount of sarcastic humor from the team could conceal. 

Despite everything that happened the night prior, everything remained calm and professional (he barely acknowledged you outside of what he needed to do, which was both a relief and a punch to the gut). 

Between photoshoots and practice sessions, you’d spotted Ollie from afar. Barely anyone could get a hold of him after free practice, as he was justifiably rushing between garages. 

He was up and down the paddock clad in his black Haas shirt, clearly moving with an air of confidence that filled your chest with something you couldn’t describe. This Ollie felt worlds away, which brought you as much joy and pride as it did a hint of melancholy. You were still figuring out what he was making you feel, but at times like this, he felt worlds away.

You were pulled away from your thoughts as quickly as they came to you, as you engrossed yourself in content with the F1 Academy drivers. When you weren’t doing that, you were organizing paperwork, analyzing metrics, and sifting through footage on your phone and camera.

The feeling you suppressed earlier only returned as the F1 cars hit the track. You thought about how near he felt at present, just at touching distance in the space between your hotel room and Grisignano de Zocco; but you also thought about how faraway everything would become after Prema, and how much you’d have to feel if you allowed yourself to let your guard down around Ollie.

After all, every sane racing driver would hope that feeder wouldn’t be forever. Deep inside you, though, you wished this feeling wouldn’t just be hidden in the footnotes of what would become Ollie’s career. Nevertheless, the sheer idea of wanting someone who was literally the face of a future generation of racing amidst the backdrop of him being capable of being wanted by every other person in the world felt incredibly absurd and daunting to say the least. 

(The two of you weren’t even anything. You weren’t really sure about these thoughts.)

After your rumination and the inevitable conclusion of the free practice session, you continued your work as you were directed to. It was entirely a coincidence, though, that your next duties included bringing parts of Ollie’s race kit and his water to his area in the shared driver’s area in preparation for qualifying. As every internship went, you often had miscellaneous work to fulfill.

Kimi had already finished his personal preparations for qualifying, already looking over last minute data, while Ollie was running late due to his prior commitment. The air was undeniably stress-ridden, as your first real encounter of the race day with Ollie was him scrambling to get into his overalls and suit, but you set everything down calmly while pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Was starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.” Ollie was the first to break the silence, imploring you to look up at him.

Warmth filled your body at his words. For a moment, you worried that he knew he had some type of effect on you, but you quickly pulled yourself together mentally. 

“One less person to persuade to listen to my content briefs.” You shrugged, smiling at him playfully, almost daring him to retaliate. 

As the rush caught up to both of you, the only cohesive answer to your banter that he gave you before exiting into the garage was a soft squeeze on your forearm. 

“We’re friends, right?” Ollie asked, already tucking himself into your bed without hesitation.

Once Ollie was done slumping over in qualifying debriefs with the team, he made his way to your room again. It was the same routine as last night, just with a lot less talking.

The thing is, you weren’t saying anything either. That in itself said a lot.

You looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes?”

Well, you were sharing a bed, tucked under the same sheets, staring face to face at each other in the dim yellow light of your Barcelona hotel room. 

“Maybe? I don’t know, Ollie—“ You second-guessed for a moment before continuing, “—I’m literally an intern. We work together, technically.” 

Ollie’s face twisted into something unreadable. His eyes shifted to the side as he mouthed the word ‘technically’ under his breath. 

“I mean, I guess we could be friends if you want.” You followed up. God, you felt ridiculous for having a conversation that sounded like this. 

He took a breath, deep and slow. “I want a lot of things,”He answered.

Ollie looked at right you, eyes so big, bright, and endless.

“I know.” You replied impulsively, in a voice barely above a whisper. 

He got so dangerously close to you that you could feel the warmths of his breaths on your face. 

“You don’t.” The weight of his gaze felt like it was melting you from the inside out. “You really don’t.” 

Ollie closed the gap between the two of you, his dry lips engulfing yours for what felt like an eternity, despite it being maybe a five-second peck at most. When he pulled away, you were breathing like he’d taken all of the air out of your lungs just from the sheer pace your heart was beating at.

A look of uncertainty flashed across his almost annoyingly pretty face. The kiss was so sweet, and you hated to be the one to make him question himself.

“We shouldn’t.” You said in conjuction with your uncontrollable heartbeats and air-filled breaths. 

“Then tell me you don’t want this.” Ollie challenged, laying one calloused, warm hand on your cheek.

“Ollie—“ You tried to protest. Every logical part of your brain was telling you how wrong all of this was, and how stupid you were for letting this happen in the first place.

In spite of all that, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You couldn’t lie to him for the life of you. 

You wanted this so bad. All you could do was want.

You laid your cold hand atop the one cupping your face, and let yourself look back at the earnest look on his face. You felt overexposed, sensitive all over like you’d been put out in the sun for too long.

“Please.” You could barley manage words, but you finally let yourself lean into him to erase every seed of doubt planted in his mind. 

The movement of your lips against one another quickly turned hot and heavy, and you let Ollie take and take everything he could’ve wanted. His hand wandered down to your neck and achingly close to your chest, as his kisses migrated down to your neck.

“We—ah—we really shouldn’t be doing this,” You weakly attempted to be rational, even if your hand was tangled in his hair and heat was quickly pooling between your thighs.

In response, he dove right below your collar bone, beginning with a bite and continuing with not-so-subtly marking you there, coaxing a mix between a gasp, wimper, and a soft moan out of you. 

It was glaringly obvious that he didn’t care all that much.

[chronicowboy]

every atom of me was made for you | 3.6k

Eddie hates it when his and Buck's shifts don't line up. It's a rare occurrence these days, but every now and then the scheduling gods frown upon them. And, look, Eddie knows he and Buck might be a little co-dependent, but that's not the reason he hates being separated from his partner on the job. He can get through his own Buck-less shifts fine. Sure, he'd prefer having Buck at his back, never wavering in his trust for the person at the other end of the line, never having to look over his shoulder in a burning building, never waiting for more than a few seconds for the right tool to be pressed into his hand. But he can handle a shift with people he knows at a professional level. It's when Buck is the one at the firehouse with an alien crew that Eddie can't handle being apart.

B-shift is a few people down after a pretty bad three-alarm fire downtown took three firefighters out with varying levels of severity—Santiago got a concussion from a falling beam, George broke a few ribs when she fell through the floor, Kent's ankle is fractured from an unfortunately timed crumbling wall—so there's a scramble to cover the absences. Normally, Eddie would volunteer immediately, needing the extra money to pay for Christopher's camp this summer. But camp is a week away, and he only has a few more days to soak up his son before he leaves him for two whole weeks. So, he lets himself be selfish.

Buck, of course, does no such thing. Eddie shouldn't have expected it, but he'd kind of thought Buck would decline the offer too—after all, he's spent the past month complaining about Christopher's impending departure too. So, Buck volunteers to cover along with Hen who takes any opportunity for more money with her new little girl at home and Chimney who has a wedding looming on the horizon. And Eddie feels a little better about Buck having two very capable and trustworthy people with him.

But the uneasiness doesn't fade completely. It never does. Ever since the lightning—and realising he's madly, deeply in love with Evan Buckley—Eddie has had a difficult time settling whenever he can't see Buck. It's wholly irrational, and he's working through it with Frank, but it doesn't stop him from turning nauseous with worry every time it takes Buck more than a few seconds to reply to his texts or pick up the phone. It's ten times worse when Buck is at the firehouse without him. Eddie spends the whole shift waiting for Bobby's name to light up his phone screen with some terribly life-altering news. But that doesn't happen. Instead, it's Buck's name flashing on his screen above a text containing a random fact, or a call about the ridiculous scene they'd just wrapped up or a FaceTime to prove that Eddie does in fact own an extensive collection of DVDs in this day and age.

(Each time he sees Buck's name, there's still the lingering fear that it will be a goodbye of some sort; a hastily typed text, a voice message, a shaky phone call.)

He's getting better at handling it, but he doesn't think he'll ever be able to stop worrying about Buck like this. It's just part of loving someone so much. So, he does his best to keep himself distracted until Buck texts him at the end of his shift to let him know he got back to the loft—not home—safe. Except today, when Christopher is actually asleep in bed and not playing Zelda under his blanket, there's a knock on the door that has Eddie's hackles rising instantly.

It's a trembling breath that carries him to the front door, a thousand reasonable scenarios of what could be waiting for him on the other side forming in his head. And then, he finds a haggard Bobby stood on his porch, Captain's truck parked just behind his truck, and all reason flies out the fucking window.

"Bobby, what—"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late," he sighs apologetically, a furrow to his brows as his eyes drift off somewhere to his side.

"Bobby," Eddie pleads, heart contorting in his chest. "Bobby, Buck, is he—"

"Oh, Eddie, no." Bobby's face turns a little sheepish as he reaches off to the side. "He's fine." Bobby drags an unsteady Buck into the doorway, and Eddie takes in a gasping breath of ice cold relief. 

(OR: buck head injury fic #1 where eddie spends his day off worrying about buck and buck doesn't think that best friends worry about each other the way they do)

@danielsousa @binickmiller @jamietarts @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @buddstiel @organizedstardust @theoneandonlypigeon @anatargmova @alyxmastershipper @buckley-diaz-rules @blazeturbo102 @panbuckley @slowlyfoggydestiny @thatnamewill-probably-change @compactdiscmp3 @batgrldes @scattered-winter @prince-buck-diaz @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy

[broadstbroskis]

cruel summer | matthew tkachuk

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more

15k, summer romance, fwb to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, significant references from cruel summer

+playlist

a/n: hi! i’m back, maybe! kinda. i am not exaggerating when i tell you this has been years in the making. someone once asked me a question about what song i would love to write a fic about and i said cruel summer by taylor swift. shoutout to them, whoever you are, for inspiring this! at some point, i lots of continuity errors that are not really relevant to the plot (i.e. matthew was traded to the panthers, although neither calgary nor florida appear in this, ages, etc.)

HUGE thanks to the many friends who cheerleaded me on with this. some of you don’t even go here anymore, i love you still and hope you’re all doing well. for those of you that still are ( @blueskrugs​ @matthewtkachuk​ ​@miracleonice87​ @laurenairay​ probably more, i’m sorry i’m forgetting!) you are all amazing, i love you, you’re all incredible and supportive and the best!

Growing up, your year was split into three seasons: football season, lacrosse season, and summers at Cape Cod.

Your dad’s football season began early; he’d go off to training camp well before your mom would move you and your brother back home for the school year, and even once he’d retired from the sport and moved into a broadcasting role, he was still back and forth for the last month of summer much more frequently than the rest of you.

Lacrosse came next, the sport that both you and your brother loved. Once preseason began, it was all you lived and breathed until the season was over, whether that was in heartbreak or absolute elation.

But for all that you loved lacrosse, summers at Cape Cod were your favorite. You lived for those summers at the Cape, you loved the friends you made there, you loved the time spent at the beach, the peace felt there. Those summers were like no other part of the year.

So you were excited to be able to spend one last summer there before you had to enter the real world. One last hurrah of no worries. 

Or at least, that’s your plan. You’re sure that your mom’s got other plans for your summer, but honestly, you’ve got a job lined up that’s set to start in September, once intern season is over, and you’ve got nothing planned besides sitting your ass on the beach with a book in one hand and a drink in the other until then. 

Your parents had mentioned working on the house over the year, but the basics remained the same and the excitement for summer starts to bubble within you, as you make your way to your room, chatting with your mom as she points out some of the work they’d had done. Her next project- the downstairs bathroom- was ready to be started and she already wanted your opinions. “I brought cabinet and back splash samples to look at!”

“Deal.” You laugh, hanging off the door frame of your room, eager to get inside and throw your stuff down. “This weekend, for sure.”

Your room is familiar, unchanged in every way since you last left it, to the point that there’s still half a bikini out on the balcony that you must have forgotten to pack up last summer. You drop your suitcase on the floor and open the door to grab it, immediately distracted by the sea air, leaning against the railing.

“Yo!” A voice calls, and you look over to find its source, grinning when you do.

There’s a boy on the balcony facing you from the house next door-well not really a boy anymore; he’s got five years in the NHL under his belt now. But regardless, Matthew Tkachuk is grinning at you from the balcony next door, just like he used to every summer when you were growing up.

“Hey!” You call back, waving excitedly, and as if being here with your family and your summer friends wasn’t enough to make this the best summer, having Matthew here too? Well, your last hurrah was just getting better.

-----

It’s far later than you would have woken up if you were going to lacrosse practice at school, but still far earlier than you’d like to wake up in the summer, when you find yourself blinking at the wall, unable to fall back asleep and feeling restless, so you slip out of bed and start digging through your stuff for some running clothes.

If you’re not going to sleep in late, you may as well get a good run in. 

The route you start is familiar, an old comfort, and it brings a grin to your face to see everything that’s still the same and all the things that have changed since your last time running this path a few years ago. 

A few minutes in, you notice someone fall into step beside you and look over to find Matthew running beside you. “Hey.” You pull an AirPod out of one ear and he does the same, returning the greeting. 

“God, why are you awake?” Matthew asks, and you can hear how tired he is.

“Used to waking up early.” Seriously, lacrosse workouts had started hours before this. “Why are you?”

He pulls a face. “Needed to get a workout in before we go grab the boat from the marina.”

“What, and Brady doesn’t?”

“Lazy fucker said he’d do it after.” Matthew grunts. “Not gonna happen.”

“Ohhh, calling out conditioning already! I love it.” If you thought your own family was competitive, the competitiveness of the Tkachuks, put you all to shame. It was fucking hilarious to watch, a highlight of every summer.

Matthew shrugs. “110% to everything, right?”

“I want a front row seat when you guys play corn hole this week.”

“Shotty Taryn.” Matthew grins.

“Poor Brady.” You lament. “Not even going to know what hits him.”

Matthew shrugs. “That’ll teach him to sleep in.”

You burst out laughing, then have to stop running because you think you’re going to die if you continue doing both. “Oh my god, you asshole.”

Matthew shrugs again, waiting for you to catch up with him a few steps ahead, but he’s laughing too, which just sets you off more, and honestly, you might need more than a minute to recover from this one. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him and you’d forgotten how much fun it was just hanging out with him. 

-----

“There’s a party tonight,” Nora, who comes from one of those Kennedy-esque giant New England families and has been summer-ing three doors down from yours for as long as you can remember, says, not even bothering to lift her head up from the towel she’s sunning herself on. “That a couple of guys from my school are throwing.”

You shrug, dragging your attention away from the game of cornhole that Matthew and Brady are playing with a couple of your other friends, Ethan, and Jake. “I’d be down.”

“You just want to hook up with Alex Miller one last time.” Bri, Nora’s cousin and best friend- a wild friendship that you have never been able to fully understand, but one that you think could just watch the back and forth for hours-accuses her.

“So would you, if you knew the things he could do with his tongue.” Nora waggles her eyebrows.

“This was a bad time to come over.” Ethan cringes and you, Bri, and Nora all burst into laughter as you see the same look on Ethan, Jake, Matthew, and Brady’s faces, game of cornhole evidently complete. 

“Party tonight.” Nora explains. “You in?” Ethan and Jake both immediately and excitedly agree so you turn to Matthew and Brady. “You guys coming?”

Brady shrugs super nonchalantly, but Matthew nods. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Nora grins. “Sweet. We’ll meet you outside tonight at 10.”

It’s already 10:15 when you and Bri make it down to their kitchen, finally dressed, already a little tipsy, and still waiting on Nora, but the boys have let themselves in and made themselves at home, drinks already in hand. “Uber will be here in five.” Jake says.

“Fuck.” Bri’s eyes widen and then she goes to shout off for her cousin as you laugh, suggesting a round of shots quickly before you go.

The best part about some of these old Cape Cod houses is all the land they have and how far they are from the main roads or, better yet, their closest neighbors, and when the Uber drops you off at the end of a driveway, it takes a minute before you realize the party is already in full swing. There’s music bumping, the bass is heavy, and there’s a bonfire crackling on the beach, which is absolutely where you’ll be headed just as soon as you find the keg and get yourself a drink.

“There’s your boy.” Bri elbows Nora, when the group of you are barely halfway up the driveway, and Nora holds a peace sign up to all of you as she dips off to the side.

“See you next week!” Ethan jokes to her, because she's known for disappearing for weeks at a time in the summer once she finds a boy, only showing her face at parties and the occasional beach day until she’s ready to find the next one. 

Nora pauses long enough to turn and flip him off, grinning at all of you as you laugh, even Brady, who’s definitely least familiar with all of you, barely old enough to even sneak beers off to last time you were all in town together, but then she's off, and so are the rest of you, filling cups at the keg and moving through the party, saying hi to friends and familiar faces from summers’ past. 

But the bonfire was your goal from the minute you entered this party and it’s where you find yourself almost immediately, squishing yourself into the smallest space, enough that it’s barely even a seat next to Mathew, practically half in his lap. “Hey!” He whines in protest, but it doesn’t sound serious at all, even as you shift yourself around and drape your legs over his.

“Thanks for sharing, Matty!” You beam but immediately want to take it back as he rests his cold cup against your leg.

“Payback.” He grins right back, but transfers the cup to his other hand, resting his free hand there instead, thumb just gently brushing back and forth over your skin, and quickly the two of you lose yourself into catching up with your friends again.

——-

“I’m dying.” You tell Matthew, when you meet him at the end of your driveway the next morning. 

“I already puked in the bushes across the street.” He tells you. “Not sure how long this run is lasting.”

It lasts until you puke in the trees lining a stretch of road, which sets Matthew off as well, and then you both stop in a nearby convenience store to grab gatorades, before walking slowly to the beach and just...sit, slowly sipping. 

“This is much more my speed today.” You tell Matthew, yanking your tank top off over your sports bra to use as a pillow and lying back on the sand. 

“Yeah.” Matthew agrees after a minute, sounding a little spacey, so you turn to follow his voice, only to find that he’s done the same as you, and is lying back as well, showing off a lot of skin, and a lot more muscle than when you’d last seen him a few summers ago. 

You feel a little ridiculous when you find your eyes lingering on the slope of Matthew’s shoulders and down to his pecs- after all, you’d spent all day at the beach together yesterday and hadn’t had this issue-but you can’t seem to take your eyes off him. 

“Gonna stay here a while.” You close your eyes, turning away from Matthew, soaking up the feeling of the sunshine, already feeling yourself drifting off into a nap.

“Power move.” Matthew agrees and the next thing you know, someone’s pressing a cold can into your stomach. 

“Holy shit!” Your eyes pop open as Jake laughs above you. “You asshole.”

“Here.” Jake passes you the beer can and a koozy and even as you feel your stomach turn, you pop it open. 

“I’m going to regret this.” You tell him.

“Summer, babe!” Jake shrugs. “Live it up.”

And well, that’s what you’re here for, right? That was your whole plan for this last hurrah, wasn’t it? So even as your stomach turns, you cheers your beer with your friends, moving closer to Matthew to make room for the rest of them to throw everything down, thoughts of his shoulders almost forgotten as plans for tonight start coming together.

Almost forgotten.

-----

Tuesday night is burger night at the country club and it’s been a weekly event for your family since you were a little kid. So after another long day at the beach (and a much needed post-beach day shower), you and your mom make your way to the club to find your dad already waiting for you at a table on the patio. He’s flipping through the menu, like he doesn’t order the same burger every week, and he’s already ordered drinks for all three of you- a whiskey for himself and a glass of wine each for you (rosé) and your mom (chardonnay).

“How was golf today?” You ask your dad, already grinning and ignoring the glare your mom sends your way. Magic Steve, as he was known by almost everyone, after a football season filled with comebacks leading to a Super Bowl win, had picked up golf the second he retired from football, too competitive to sit around and do nothing, but the magic didn’t carry over and he was terrible at it, no matter how many lessons he took. You lived for his stories about how each different course was out to get him in a different way. Would it be the ball’s fault he lost today or his putter? 

“Awful.” Your dad says, launching into a story about the eighth hole- the bane of his existence- and the group in front of them, and the cart girl, and his caddy, each playing a role in why he lost today. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back and work the course this summer?”

“Sorry.” You tell him, sure that you sound anything but about why you don’t want to come back to being a cart girl. The money was great, but, “I’m a free agent this year.”

He laughs. “What’s your starting offer then?”

“Sunshine, sand, and beer.” You grin.

“Got all those things here.” He jokes and it takes a second before it lands.

“Ugh, lame.” You tell him, but you can’t even keep a straight face because he looks so proud of himself. “Just like your score today, apparently.”

“Cold-blooded.” Your dad says as your waiter approaches. “Taught you so well.”

“Steven.” Your mom rolls her eyes, exasperated. 

Your dad winks at you and you hide a giggle as you order. The conversation turns to some of the decorating ideas for the downstairs bathroom and when your mom wants to really get started, before switching to your brother, some of the neighbors, and some hot town gossip. 

“Before I forget!” Your mom says, as your dad is paying the bill. “Chantal wants to do dinner with everyone when Chase is here this weekend.”

“Can you clear time in your busy schedule of sitting around doing nothing?” Your dad deadpans.

“I’ll have you know that Matthew and Brady are right next to me sitting around and doing nothing, but I guess we can make time for Chase.” You sigh dramatically.

He shakes his head at you fondly, ruffling your hair as you try to stand up from the table. “Must be a nice life.”

“Very peaceful.” You tell him, finally standing. “Maybe one day when Chase is here I’ll join you on the course and kick your ass.”

“Remember you said that next time you come home at 2am drunk and I let you sleep in.” Your dad advises, as the three of you start walking out toward the cars, because you both know the potential for you to beat him is there. “Because I will.”

You giggle and blow him a kiss, even though you know you’ll pay for it later. “May the best golfer win!”

It’s once you’re home, barely an hour later, that the text comes in. 

ice cream🍦?

There’s really nothing to even think about. You were two seconds from your pajamas and bed but as soon as Matthew texts you to ask, you can practically taste a Dresner’s cone in your mouth. Meet you out back. You send back and then slip on some sneakers and head back downstairs.

“Where are you going?” Your mom looks surprised. You had, only a few minutes ago, ducked out of watching a movie with her and your dad because you were too tired from your long day in the sun.

You’d taken a lot of shit for that one.

“Dresner’s with the Tkachuks.”

“Oh, she can stay up for ice cream.” You hear your dad call out sarcastically.

You grin. “Bye, love you!”

When you get out back though, the only Tkachuk out there is Matthew. “Ready?” He twirls the keys around his finger.

“Yup!” You follow him around the corner to their garage, sliding into the passenger seat. “Siblings busy?”

He nods, starting the car. “Taryn’s with her friends.”

“And Brady?” You prompt.

“Brady’s with Melissa.” He smirks.

“Brady!” You say, putting on the most scandalous tone you can manage. “Look at him, growing up!”

“Grown up Brady is just one more person to share beer with.” He points out.

You burst out laughing. “We’re all legal adults now that can buy alcohol whenever we want. Some of you all even have jobs. I don’t think sharing beers is a problem anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s a good life now.” Matthew laughs.

You nod in agreement, grinning and jumping out of the car practically before he puts it into park and ignoring his glare. “Yeah it is.”

It’s late enough at night now that the families with young kids have mostly cleared out of Dresner’s, but there are plenty of high schoolers hanging outside still, which only makes you feel old as fuck when you glare at a pack of them for getting too close on their bikes.

Matthew’s cracking up at the look on your face as they pass. He has to stop walking for a second, hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath.

“They almost ran me over!” You protest.

“Uh huh.” He says, failing to hide a smirk, as he presses his hand to your back to lead you to the counter. “Sure.”

Nothing about Dresner’s has changed since the two of you were kids, from the large blue and white planks the building is made from to the giant fading board listing all the flavors. In fact, the only thing that ever changed was the chalkboard in the center window listing the special monthly flavor- strawberry shortcake for May.

Matthew’s already eyeing it up, but you know exactly what you’re ordering. “Mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone with rainbow sprinkles, please!”

The teenager behind the counter raced off to make your cone, but next to you Matthew’s laughing. “Ever going to try something different?”

“Why should I when I’ve already found the best?” You laugh, accepting your ice cream from the teenager.

He laughs, shaking his head at you fondly, and placing his order- strawberry shortcake with hot fudge- before turning back to you. “How do you know it’s the best if you’ve never even tried any of the rest? You’ve been eating mint chocolate chip on a waffle cone since we were six!”

You smile sweetly at him. “From every bite of yours that I take.”

“Well maybe I just won’t give you one today.” He threatens and you laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” You snort, reaching for your wallet.

Matthew waves you off with his credit card, already passing it over the counter as he accepts his cup of ice cream. You thank him quickly and then reach for his spoon. “No!” He protests, lifting his ice cream out of reach as the two of you start walking away from the counter. “No way! Branch out with your choices! Stop being a thief!”

“Come on! One bite. Please?”

“No! Get your-” He starts, but you reach up to touch the skin on the underside of his arm, just under the sleeve of his t-shirt, already knowing his reaction. “Fuck! Your hands are cold!” His arms come down and you make your move, leaning in to lick at the ice cream in his cup, like you would your cone. He yanks the ice cream away, but it’s way too late, reaction far too delayed this time. 

“Mmmm.” You grin. “But still not better than mint chocolate chip!”

But when you look over at Matthew, he’s got this weird look on his face, something you can’t really place. It takes a few seconds for him to even realize you’ve spoken and he blinks a few times before he responds. “You’re unbelievable.” He finally says but it sounds a little different than before, less like banter and more...serious? But maybe not in a bad way either...

You're not really sure what happened there or how to take that, so you just nudge him with your shoulder and keep walking next to him. “I know.”

-----

While on your run the next morning, Nora texts your group chat about a party that Alex Miller was throwing that night. 

Oh you’re alive?? Bri texts, before confirming that she’ll be there.

Ethan and Jake are quick to pile on with jokes as well, and confirmations, asking about what time they should all arrive. 

There’s a bunch of messages to catch up on when you and Matthew end the cool down to your run with a quick dip in the ocean before you sit on the beach between your houses for a few minutes to dry off. 

“Party tonight?” You look over, eyes caught on a water droplet rolling down Matthew’s bicep as you wait for him to respond.

“Yeah.” Your eyes flicker up to meet his, but thankfully, he’s not looking at you and didn’t catch you staring (this time, at least, because it’s definitely happening more often).

“You don’t sound very excited.”

Matthew sighs, rolling on his side a little to look at you. “Getting bored.” He says, in that way that usually means he’s about to come up with a terrible idea. “Need something new to do.”

It’s only years of summers spent with Matthew that tells you him being bored is bad for you all. He’s too used to moving constantly to sit still and relax like this all the time. “Want to take a boat out one day this week?” You suggest. “Do some water sports?”

His face lights up instantly and you know right away it was the right thing to say. “Tomorrow?”

“You think you’re going to be up for that tomorrow?’ You ask skeptically. “After tonight?”

He hesitates. “Alright, maybe Thursday.”

You burst into laughter and he smiles back at you. “Thursday.” You promise. “Chase’ll be here by then, too. I’m sure he’ll love to come out.”

Matthew looks like a whole new person as he stands up, holding his hand out to help you up. “Great!” He beams, practically lifting you off the sand without any effort from you, a feat that you are very much not thinking about. “Let’s get moving, one day closer to the boat.”

-----

“What’s up?” Matthew asks, as you slip into his side later that night.

Or maybe slip’s not the right word. “Stumble and crash” into his side might be a better description. It’s late now, after all, and you’ve been drinking pretty steadily all night.

“Nora’s trying to set me up with Alex’s friend.” You complain, leaning further into his side as you see said friend approaching you from over his shoulder. “So she’s not ‘alone here’ anymore.”

Matthew’s arm wraps around you tightly. “And you don’t want to hook up with Alex’s friend?”

“No!” You stress, grabbing his cheek and pulling his face in your direction. “Lemme make this clear. No.” You repeat.

Matthew’s laughing, but whether it’s from your vehemence or your drunkenness, you aren’t sure. “Well, he’s still coming over here.” He laughs again, but this time it’s definitely from the look of panic on your face. “Come on, we’ll go grab you a new drink.”

“Life saver.” You tell him, bumping your head against his shoulder and almost immediately reaching for his hand when you start walking to avoid getting lost in the crowd.

“Ugh.” He complains. “That’s the worst candy.” And that’s how you know he might not be as drunk as you but he’s definitely had at least a few. “Can’t I be, like, a Reese’s?”

“Nope.” You’re fighting back a grin, knowing exactly what your next words are going to do to him. “Butterscotch lifesaver.” He fake-gags and you giggle, the reaction exactly what you’d hoped for.

“Even worse!” He shakes his head. “I’m the candy you ignore at your Grandma’s house.”

“We can’t all be Werther’s caramels and Andes mints.” You reason with him.

He turns toward you, full cup of beer in hand, and you reach out for it, but he flicks your nose gently. “You can get your own beer.” He says, grinning. “Butterscotch lifesaver, my ass.”

“Hey!” You’re unable to stop the laughter, even as you look at him in protest. “At least I didn’t call you a strawberry bon bon.”

Matthew acknowledges that with a head tilt and by passing you the beer, before reaching for a new one for himself. “Brady.” You both say at the same time, and then exchange a secret grin.

“It’s the cheeks.” You point at your own. “Always just a li’l cute and red.”

Matthew laughs. “Oh, I’m telling him you said that.” 

You’re back to leaning close to him, hand in his as the two of you try and navigate the crowd again. “Don’t you dare.”

“Strawberry bon bon!” He calls loudly, as you laugh and do your best to shove at him with your shoulder. “Where you at?”

“You’re an asshole.” You laugh.

He only grins at that, because he can definitely hear the fondness in your voice. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one, babe.”

“Not the last time either.” You chirp back.

“Nah.” He laughs. “Probably not.”

Matthew’s lost his good spot by the bonfire by the time you two return so you keep walking and talking, mostly about your brother now and the new girl he’s supposedly bringing with him when he comes into town tomorrow. It’s a nice night tonight, the heat’s kind of broken after a thunderstorm earlier in the afternoon, and as the breeze picks up you find yourself leaning further into him and ducking into corners that might block the wind while ignoring the laughter in Matthew’s eyes once he finally starts to notice what’s you’re doing.

It’s in one of these corners that you notice Alex’s friend again, watching you, and you immediately pull Matthew away to a different spot, only to see that same guy again only a few minutes later.

“What’s wrong?”Matthew interrupts his own story when it’s clear to him that you’re not paying any attention to him.

“That stupid friend of Alex is following us!” 

He turns to glare, you can already see it forming on his face, but you’ve got a better idea. Maybe it’s the booze that makes you think it’s a great idea, or maybe it’s the late hour, but you reach for his turning face and pull him in for a kiss.

Right away, Matthew responds, pulling you closer, and it’s like this entire summer of the two of you just needing to be right there, right next to each other, this magnetic pull yanking you closer, it all comes together. 

It could be minutes, it could be hours when you finally separate. You’re breathing heavily and Matthew is too. “Is-“ You clear your throat. “Is he gone?”

“Who cares?” Matthew asks, and then he pulls you in to kiss you again.

-----

In the morning you wake up still a little dizzy, but whether it’s from the alcohol or the rush of the memory of hooking up with Matthew, you can’t really tell. 

You meet him between your houses for a run just like any other morning anyway.

“Wasn’t really sure about this run today.” You tell Matthew, as you see him waiting for you at the bottom of the driveway.

He cracks up. “What, do I make you that sick now?”

“Not just you.” You say, stomach a little queasy as you start to run.

He must see it on your face because he starts to laugh. “I’ll buy you a gatorade if you can make it to the gas station.”

“I might not.” You tell him. “Buy me one anyway please.”

He does. Your favorite flavor even. And then he sips on his own with you slowly as you walk back toward the beach.

“When’s Chase getting in today?”

You shrug. Chase runs on his own time. “Dinner, maybe?”

“Have you met the new girlfriend yet?”

You shake your head. “She sounds nice though. More than I can say about the last one.”

Matthew looks over, interested. “What happened with the last one?”

You burst into laughter. Oh man, that’s a story.

It’s easy to launch into the drama of Chase and Danielle as the two of you sit there on the beach with your Gatorade’s, sun just on the right side of beating down on you, not quite hot enough yet to be too much. 

Matthew’s laughing by the end of it; it’s hard not to. “I don’t know if I am hoping for less drama.” He says and you glare at him. “It’d be nice to get some entertainment in.”

“I’ll find some other way to entertain you, I promise.” You say dryly.

“Oh now there’s a deal I can get behind.” He grins, eyes sparkling mischievously and you wonder what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

-----

Chase pulls his car into the driveway as your dad is pouring drinks for happy hour and you abandon your drink on the table in favor of throwing yourself at your brother.

He makes like he’s not going to catch you but at the last minute, he lifts you up and squeezes you tightly. “Ah, missed you, squirt.” You stick your tongue out at him-at that detested nickname mostly-and he laughs. “This is Hayley.”

“Hi!” She beams. “It’s so great to meet you; I’ve heard so much about you!” 

You side-eye your brother. “It’s all lies.”

She laughs right away. “Yeah, I’ve got one of those too.”

Immediately you smile, linking arms with her as you pull her into the house, leaving your brother to get their bags. “I’m so excited to meet you!”

“Any help?” Chase calls to you.

You both ignore him.

——-

Outside. 

You know what that means, and you go out to the balcony to see Matthew waiting below.

“Well?” He calls up to you. “How’d it go?”

“I love her.” You tell him, already reaching for the trellis against the siding to climb down to him, waiting in the garden. “She’s amazing. If he doesn’t marry her, I’m going to riot.”

He laughs, arms still up to steady you in your descent; it doesn’t happen often, but a fall or two has been known to occur. “You’ve met her once.”

“Don’t care.” You tell him stubbornly. “She’s a keeper. Where are we going?”

He shrugs. “Wherever you want to go. I just wanted the gossip.” 

“You’ll see her tomorrow, they’re both coming on the boat with us.” You start walking toward the beach.

His entire face lights up. “Boat day!”

“What, did you forget already?” You tease.

“Just excited.” Matthew says and you can feel his excitement, he’s practically vibrating with it.

“What am I going to do with you?” You ask, shaking your head.

He laughs. “Listen, somebody’s gotta keep me entertained, shouldn’t have volunteered for the job when we were six if you didn’t want to be stuck with it when we’re 24.”

“You’re right, didn’t think that one through.” You say dramatically, dramatic enough for him to gently shove your shoulders toward the water. The waves crash on your shoes, but at least he doesn’t send you into the water. “Hey!”

“Oh sorry,” Matthew says mildly, which should have been a big hint. “My mistake.” 

“Yeah, it-“ Next thing you know, he’s lifting you up and walking straight into the ocean. “You asshole!” You cry, the sentiment lost entirely over your laughter as you attempt to clutch at his shoulders, knowing he’s going to drop you as soon as he’s deep enough.

He ducks under a wave instead, your arms still wrapped around his neck and you emerge sputtering and laughing. 

“You asshole!” You repeat, but he’s grinning back at you and you know you’re going to kiss him back before he’s even kissed you.

-----

Chase was more than happy when you’d mentioned that Matthew wanted to bring the boat out on his first full day in town. It was Hayley that had looked a little doubtful when it came up, mentioning she hadn’t been out on a boat before, let alone done any of the water sports you were talking about. 

She’d been game to come out with you all though, just told you and your brother not to expect any promises about any water sports.

“You’re going to love the boat.” Chase had said at dinner, when you were talking about it. “Promise.”

He was right. It hadn’t taken long for her to relax in one of the seats and even less time from that for Brady and Taryn to get her out tubing.

It was Matthew’s turn driving and he’d motioned a moment ago for a new beer, which you’d pretended to ignore for a solid minute until he’d called you out on it. 

“Finally!” He teases, as you pass him a can in a koozy. “What’s the driver got to do to get a beer up here?”

“Not get sand in every crevice imaginable.” You deadpan and he laughs. “Next time, let's at least put a towel down.”

“Oh so there’s going to be a next time?” Matthew grins and you pause. The words had just come out of your mouth, but neither of you had ever said anything about what you’ve done up until now or what you might be going forward. 

“Play your cards right and there might be.” You say finally, settling down on the seat near him.

He winks.

-----

“Hello?” Your mom calls out to announce your family’s arrival, as you all follow her into the Tkachuk’s back patio. “We’re here!”

Chantal immediately leaves Keith alone at the grill and the relief on his face is clear. Matthew is standing right next to him, laughing as he passes back over a beer, but once his mom calls him and his siblings over to say hello, he dutifully follows her tracks.

He pulls you in for a hug as he’s making his rounds and if it feels like he holds you longer than anyone else, that’s definitely your imagination, right?

It must be. He moves right on to Chase and Hayley after that and you’re left with Brady. “Where’s Melissa?” You ask innocently.

“Sh!” He hushes you immediately, looking over to his mom quickly as you laugh, patting his arm.

“Sure, babe.” You tease. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“What secret?” Matthew appears at your side.

“Mom’s birthday present.” Brady lies smoothly, before going off to get himself a drink from the cooler.

Matthew looks over at you as soon as he leaves. “Melissa.” You whisper to him conspiratorially. 

“Ah.” He nods, fighting back a smile. 

“I did notice she didn’t come out on the boat yesterday.” You admit, but you hadn’t really thought to ask about it. “I just didn’t realize he was keeping it down low.” 

He shrugs, leading you over to the beer cooler. “I give it two weeks before he brings her home. I know he likes her and my mom’s suspicious.”

You laugh, accepting the beer he hands you. “Classic Chantal.”

“She’s been in her element this summer.” He agrees.

“She just likes having the whole family around.” You say. Your mom’s been excited about your brother being here since he told her what dates he could come back.

“Speaking of the whole family,” Matthew says. “Did you get roped into golf tomorrow?”

You nod. “Poor Hayley. Doesn’t know what she got herself into when she said she liked to golf.”

“What happens first?” He proposes. “Big Walt claims the whole thing is rigged or Magic Steve whiffs on a shot.”

“If Magic Steve makes it to the eighth hole without whiffing on a shot, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.” You say. “Two hundred bucks. Anything you want. It’s not going to happen.”

Matthew grins and his eyes light up mischievously. “Anything I want, eh? Alright deal.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

——-

Stomach full, plate empty, and a little drowsy, you find yourself leaning into Matthew on the couch you’re sharing with him and Taryn. 

Around you the rest of your families are in similar states and no one seems like they’re in a rush to clean up. The discussion is light but loud, a staple for your families, always having to shout over one another to be heard anytime you all get together, which is probably how your mom and Chantal get away with whispering to each other for so long.

“What are you two up to over there?” Keith asks, finally catching onto them.

“Yeah, that’s never anything good.” Your dad tacks on teasingly. 

“Nothing.” Your mom says, but it’s entirely unconvincing and everyone immediately latches onto it.

“It was!” Chantal insists finally. “We were just talking about those two.” She gestures over to you and Matthew.

“Us?” You repeat.

Your mom nods. “You two and the big summer Cape wedding we’d always dreamed about.”

“Hah!” Brady’s laughing, like the idea of you and Matthew getting married is the most absurd thing he’s ever heard, before your mom is even finished speaking.

“Those two?” Chase is right there with him. 

“Well we know better now!” Chantal says. “I could only be so lucky for Matthew to bring home a girl this nice!”

“Hey!” Matthew protests next to you, but you’re laughing right along with everyone else.

“When one says hello to me, I’ll take it back.” She counters.

He hesitates. “Alright, that’s fair.”

She laughs. “Damn right.”

“Were you really planning our wedding?” You ask them.

“We planned it when you were ten.” Your mom informs you and everyone laughs. “The bridesmaids wore sage, but it has become abundantly clear that wedding will never happen.”

“I mean, we were ten.” You say. “So that wedding was probably never going to happen anyway.”

“Listen, mothers can dream.” Your mom replies.

“And that was a good one.” Chantal adds.

“Don’t worry.” Your dad says reassuringly to Matthew. “I’m sure whatever girl finally says hello to her will be just as good. The bar is pretty low.”

It’s a joke, a pretty good one even, that everyone laughs at, but you and Matthew exchange a brief look, joining in a beat late.

-----

Matthew’s waiting outside your window when you start climbing down the trellis, ready to steady your descent if needed, just like you knew he would be.

When you overestimate the last step, he grabs you, hands remaining on your hips even after he steadies you. 

“Interesting dinner tonight.” You say carefully. Your moms’ words have been drifting in and out of your thoughts since they came up.

Matthew hums as his fingers slide up your side. “Yeah?”

You fight back a gasp as one of his thumbs brushes the underside of your breast. “You don’t think so?”

He smirks and you know you were unsuccessful in holding back your gasp, at least completely. “Oh I thought so.”

“Jerk.” You lean forward to kiss him, but he’s already right there, and for a while, you lose yourself in Matthew. His mouth. The heat of the summer night and how easy it is to just fall into this each time.

When you both pull away, breathing heavy but smiling, neither one of you actually moves away. “Tomorrow?” Matthew asks, thumb still brushing the skin at your hip.

“Again?” You ask, kind of surprised, as you look meaningfully between the two of you.

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Because our moms just married us off at dinner a few hours ago?” You deadpan.

He laughs. “Well we haven’t said anything to them yet. Why change what’s worked?”

You pull a face at him- why would you have said anything to them yet?- and he laughs. He’s not wrong though. What has to change about what you’ve been doing? Because your moms made a joke?

You stick your pinky out to him, like when you were kids, a promise to keep secrets from your parents or siblings that would always end up getting you two in trouble. “Easy breezy.” You say.

Matthew loops his pinky around yours. “Easy breezy.” He agrees, and it feels like every promise you ever made with each other.

-----

Nora appears on the beach with the rest of you, sometime around noon, with a fresh cooler of drinks and some snacks, and takes her roast accordingly.

“You’re alive!” Bri cries dramatically, stealing a fresh White Claw. “Ohh, mango!”

“Ew.” Ethan shakes his head at her, shifting his chair over to make room for Nora. “Mango? C’mon, Nor, you find a boy for a week and you forget the good flavors?”

“Don’t you fucking dare give me shit right now when the next words out of your mouth are about to be lime.” Nora says and you pull your eyes away from watching Matthew playing Kan Jam long enough to laugh. 

“Should we set the over under now?” You tease. “Or later, once their game is done?”

“What over under?” Nora asks.

“Wait until the game’s done.” Bri says. “Gimme some time to think.”

“I think that’s cheating.” Ethan counters.

“If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.” Bri grins, leaning back into her chair more.

“What over under?” Nora demands.

“How long you’ll be gracing us with your presence.” Bri finally tells her and it’s worth it for the look on Nora’s face.

-----

“Beerdie tonight?” Matthew asks on your run the following morning.

“Shotty Taryn.” You grin at the look of outrage on his face and then sprint off ahead so he can’t catch up.

He does though, but by that point, you’re both far enough away from your parents’ houses that when he does, he captures you by the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

“Mmm, not getting a workout in like this.” You tease, when you break the kiss.

He waggles his eyebrows. “I can think of another way we can get a workout in.”

You bust out laughing. It’s just such a lame line, you can’t help yourself. “Oh yeah? Where at?”

Turns out that trellis outside your room can hold Matthew just as well as you.

“Beach today?” You ask him afterwards. He’s still lounging in your bed as you move around your room, looking for the bottom to your bathing suit.

He pulls a face. “I guess.”

You laugh. “Boat tomorrow?”

That lights him up and serves to get him moving, just as you find your bottom and slip into it. “And just as I was enjoying the view.” He jokes, slipping past you with a playful pat on the ass and a kiss.

“Tragic.” You tell him, sarcasm clear. “What are you-” You stop yourself as you hear your mom’s voice getting louder and you watch Matthew’s eyes widen, sure that your face must be mirroring his.

Neither of you moves as her footsteps grow louder, her voice carrying her side of the conversation through the hall. 

And then, the sound of the door shutting, and muffled silence. She must be getting ready for the day.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, watching Matthew do the same. “I’ll see you soon.” You tell him, walking the few feet with him over to the trellis.

He grins; it’s somehow just as carefree as it was a few moments ago. “Looking forward to it. Bring beer.”

“Ugh it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

He grins, poised to climb down the trellis. “Yup.”

“Fuck.” You scrunch your face up. One more thing to remember. “You going to be okay to climb down that?”

But he’s already at the bottom, looking up at you with a mischievous grin, and for the first time this summer, you realize you may be in trouble. 

-----

“No.” Jake shakes his head, when Nora suggests heading to a party of one of her friends on the other side of the Cape. “No. Too far.”

She huffs at him. “Well then what do you want to do?”

“Can we just go to the bar?” He asks, almost pleadingly. “For God’s sake, we spent years dying to get into one and now that we all can, we haven’t been once.”

“Thank you!” Matthew cries. “I thought nobody was going to say it.”

“Why didn’t you say it?” You ask him.

“I-” He trails off and you grin at him, laughing when he just flips you off.

“Alright then.” Jake nods, like everything’s settled. “9pm, to the bars.”

“9?” Nora cries in disbelief, but she’s ready by 9:10, which is basically a record for her. 

Jake has laid out a whole plan for the night, a crawl through the town bars, but once you make it into the first one, you’re pretty sure that none of you are making it to his second stop.

Bri drags you and Nora out on the dance floor the second you get drinks and you lose yourself there for a while, or at least until your drink is empty. You ditch the girls for a refill, shimmeying your way through the crowd up to Ethan, Brady, and Melissa at the bar to place your order.

“Where’s your brother?” You ask and Brady rolls his eyes.

“Over there.” He points. “Being his usual…” But you don’t hear the rest of his sentence, too focused on the girls Matthew and Jake are talking with. Or more specifically, the girl Matthew’s talking with, the one who’s looking up at him while she twirls her hair and laughs at whatever he just said. 

Matthew’s allowed to do whatever he wants. You just talked about this. And, maybe more importantly, if you want to keep this thing between the two of you quiet, he should go off and do whatever he wants.

And you should too.

But judging by the sinking feeling in your stomach, the only thing you want is on the other side of the bar, talking with a pretty blonde.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you rush back to Bri and Nora, eager to try and forget what’s happening behind you. But you just don’t have it in you when a few guys approach the three of you and after one song, you find yourself back at the bar with Ethan, Brady, and Melissa for another round, unsure if you’re happy or not when you realize you can no longer see Matthew from where you’re standing.

“Gonna head home.” Ethan says, after he finishes his drink.

“Oh, I’ll come!” You down the last bit of your own.

He gives you a look. “You sure?”

“Mhm.” You nod, hugging Brady and Melissa goodbye. “Exhausted. Ready for bed.”

Ethan laughs as he holds the door open for you. “A college graduate and suddenly you’re an old lady. Ready for bed by 11?”

“Grandma status.” You laugh along with him, keeping the joke running as you wait for your Uber, so he won’t press any further, and it’s only much later that you realize how strange it is for him to be leaving so early.

-----

“Where’d you go last night?” Matthew asks, when you meet for your morning run. “I looked for you when I was leaving, Brady said you’d already left.”

You try to hide your surprise. You’d really just assumed he’d gone home-or at least gone somewhere- with that girl last night. “I left with E.” You’ve never seen his head move as fast as it turns toward you at that. “Whiplash much?” You laugh. “He was leaving so I left too. I was tired.” 

Matthew shakes his head. “Yeah, uh-” He shakes it again. In past years, that would have sent his curls flying in all different directions; this year, his hair’s too short for anything like that. It’s a good look for him. “Yeah, no, I just didn’t see you leave.”

You purse your lips, fighting back a frown. “Guess you just weren’t looking.” You shrug.

“Doubt it.” He mutters, or at least you think that’s what he says, because he changes the subject before you can ask. 

-----

A few days later, a round of storms roll in, and by lunchtime your mom is shooing you out of the house. “But it’s raining.” You whine at her. “What can I even do?”

“Are you 22 years old or not?” She frowns, guiding you away from the tile and cabinet samples. “How did you entertain yourself at school?”

“I literally didn’t, I was never alone!”

“Well you don’t have to be now either!” She smiles at you. “You go next door; send Chantal over here for some peace and quiet.”

Chantal is more than happy to trade places with you when you arrive, stopping only long enough to grab a bottle of wine for her and your mom to split, and you laugh as you close the door behind her, before looking for Matthew.

He’s not hard to find, the sound of him and his siblings quickly coming up from the basement as you start walking in the house.

“Fuck yeah!” Matthew grins when he sees you. Brady and Taryn are, as usual, ganging up against him in bubble hockey. “Let’s go, right here, come on.”

In classic older brother fashion, Matthew resets the score to zero once you get settled in your spot and he assigns you your handles, completely ignoring his siblings’ protests about how they were winning (and handily). And then, with an extra set of hands, he (and you) begin to dominate.

In public, both Matthew and Brady are gracious winners and losers. There’s light trash talk and playful teasing before their games and hugs and catching up afterwards. 

But in private? They go cutthroat.

So it quickly devolves into Matthew against Brady while you and Taryn watch and giggle from the side, occasionally calling out comments of your own and then laughing again at the snide looks they send you in return.

It’s not long before Matthew’s celebrating his victory-loudly and uninhibited- and Brady’s rolling his eyes, and wandering off upstairs. 

“God, you’re annoying.” Taryn says.

Matthew ruffles her hair and she scrunches her nose at him. “Part of my charm.”

“Mm.” She hums. “You tell yourself that.” And then she’s heading upstairs as well, leaving just you and Matthew behind.

“Well at least one of you thinks I’m charming.” Matthew grins at you.

“Oh.” You pull a face at him. “I don’t remember ever saying that.”

Matthew’s tackling you onto the couch practically before you finish speaking, kissing the laughter right out of you. It’s easy to get lost the same way you have been the last few weeks, when he’s pressing you into the couch, lips moving over yours, warm palm spread over bare skin.

It’s only when you feel like the entire world is spinning and you’re dizzy enough to pass out from it that you pull away. Everything settles a little, but still you feel caught in Matthew’s orbit, a feeling that you’ve noticed happening more and more often. Matthew’s thumb brushes against your ribcage, breathing heavily, and it’s only when he moves back in to kiss you again that you notice it’s both of you, barely able to catch your breath but still ducking in for more.

“Matth-” You try to breathe. It doesn’t do much good as Matthew just moves to kissing down your jaw. “Your siblings.”

“They won’t come down again.” He says, almost absentmindedly, clearly more focused on other things.

“They-” You start to say, but he shuts you up pretty quickly and luckily, he ends up not being wrong.

-----

“That’s what you wear?” Matthew mutters to you, almost too low. You have to strain to hear him over the wind, from where the two of you are sitting in the front of the boat, shoved there by your mom when Chase and Hayley had showed up unexpectedly a day early for Fourth of July week, a week traditionally filled with outings on the boat, barbecues, and family competition. 

You look down. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

He stares at you in disbelief. “We’re out here on a family boat day. And that’s what you show up in? Are you trying to kill me?”

You laugh. “Depends on what you left me in your will.”

He chuckles. “What I leave you in the will? You’ve been getting me into trouble since we were six years old and you think I’m leaving you anything in my will?”

You bust out laughing. “I’ve been getting you into trouble since we were six? Reverse that there, buddy.”

But Matthew’s shaking his head the entire time, fondly smiling like you’re missing the point entirely. 

-----

Selection night for the Beach Olympics takes place on a Sunday, as it always does, but this time it’s about ten times rowdier than it ever has been, with almost all of the kids being legal to drink and Taryn hiding the seltzer that Brady snuck her in a Sprite can

Keith holds his hat up high, filled with paper slips with numbers written on them. “Who’d like to go first?”

“I think as last winners, it’s our right!” Chase says and then gestures Chantal forward to pick before him.

The look on their faces as they draw their numbers, pleading to get the same again, and then revealing different ones is hilarious, but you barely have time to laugh at their reactions (Chantal’s face falling and Chase letting out a loud “Fuck!”) before it’s your turn. 

Your “5” doesn’t match either your brother’s “2” or Chantal’s “3” so you watch as the hat makes its way around pairing everyone up, until finally Matthew makes his choice and when his face lights up just before he meets your eyes, you don’t even need him to show your families the little slip he’s pulled to know that he’s got your matching “5.”

“Unfair!” Brady cries, even as he already sits next to his mom, his Beach Olympic partner for the next week, and she shoves him off the stool he’s sitting on. “What?” He looks at her. “C’mon!”

“Talk to me when you’re a Beach Olympic champion.” She says, purposefully adopting a haughty tone and you all laugh, as Taryn begins prepping the tiny toy flags.

Matthew moves next to you, nudging your side and grinning throughout the draft of countries. It’s hard to stifle your giggles, both of you laughing the entire time, the last team to draft, and watching as Taryn and your mom select Spain (because of the wine your mom was drinking currently), allowing Chase and your dad to snatch America up. Brady and Chantal select Canada, to no one’s surprise, and then Keith and Hayley pick Italy.

“We’ll be eating pasta only for the rest of the week.” He jokes, reaching for their toy flag, and she laughs but also looks like she’s not sure if he’s kidding or not.

“What do you think?” Matthew whispers to you, nudging your side again. “Mexico? Iceland?”

“The bad guys from Mighty Ducks 2? I don’t think so.” You quote a favorite show of the two of you and he grins immediately.

“Germany.” The two of you say simultaneously. “They’ve never been the bad guys in anything!” 

Matthew holds the tiny toy flag about his head as he makes the short walk back over to you and the rest of your families’ groan, but you only laugh, sure that sound is going to become familiar over the next few days.

-----

“C’mon, baby.” Matthew coaches, crouched in a ready position near the Kan Jam bin and it’s just one more day of easy affection, one more pet name falling out of his mouth that you can’t even react to. “Right here, give her to me, nice and easy.”

“You got nothing.” Your dad scoffs. “Weak flex.”

You grin at him, winding up to throw the frisbee; if it hits the can at all before Matt touches it, you and Matthew will lose points and that just won’t do. 

You release the frisbee, watching it arc and following Matthew’s eyes. He lunges once it gets close, throwing himself onto the sand to smack the frisbee into the can.

You cheer, loudly, as he hits it against the side and then the frisbee lands on the sand. 

Matthew’s whooping, just as loud, and running to meet you in the middle with his arms open, ready to catch you as you leap into his arms. He catches you when you jump up, spinning around a few times, and still cheering. 

“Ugh.” Your brother shakes his head. “This is just annoying now.”

“How are you this in sync?” Brady agrees.

You shrug as Matthew puts you back on the ground, but you don’t wander far from him. You haven’t all week, your partnership for the week a convenient excuse to have to be close to him…not that you really want to be apart from him. 

And all the time you’ve been spending together this summer has definitely been beneficial for your chemistry. Brady wasn’t wrong. You and Matthew had always been a pretty good team, your years of friendship translating well into team games, but now? This week you seemed unstoppable, midway through the week and already collecting a first or second place medal in every event so far. 

Puting you well in first place for the week, with each game the two of you only looking better and better. It was quickly driving your families’ nuts.

“Just the dream team, baby.” Matthew grins, finally answering his brother, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you when he says it, so it’s hard not to think that he’s talking to you and even harder to avoid the flutter in your stomach when he says baby.

No one else is looking at you this time, at least. They can’t see if you blush. 

-----

For the fourth time this week, you say goodnight to your parents, go upstairs, and immediately climb down the trellis to the garden to meet Matthew.

“This feels ridiculous.” You complain to him, even as you feel the rush of seeing him, the thrill of this thing between only you. “I feel like we’re sixteen again and sneaking off to go drink at a party we’re not supposed to be at.”

“Doesn’t the secret make it kind of fun?” He asks, but only after he kisses you, which is definitely unfair. You had a point to make, but it’s gone entirely.

What’s that saying about secrets? Secrets are no fun...you can’t remember the rest anyway. “Easy breezy.” Instead, you echo your last promise, because that you can remember, made from this same spot, and Matthew links your pinky’s together at your sides as he moves in for another kiss.

-----

Closing ceremonies for the Beach Olympics takes place out on the boat, as usual, and you stand smugly between Brady and your dad, with a bottle of champagne and a smirk on your face.

“Show off.” Your dad says, shaking his head. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s unbecoming to brag like that?”

“Like this?” You bite one of the-many-fake medals hanging around your neck, far more than anyone else on the boat...except Matthew, that is. 

Brady groans. “Fuck off.” He whines, definitely still bitter about his loss at bocce. 

But whatever he and your dad say next is lost to you, because Matthew’s caught your eye. He’d seen you joking with your dad, apparently, because he’s grinning when he catches your eye and then lifts one of his medals up to mimic what you’ve just done.

It’s hard not to laugh, feeling such fondness for him deep in your chest that it hurts almost, even as your dad and his brother look at you like you’re crazy, because he’s back to talking with his mom and looking completely normal by the time they turn around.

“What?” Brady presses again.

“It’s.-” You shake your head, because this feeling is so familiar but you just can’t place it. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

It’s just another thing between you and Matthew.

-----

“You got sand in my hair.” You groan, fixing your shirt as you sit up, reaching for one of the bottles of champagne you’d been sipping on since the celebration with your families earlier in the evening.

“Sorry.” Matthew says dryly. “Did you want to be on top next time?” You pull a face and he laughs, like he already knew the answer to that. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Not on the beach.” You shove his shoulder. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I can track you down a bed.” He says thoughtfully. 

“Fuck off.” You pull the champagne away from him, laughing. “Ass.”

He waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Oh, that’s on the table?”

“Oh my god!” You groan, but you’re still laughing. “I hate you so much.”

“Nah.” Matthew says confidently, and you can’t look away from him as he says, “You love me.”

You love me. It rings in your head as he steals the champagne bottle from you, and again as he helps you stand up, brushing the sand from your legs. It’s still echoing as the two of you walk back towards your houses, as Matthew sneaks into the garden with you, and helps you begin your climb up the trellis. 

It’s stuck in your head the entire climb up, it’s there as you turn back to face him, it’s there as you watch him smile back up at you now that he’s sure you made it to the top, and it’s there as you wave goodnight to each other and he starts walking back home.

“I’m fucking in love with you.” You realize out loud and Matthew turns, grinning up at you.

“What was that?” He calls back.

“Nothing.” You call back helplessly. “Nothing at all.” You repeat to yourself, turning away from him to go into your room before he sees the look on your face.

-----

Almost immediately following that realization, Matthew announces to you on your run he’ll be going to Toronto soon for a few days for a camp.

“Oh.” You say, kind of relieved. A few days to collect your thoughts and feelings actually sounds...nice. “When do you leave?”

“Not until Thursday.” He frowns. “And Big Walt and Chantal are even away at a wedding this weekend. Damn it, we could have had a bed.”

“Anal’s still not on the table.” You deadpan and he laughs so hard he has to stop running.

“Anything you want.” He promises, when he can finally stand up fully again and start running. “We’ve been good; nothing needs to change.”

It’s not until later that night, when you’re at the bar with all your friends, and Ethan and you are hanging at one end of the bar while Matthew and Jake are again out around the floor making the rounds, that you realize why that statement irked you.

You want something to change. 

-----

“Are you okay?” Bri gives you a look

It’s been a few days since realizing this casual, friends with benefits, “easy breezy” thing with Matthew wasn’t enough. And despite that, you’d done nothing different. You’d woken up each morning the same as every other one this summer to meet him for a run, ducking off the side of the path for kisses and then slipping away as he chases after you. Afternoons on the beach, sneaking glances through your sunglasses, pretending you don’t see him looking back at you, hoping your friends think the flush of your cheeks is from the sun and not recognizing it for the blush that it actually is. Pretending you were meeting friends at night when you were meeting Matthew instead, sneaking back in through the gate, like you were 16 again and trying not to wake your dad as you crept back in the house drunk off whatever cheap beer you could get your hands on (entirely different from how you stumble back home now, still drunk off whatever attention Matthew will give you, head still woozy with every kiss he pressed to your lips and the words he muttered to you between them).

“No, seriously.” She continues. “Are you okay?”

“Yup.” You giggle, reaching for your drink again. “Why?”

“I just haven’t seen you drink like this, I don’t know, maybe all summer?” She says.

Your jaw drops, outraged. “That’s not fair!” You cry. “I’ve had plenty to drink this summer! So many hangovers!”

“That...that’s not what I said at all.” She rubs her temples. “You just haven’t been drinking at this pace all summer.”

“I’m fine.” You tell her and she gives you a look as she pushes a cup of water toward you. “See?” You drain the entire cup and stick your tongue at her. “Fine.”

She laughs fondly, picking up her own drink. “If you say so, babe. Back to dancing?”

“Good 4 u!” You cry in excitement, leading her away from the bar, throwing your joined hands up in the air as you do.

“No, they’ve already played-” Bri shakes her head. “Nope, not worth it.”

Nora’s right where the two of you left her on the dance floor- with her boy of the week, who’s name you could not remember if your life depended on it. You last another song or two, begging Bri to let you go up and request your newest favorite song and being denied each time, before you get bored again, and wander off in search of your other friends. 

“Whastsa matter with you?” You frown, poking at Ethan’s sour face.

Brady pulls his head away from whispering to Melissa just long enough to say, “He’s just been sitting here being a grinch all night.”

You swipe the untouched drink in front of Ethan away from him for yourself, giggling as he doesn’t even attempt to stop you. “Christmas in July isn’t until next week, silly!”

That gets Ethan to crack a smile, finally, as he laughs at you. “What?” He grins again, before his face falls back into a frown.

You frown, turning unsubtly to follow his eyes but you can’t see anything worth frowning about. You wave when you see Nora and she laughs, waving back, and only when you wave back even more ridiculously do you turn back to the table. 

“Cheer up buddy.” Brady’s saying when you do, even as Melissa rolls her eyes. “They’ll be back soon. Those girls aren’t going home with them.”

Your breath catches in your throat, as you whip back around, missing Ethan’s response entirely. But sure thing, there’s enough of a cut in the crowd to see now, there’s Jake and Matthew with those girls. The same ones they’ve been chatting up every time you’ve been to this bar all summer. Right away, your thoughts are racing about what Jake and Matthew could have been doing with these girls all night long, while you were sure to keep your distance from him.

Well, specifically, what Matthew has been doing with the girl while you were staying away from him so no one could see the feelings written all over your face. The one you see laughing at all his jokes when the four of them are talking together, with ridiculous eyelashes that she bats up at him, and an equally crazy body that absolutely no one should be able to attain.

“Hey.” Melissa says quietly, studying your face, and it feels like she’s been doing that to all of you all summer, watching you to get a better sense of who you all are and where she fits. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Just time for another drink, I think. I’ll be back.” 

You’re off to the bar before she can even follow, before one of the boys notices you’re missing, and it’s only when you’re crowded in between a dozen strangers trying to get the attention of the bartender do you feel like you can breathe again.

-----

“It’s time to go!” Bri tugs on your arm gently. “Come on, babe!”

“No.” You whine, dragging out the word. “I’m-” You hiccup. “-having fun.”

She looks at you in disbelief. “Flagged. Let’s go.”

“No!” You whine again. “All my friends are here.”

“All your friends are leaving.” Ethan says gently. “We’re right here.”

“They’re not!” You look over your shoulder wildly for Matthew, eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. “They’re not leaving!”

“We are!” Bri sighs. “Even Nora’s leaving. See,” She turns your head. “She’s waving!” 

“But-“ You wave back slowly. “That’s-“

“Everybody’s leaving.” Bri continues. “Or they’re already gone.” You feel numb as she takes your hand to pull you out of the bar, toward the Uber that Ethan has called. Their mindless chatter rolls over you as Bri’s words echo in your head and you leap to a place you don’t want to be in. That everyone else was already gone. That Matthew was already gone and that he left without saying goodbye.

The tears are rolling down your face before you even know what’s happening and suddenly you can’t stop. You’re hiccuping in the back of the Uber, crying huge crocodile tears that just keep rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh babe.” Bri says sympathetically, as the Uber driver looks back at you in the mirror skeptically.

“What’s wrong?” Jake frowns, looking over at you.

“I’m fine!” You sob.

“You’re crying in an Uber, sure, yeah, that’s what people who are notoriously fine do.” Ethan says dryly.

“Not helping.” Bri hisses to him, rubbing your back gently.

“I’m fine.” You sob again, even though he’s right, and it couldn’t be further from the truth.

-----

Midway through your run on the morning of the day Matthew is leaving for the weekend, he makes an abrupt turn off your usual path and continues running.

“Matthew!” You shout after him, stopped at the corner.

“Are you coming?” He calls back, not stopping his jog to look back at you.

You huff, but then take off after him, practically sprinting to catch up, and then having to ease back into a jog when he doesn’t pick up the pace. You have no idea what his plan is, why he turned off your usual route, or why he decided to go down this road instead of following your usual path to lead to the beaches between your houses, and he’s giving you no hints, so you’re stuck following him at this almost leisurely pace. 

He turns again, almost cutting you off, and then again, almost losing you when he cuts abruptly through a spot in some tall grass, leading finally to a very long wooden dock. You can’t even see where it leads to when you climb the steps up, but you follow him dutifully, slowing to a walk as he does the same. “Where are we going?” You ask again, falling into step with him, on the boards just wide enough for the two of you, the long path crossing over shrubbery and small pockets of salt water.

“Just wait a sec.” Matthew chides playfully. “You’ll see in a minute.”

“Ugh.” You whine, never patient enough, and he laughs, bumping your shoulder.

“It’ll be worth it.” He promises.

“Big promises.” You tease haughtily, but you’re eating those words as soon as you reach the end of the pier.

There’s a few steps to actually get down to the beach but you stop right at the edge of them, taking in the view in front of you The beach itself is empty, unsurprising maybe, for what you had to do to get here, but it’s peaceful- just you and Matthew, standing maybe a little too close but neither of you doing anything about it. To the left, the beach thins for a bit, the ocean spanning an endless stretch. To the right, off in the distance, your houses, on the horizon with some other familiar landmarks. 

“How’d you find this?” You ask, stuck between being breathless and grinning. The view is amazing but more than that; something about being in this place, with Matthew, standing with your shoulders brushing against each other just feels special. 

Fuck, it’s literally just a beach with a different view of your houses; you need to get this feelings shit under control.

“Brady and I found it years ago.” Matthew smiles softly, like it’s a fond memory. “Before it was all overgrown like that.”

“I like it.” You say, and then clarify. “The overgrown. It’s kinda cool.”

“A little character.” Matthew agrees. 

“More private too, I’m sure.”

“That too.” He smirks, purposefully bumping your shoulder so you laugh, which you do, before the two of you settle into a comfortable silence.

“What time do you leave today?” You ask finally, the question that’s been weighing on you since he even told you he was going.

“Too soon.” He grimaces, looking down at his watch. 

“Oh.”

“It’s always too soon.” He says, reaching for your waist and pulling you close.

“Don’t even tell me you’re not packed yet.” You chide, but you’re looping your arms around his neck as you speak and you can see the smirk growing across his face.

“Alright, I won’t.” He says and then he’s kissing you before you can lecture any further.

——-

“What’s wrong with you?” You flop down next to Ethan on the beach a few days later, holding your hand out expectantly for him to pass you a drink.

He takes his sweet time, slowly reaching into the cooler for a White Claw, and eyeing you carefully when he passes it over. “What’s wrong with me? You haven’t stopped moving since your partner in crime left the country for a few days. I could ask you the same thing!”

Your breath catches and your heart starts racing. You swore you’d been so careful this summer, that none of your friends had even noticed an change in either of you. “I’m crimeless.” You babble, playing off the joke. “I’ve had to be good for four whole days now.” You tease, but Ethan’s not even listening anymore, and you follow his eyes to watch Nora fall against another boy of the week after they score a point in volleyball, and you think maybe this isn’t about you at all.

——-

Matthew somehow manages to balance a bottle of Pink Whitney in his hands while climbing up your trellis and onto the balcony. 

“You weren’t even going to get up and give me a hand?” He flops down on the bed next to you, nudging for your attention with his shoulder, his elbow, his words.

You hold your Kindle up lamely in his direction. “I’m at a really good part.”

He opens the bottle and holds it out for you to take a swig. “Lame.”

“I guess you don’t want to hear all my gossip then.” You sigh dramatically, already grinning before you even finish your sentence, knowing his reaction. 

He doesn’t disappoint. “Gossip?” His ears perk up and he looks over at you, taking the bottle back for his turn. “Details, come on.”

You giggle. “Mmm, I don’t know if I should.” Matthew pokes your side, right in the spot he knows you’re most ticklish. “Stop that!” You slap at his hand.

“Never!” He does it again, then again, and then again, and then he’s rolling on top of you, and both your book and your gossip about Ethan and Nora are long forgotten as he yanks his own shirt off and then yours only a moment after.

——-

Nora’s newest man is having a party on his yacht for a bunch of his friends and she swings you all an invite.

“I’ve made some very wrong decisions in my life.” Melissa says as soon as you, her, Matthew, and Brady arrive, eyeing the yacht, the staff member waiting to greet you, and how Nora is waving eagerly at you from the deck.

“Now’s your time to find an upgrade.” Matthew quips, only barely avoiding spilling the Bellini he was just handed when Brady elbows him in the ribs.

Melissa looks both vaguely horrified and amused, but you, used to their antics, roll your eyes. “If you break that $200,000 vase, you’re going to be sorry.”

“That vase costs $200,000?” Brady lowers his voice as you start to approach the upper deck and the rest of the party, but it doesn’t manage to hide his shock.

“One eighty nine, nine, I think, if you want to get technical, but,” You shrug. You’d seen it last week with your mom when you were out shopping with her for the remodel. “Basically, yeah.”

Brady still hasn’t managed to wipe the look of shock off his face when Nora throws herself at you. She gets you and Matthew in one go, him steadying the three of you as she laughs, definitely already tipsy. “You’re here!” She beams.

“And now I might never leave.” You look around you. 

Nora waggles her eyebrows. “That’s fine; Tom’s got a brother.”

You laugh. “Sure, okay. And when you break up with Tom next week and I’m here alone with the brother?”

“You’ll still have a yacht.” Melissa jokes.

“Good point.” You grin at her.

“Nor, where’s the bar?” Matthew interrupts before any of you can make any more jokes about Nora trying to set you up again. 

“Right here!” She chirps, leading you all through the crowd to the bar, where Bri and Jake are already posted up. “I’ll be back soon!” She promises, after ordering a drink with you.

“Sure, ok.” Jake rolls his eyes at her and she grins at him before slipping through the crowd.

“No E?” Matthew asks, swirling the ice around his bourbon. 

Bri shrugs. “He said he was busy today.”

“Huh.” Matthew says and abruptly you remember you never got a chance to tell him your theory about Ethan and Nora. “He didn’t mention anything yesterday.” 

“Probably came up suddenly.” You say and then ask the bartender for a round of shots, because you can relate to loving someone who doesn’t love you back, whether Ethan knows it or not, and there’s a sense of solidarity it gives you.

——-

“Yacht parties fucking rule.” Melissa decides, an hour or two in, definitely tipsy on champagne drinks, and grinning each time someone walks around with trays of snacks.

You laugh. “I fucking love you.” You smack a kiss to her cheek.

She giggles again. “I fucking love you guys too. This has been such a fun summer.”

“Yeah, we’re fun fucking people!” Bri beams, getting a little too excited and spilling the last little bit of her drink. “Oops.”

“It was time for another one anyway.” You assure her and she grins.

“That’s my girl!” She stands, pointing at you and Melissa. “You better be done with those by the time I get back with another round!”

You drain yours before she even turns around. “Ready whenever!”

She cheers and parts the crowd, leaving you and Melissa. “Have you seen the boys lately?” You ask, scanning the crowd.

“They were playing shuffleboard earlier.” She looks behind her. “But I don’t see them now.”

You do. Or well, you see Matthew at least, still at the shuffleboard table, laughing at whatever the beautiful girl next to him just said. She’s one of those girls, the ones that make everyone feel inadequate the second she walks in the room, so of course she’s funny too.

Your stomach twists as Matthew laughs again and it’s not because you’ve had too much to drink. In fact, you think, as your stomach twists again watching Matthew lean in closer to that girl, you’re pretty sure you haven’t had enough to drink.

——-

“Where are we going?” You giggle as Matthew tugs on your hand, leading you down an empty hallway below the main party. 

He gives you a look. “Come on, really?” He puts his ear up to a closed door and makes a face; you giggle again, but don’t have much time to follow up about why because he's pulling you down the hall to the next door, listening again, and then pulling you inside. As soon as the door closes, you press against him, not sure who kisses who first, only certain that you need more, more, more of him. 

You can’t seem to get close enough to him, even when he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands teasing the ends of the hair that’s just starting to grow out. Matthew’s hands roam, one hand caressing your cheek and then sliding lower down your back and then teasing lightly along your rib cage, like he can’t decide what he wants. 

“Been waiting for this all day.” He breathes out, pressing kisses down your jawline. “Can’t get enough of this.”

You nod eagerly. You too. You could have been doing this all day, couldn’t you? What was stopping you? 

It’s hard to think as Matthew kisses you again, but you do pause, until his hands reach around to untie your bathing suit top. “Holy shit.” He mutters as it falls to the ground, eyes wide, and as flattering as it is, that moment apart is enough for you to remember why you weren’t doing this earlier.

And how, at the end of the day, you were still in love with someone who didn’t love you back. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

You don’t even realize you’ve said anything until Matthew stops, until he’s staring at you in confusion, until he’s stepping away and you have to catch yourself on the door handle. 

“Ok yeah-“He babbles. “No, I’m sorry,  I didn’t mean to pull you away-yeah, of course we can stop-we-“

“I don’t-“You start, annoyed he didn’t get it, that this is the one thing he hasn’t been on the same page about all summer, that this is really the one fucking thing you actually have to explain to him; and it feels like tears are coming, but you fight them back. “No, that’s not-This isn’t easy anymore! This isn’t the simple thing we were doing, Matty!”

“I don’t-” Matthew cuts off abruptly, running his fingers through the curls that have just started to grow back. “I don’t want to screw up if we try harder.”

We’re not trying, you want to say. We’ve barely been trying, want to scream. Instead, you reach down and gather your top, tying it back up and leaving him still gaping.

Every day it seems like you fall deeper for him, find something else about him that you want to wrap up and keep close to you, before the memories of this fade away, just as the summer always does, pulling Matthew-and your relationship- away with it.

—--

“You know, you can’t avoid him forever.” Ethan drops down into the chair next to you, and only when you’re sure he’s alone, do you open your eyes from the nap you were pretending to take.

“Avoid who?” You say, too quickly to even feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers, signaling for you to hand him a drink. “But if I were avoiding someone, I’d say you’d be severely underestimating my ability to commit to the bit.”

He laughs. “Alright, that’s a good point.”

“Should watch out for that glass house, too.” You say, and he takes a minute to press his cold can against your skin as payback before he opens it.

“Alright.” Ethan says finally, almost reluctantly. “I’ll talk if you do.”

You side-eye him, looking to see how serious he is. “Matthew and I have been hooking up all summer, except I’m in love with him and he’s only in it for the fun and games.” You wave the fingers of your free hand around sarcastically. “If it’s not easy breezy fucking Cover Girl…’

Ethan gives you a look. “Do you need another drink?” You do and he waits patiently for you to dig for a new White Claw and open it before saying, “Nora and I hooked up this year at school.” You choke on your new drink, the carbonation going down hard, and Ethan laughs hollowly. “I thought it’d be fine. It was. We’d get here, it’d be like any other summer.” He trails off, but you don’t need him to continue. 

You’ve been living it.

“Easy breezy.” You hold your can out for him to cheers against. “Seems so simple.”

“Easy breezy.” He clinks his can against yours.

“Shit.” You see Matthew and Brady walking out of the ocean, still talking and hopefully distracted enough still to notice you still. “Gotta go.”

Ethan’s cackle might have given you away though. That, or the one flip flop you left behind in your haste to get away in time.

——-

You manage to successfully avoid Matthew for four days before he takes the matter into his own hands. 

It’s not long after dinner, another burger night at the club with your parents where even they had commented on how they haven’t seen him for a few days, a conversation that made you want to crawl under the table and die, but instead only left you just on the wrong side of tipsy.

Maybe it’s because of that that Matthew tumbling into your room via the trellis comes as such a surprise.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasp, climbing out of bed to run over to him. “What the fuck?”

“I’m fine.” He says, standing up and brushing non-existent dirt off his shoulders. “Thanks for asking.”

“I’ve made that fall many times. Stop milking it.” Matthew grins back at you and now you know for sure that he’s fine. Which brings you back to your initial reaction. “What are you doing here?”

He gives you a look. “How else was I supposed to see you? You know, considering you’ve been avoiding me.” He pulls your flip flop out of his pocket. “I have your shoe, by the way.”

“Oh, I’ve been looking for this.” You say lamely.

“Jesus Christ.” He snickers and you can’t help but laugh. At least it breaks the tension a little, or at least it does, until Matthew stops laughing to smile at you instead, long enough that you stop laughing too.

“What?” You ask, the laugh still kind of fading away with the word.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It just feels like it’s been forever since I’ve heard you laugh like that now.”

And then it’s abrupt, the return of the tension. You feel your shoulders hike up, almost defensively, and Matthew’s eyes flash. “Not a lot of reason to laugh lately, I guess.”

He sighs, looking almost defeated. “What? What is it?” You shake your head. “Just tell me! Come on.” And you know what? If that’s how he wants to play it, fine. He’s the one that’s so concerned with screwing it up, then he can pick up the pieces too.

“I love you!” You laugh hollowly, a little vindicated with how many emotions wash over his face at your words. Good. You’ve been pushing them down deep for weeks; he can work on them for a bit now. “Isn’t that the worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard?”

“No.” Matthew says quietly. “It’s really not.”

“What?” You frown, but he’s crossing the room and kissing you before you can say anything else.

“I messed up the other day.” Matthew kisses you again. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s kissing you like this, so you step away. “I don’t-I don’t want to screw up with you if we try harder. Because you mean too much to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t want to lose you either, but I can’t. I can’t keep this secret anymore.”

“I know.” He says. “I told my mom; she’s waiting to have drinks with us.” He’s so serious that your jaw drops for a second, but then he cracks a grin. 

“You ass-oh my god!” You groan. “No, not again.

Matthew’s grinning as he steps closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. “Dunno, that joke might never get old.”

“We’re breaking up.” You declare, which is a little hard to do as he’s in the middle of trying to kiss you again. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Nah.” He teases you. “You love me.”

“Worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard.” You agree, finally allowing him to kiss you how he wants.

“Best fucking thing.” He corrects. “I love you, too.”

[aziraphales-library]

Hiii! First of all I wanted to thank you all for the amazing work that you do. Your suggestions are always on point. Now, for the question, I was wondering if you know any fics that are similar to secondhand smoke. Maybe about Catholic guilt and/or coming out? Thank you :))

Hello! We have a #religious guilt tag you might be interest in. Here are some religious conflict/coming out fics...

Cappucchino Readings - A "Good Omens" Univeristy AU by Jelly_Jenkins (T)

When Aziraphale took the job at the campus library, he didn't think anything of it. Of course he was excited to make some extra money and such, but he never expected to get out so much more.

The Day You Eat of It by K1ngB (E)

It all started as it will end... at a summer camp (with strangely religious undertones). In Aziraphale's mind, the best part of summer was those two weeks spent with the children. Just as eager to absorb new information and experiences as he was to teach the next generation same as he was at this same camp nearly ten years ago. A lot has changed since then, namely the amount of blatant proselytizing but some things always stay the same. In Crowley's mind, he gets to see the apple of his eye for two weeks every year, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make the most of it. He sustains himself on the discreet glances, the creeping blushes, and the inevitable banter of his favorite camp counselor. He is prepared for the long game and was nailing it if he was being honest... And then he got caught wanking in the showers and it's all downhill from there. or Summer Camp Counselor AU. Crowley is a sappy pining fool and Aziraphale has no idea what's going on.

search terms by Vagabond (M)

Aziraphale expects it to be a quiet night working in the university library when a flashy red haired, foul mouthed, panicking student needs to find credible sources for his paper and can't figure out how to use the search. Little does Aziraphale know that meeting Crowley will lead him on a path to self-discovery, and give him the family he didn't realize he needed. From a prompt on tumblr: College AU - You’re REALLY GOOD at using the right search terms for the academic databases and I’m on a deadline.

Opposites Attract by Pal456 (M)

The Eastgate family hated the Crowley family. Hated them so much, that their children were not to spend any time together. That never stopped Aziraphale and Crowley being drawn to one another time and time again even though their families would pull them apart. As years go by, Aziraphale tries to do right by his parents in order to take over the family business one day, but it seems like the Almighty might have a different, ineffable, plan that brings the two together every chance they get.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

One and the Same Fall by ElliottRook (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a UK student attending an American Catholic school on exchange, an escape from a strict, conservative family. Anthony Crowley is a juvenile delinquent on his last chance, sent to live with his uncle and attend a school that promises to shape him up. When they cross paths at St. Bernadette's, they nearly instantly become friends, and nobody likes it--not the teachers, not the old-money students, not Aziraphale's family--but it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of them. Hanging over their heads, though, is Crowley's plan to flee the moment he comes of age, and what will happen after they're no longer trapped in the same gilded cage.

And the one you mentioned...

secondhand smoke by PaintedVanilla (T)

you're second hand smoke, second hand smoke i breathe you in, but, honey, i don't know what you're doing to me mon chéri the year is 1990, and anthony crowley is looking for a church in london that might be tolerable. the one he winds up attending isn't exactly such, but he decides to stick around for one reason. said reason happens to own a bookshop that crowley begins to frequent, much to the surprise and delight of anathema device and newton pulsifer, who seem quite convinced that crowley could use something else to focus on besides gardening, their campaigns, and visits to tadfield.

- Mod D

[comfort-writing]

Camp Patoka

Chapter 1: Settling in to Cabin 11

Being a counselor at the summer camp you grew up in was a dream come true. That was until Steve, another counselor, began to ruin it for you. A rivalry begins.

warnings: this fic will be 18+ in future chapters- minors DNI!! no use of y/n. (please let me know if I missed anything)

a/n: the camp name is named after a wildlife reserve in Indiana :) also! thank you for 120 followers!!! 🤍 let me know in the comments or my asks if you want to be added to the tag list! requests are open!

word count: 3.6k

Chapter 1 || 2 (coming soon!)

You were sitting in your room in your tiny apartment when you got the call. You’d rushed to the phone, having a feeling that on the other end, your dream job awaited.

You were correct.

Camp Patoka, the summer camp you’d attended every summer since you were old enough to, had accepted your application to be a camp counselor over the summer. You’d remained calm on the phone, thinking them in a professional manner, but as soon as you heard the dial tone and hung your phone back on the wall, you jumped up and down, squealing like a little kid. Your downstairs neighbor yelled something, so you stopped jumping, but he didn’t damper your mood.

The previous summer, you’d aged out of the camp and you’d applied to be a counselor, but they’d rejected you. It was the first summer since you were five that you hadn’t gone. But now, you were able to go back to your favorite place on earth. And you’d get paid to do it! Admittedly not much, but you didn’t care.

The first person you’d thought of was Robin. She was one of your camp buddies. You lived kind of far apart, but the two of you kept up over the years. At first, the two of you exchanged letters, but as you’d grown older, you called each other every once in a while. She was able to get the job last summer, and you were happy for her, but you’d wished you’d been there too. Spending the summer apart just didn’t feel the same. You’d spent it working as a bartender, and the regulars didn’t make up for the Robin-and-s’mores sized hole in your little heart.

You knew that they were calling everyone who’d gotten the job between now and three today, so you decided to wait until then to give her a call, not wanting to block her phone line.

At exactly three o’clock, your phone rang. You smiled and got up to answer it, knowing for sure who was on the other end.

“Hey Robin.” You said, trying to sound dejected.

“Oh no.. again?” She asked sadly, knowing how heartbroken you’d been last year.

You couldn’t help but smile, “Nope! I got it! Did you?” You said excitedly.

“Oh my god! Yes! I got it too!” She beamed.

The two of you giggled and did your respective happy dances before continuing the call.

“Robin, I am literally so excited! Did they give you your cabin assignment over the phone?” You asked, hoping the two of you would be on the same side of the camp.

Camp Patoka was divided into two distinct sections: Lakeside cabins and Woodside cabins. Lakeside was typically for the younger kids, as it was closer to the main pavilion and a lot of the activities. Woodside was for the older kids, as they were able hike a bit to where they needed to be.

The sides had fifteen cabins each, and each cabin competed in week-long competitions to see which cabin reined supreme. But, the two sides of camp also competed, and at the end of the summer, during the counselor’s party, you’d find out which side won.

“I’m in Woodside, cabin 12.” She said happily, “What about you?”

“Dude- I’m in Woodside cabin 11!” You practically yelled, happy to be able to be right next to each other the entire time.

“This is literally amazing!” She screamed, causing you to hold the phone away from your ear for a second and laugh, “I convinced my friend Steve to apply too, and he’s in cabin 8! We’re all so close to each other!”

The two of you finished up the conversation, excited to see each other after a full year apart.

A few weeks later, you were on your way to camp, your car filled with everything you’d need. You packed clothes for the entire summer, stuff for your bunk, and cute decorations for your cabin. You jammed out to the radio in the way there, windows down to enjoy the warm, early summer air that you loved more than anything.

You arrived at the camp around 9:30 in the morning, thirty minutes before you’d technically needed to be there, but you went ahead and found a good spot to park your car before getting out, stretching after the long drive.

You popped open your trunk and sat in the back, relaxing and waiting for the time when the other counselors would arrive.

Slowly, cars started pouring into the parking lot, and you finally saw Robin get out of the passenger seat of a station wagon. She immediately saw you and smiled, running across the concrete and tackling you into a giant bear hug. You laughed and hugged her back with an equal amount of force, giggling.

“Oh my god I missed you!” She said, her voice muffled by your shirt.

“I missed you too!” You beamed, a bit out of breath. She finally released you from the crushing hug and stood back, looking over at the man who’d driven her here and waved him over.

He was tall, lean, and had probably the most gorgeous hair you’d ever seen. He seemed confident, which is something you’d liked in a guy, but maybe a little overtly so. His sneakers crunched against the concrete as he headed your way. Once he arrived, he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Steve.” He said simply.

You obliged, shaking his hand and introducing yourself.

“Steve and I went to high school together.” Robin smiled, “This is his first year as a counselor too, so you two can share war stories later on.”

You laughed, then hopped out of the trunk of your hatchback, “We ready to go check in?” You asked.

The two of them nodded, so you shut your trunk and walked with them to the main pavilion, chatting and catching up with Robin on the way there.

Once you were all checked in and ready to go, the three of you walked back to the parking lot to grab your luggage and head to your respective cabins.

You arrived at your car, lifting the trunk and lugging your two overly-packed suitcases out of the trunk before going to your front seat, grabbing your backpack out and slinging it on your back. You waited for Robin before the two of you walked to your cabins, Steve trailing behind the two of you.

He stopped at his cabin first, and Robin insisted that the two of you pause to head in and check it out before you continued to yours.

Steve unlocked the door and walked in, rolling his suitcase into the small room by the door where he’d stay before walking around. There were eight beds, excluding his own, a bathroom with two showers, and a center vanity with drawers and a large mirror.

You smiled and bumped Robin’s hip, “Remember when we stayed here?” You asked.

“That was in seventh grade, right?” She asked. You nodded, remembering the time a wasp flew into the cabin and the entire bunk of girls screamed while Robin just walked up and killed it.

“Well, this is home for the next two and a half months, huh?” Steve smiled. “You guys want help bringing your stuff to your cabins?” He asked. Robin nodded, and the three of you headed out, walking further down the little road to where the two cabins you’d be staying in sat. Steve offered to help with one of your heavy suitcases and carried Robin’s backpack on his back as you walked. Your cabin was first, and you invited them inside.

The layout was the same, but backwards. You and Steve rolled your suitcases into your area before you smiled at Robin, indicating that you’d wanted to go see her cabin. Her layout was the same as Steve’s, and she looked around for any bugs before giving a thumbs up, making you laugh.

Eventually, the three of you separated to get unpacked before lunch and training began at noon. You unpacked all of your clothes, folding them and putting them into the drawers in your tiny room that was open to the rest of the cabin. In order to have a little privacy, you’d brought an extendable shower curtain rod and cute curtains, something you’d seen your counselors do over the years. You set that up, then made your bed, flopping onto the twin mattress for a moment before sighing and getting up to finish decorating.

You turned on the small radio you’d bought, tuning it until you found a radio station that reached this far out into the woods, not really caring what music was playing but just enjoying the background noise.

You decorated your room first, stringing up lights so you wouldn’t have to use the overhead lighting, then hanging up a couple cute posters. You’d be living here for a few months, so you’d wanted to make it as homey as possible.

You then moved on to decorating the rest of the cabin, keeping it simple. A cute string of pom-poms over the mirror, a poster on the bathroom door with some encouraging words. You’d also brought dry-erase markers so you’d be able to write on the mirrors. You sat on the drawers in front of the giant mirror of the makeshift vanity area and got to work, drawing some cute little pine trees and writing ‘cabin 11’ in a cursive font. You made space to write the weekly schedule of activities for your campers, leaving it blank for now, as you hadn’t gotten it just yet.

You stepped back and smiled at your artwork. You weren’t the most amazing artist in the world, but you could make some pretty cute little doodles.

Before you knew it, it was nearing 11:45, and you heard a knock on your cabin door. Robin walked in, looking around. “Oh my god, your cabin is so cute!” She smiled, moving your curtains aside to look into your room, “Woah, it looks like you’ve lived here your whole life.”

You chuckled, “I wanted to make it feel like home!”

“No, I love it! I will definitely be hanging out in here.” She smiled, “But are you ready to head to the dining hall?” She asked.

You nodded and grabbed your lanyard, which held a spot for your name badge and you had your cabin key clicked into it as well. You’d also grabbed your backpack, which you’d packed with sunscreen, bug spray, an extra pair of hiking sandals in case yours ever broke, a mini first aid kit, and a few other small things that you’d need.

The two of you walked down to Steve’s cabin and picked him up, then trotted down to the dining hall together. You’d felt like Steve kept glancing your way, but you ignored it for the time being.

Training went by smoothly. They went over the map of the camp, handing out a few copies to every counselor, then ensured that everyone had their CPR and AED certifications up to date. They went over some housekeeping things like camp rules, the general schedule for meals and pavilion times. Then, they handed out the camp shirts for the year, as well as your schedule for the week, and the blank white flags your campers would get to decorate.

You and Robin swapped your schedules, looking them over. The two of you had the exact same schedule this week, and you likely would all summer since your cabins were connected by a deck and they typically grouped counselors by their location. She bumped your shoulder and smiled, and you smiled back, excited to spend the summer with one of your favorite people.

Once training let out, you and Robin linked arms and went to the lunch line, ready to eat the meal they’d provided. The two of you chatted about the schedule for the first week, excited to swim in the lake and ride horses.

Steve had made conversation with another male counselor, who apparently was his cabin buddy for the summer, so you and Robin ate your meal just chatting alone.

Once lunch was over, Steve walked up to the two of you. “Ready to head back?” He asked. Robin nodded and you followed the two of them out, making the familiar hike back to the Woodside cabins.

Robin spotted a bunny up ahead, so she made the two of you pause while she went to go investigate. The two of you watched as she slowly walked up to the tree line further up the road, wanting to check it out.

You heard Steve chuckle beside you, “She’s an interesting one.”

“Don’t go getting any ideas, man.” You said. Robin had actually come out to you first. She figured that if you would’ve freaked out, she wouldn’t have to deal with any repercussions back home, as you lived in a different part of the state. But when you ensured her that you loved her either way, she cried and hugged you. That was really the moment that solidified your friendship.

“Oh, I know.” He said, looking over at you, “Robin’s probably like, my best friend.” He hummed.

You nodded, trying not to giggle when Robin almost scared the bunny off by nearly tripping over a rock. “She’s definitely… really smooth.” You joked.

“Are you, like, into her?” He asked, not knowing your orientation.

You shrugged, “Well, we have made out a couple times, but it wasn’t serious. I kinda don’t have a preference, if that makes sense.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears from the gears turning in his head. “So you’d say yes if I asked you out?” He said, raising an eyebrow. He’d definitely noticed how pretty you were. Even though you were in your camp clothes— a large tee shirt, shorts, hiking sandals, and a headband—he still thought you were good looking.

You felt a bit shocked. He said it so candidly. He also seemed a bit arrogant, which you had never been a fan of. “I don’t know you, dude.”

“Do you have to?” He said a bit suggestively, the old King Steve persona, that you had no idea about, peeking out a little.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, kinda.” You walked ahead a little, going to meet Robin. You turned backwards as you walked, “Stranger danger, and all.” You scoffed and turned back around, jogging up to your friend and linked your arms together to keep walking.

She frowned, your movement making the bunny walk away, “Hey!”

“I gotta talk to you.” You said, speed walking towards your cabin and pulling her along, kinda grossed out and really wanting to get out of this situation.

Once you had dragged Robin into your cabin, you shut the door and stormed into your room, flopping face first down onto your bed, “Ewww.. ew ew ew” you groaned into your comforter.

Robin trailed behind you, moving to sit on the bean bag you’d put in the corner of your little room, “What?” She asked, not aware of what just happened.

You sat up, kicking your shoes off and sitting crisscrossed on your bed, facing her, “Steve asked me out.” You frowned.

Robin only laughed, and you frowned, which made her try to surprise it, “And the tally begins.” She said, making a mental note to write it down when she got back to her cabin.

“What?”

“Steve… well, he’s a great guy and all, but he’s a bit of a player. Well, more of a reformed one?” Her statements only made you more confused, so she continued, “Steve dated half of Hawkins in high school. He was real hot shit. But since he graduated, he’s changed. He’s a lot nicer, and I think he’s looking for something more serious, but he doesn’t have the game he used to… we work at a Family Video, and I have a running tally of how many times he’s gotten shot down.”

You burst into peals of laughter at that, and she joined in. “Sorry,” you said between giggles, “You keep count?”

“Yep. And it looks like you’re his first victim of the summer. Probably because you’re the only person who knows his name right now.” She chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re a victim of proximity.”

“That makes me feel a little better, I guess.” You shrugged, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“But, listen, if you do change your mind about him.. he’s a good guy. He’s one of my best friends, and I’m not trying to shit talk him or anything. I’d totally support it. He means well.” She sighed, relaxing in the cool air conditioning of the cabin.

“Boys are gross.” You teased, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

She nodded, “Agreed!”

The next couple days were spent in more counselor training, going over the safety precautions for each activity within the camp, as well as getting to know the entire team in the process.

By Monday morning, the first round of campers were arriving by 8am. You sat in pavilion, helping check campers in and pointing them towards their respective counselors. You even checked in one of your own, introducing yourself to her, as well as her parents. You pointed to where your cabin was gathering in the pavilion, saying you’d meet them over there in a little while.

Once all campers were accounted for, the camp director did introductions to the camp and herself before dismissing the cabins to go grab their stuff form cars and meet in their respective cabins. You led your group of preteens and their parents through the camp, giving a bit of a tour as you walked to the Woodside cabins. You helped get suitcases in the door to the cabin, then watched as your kids hugged their parents goodbye for the week.

You helped your girls get settled in, getting to know them. You wrote the schedule for the week on your mirror, then pulled out the blank flag and markers, sitting down with them to decorate it. Each counselor carried their flag around, making it easy for campers to spot their counselors, as well as having something unique to that group of campers. They ended up drawing out a little cabin in the woods, you finding out that one of your campers was an amazing artist, and they all drew little trees and birds, as well as writing their names at the bottom. You wrote ‘Cabin 11’ at the top in a cute font.

Once you were finished, you held up the flag, and all the girls nodded in approval before you grabbed the small PVC pipe that would act as your flag pole, and you slid the flag onto it, then stuck it by the door. You looked at your watch, and it was about time for everyone to gather at the pavilion again for the first games of the week before each cabin was dismissed for their first activity. You had arts and crafts today, so it would be a chill day to start off the week, which was nice.

You instructed the girls to get ready to go, and you did as well, putting your shoes back on and grabbing your backpack, as well as the flag. You stood by the door and once everyone was ready, you walked out, having them sit on the little benches on the deck while you knocked on Robin’s door. She smiled and opened it, ready to go as well. The two of you gathered your campers and started the hike back to the camp’s main pavilion.

“Should we teach them our favorite song?” Robin asked. You smiled and nodded, then the two of you walked backwards and led them through a song you’d leaned at this camp, showing them all the arm movements that went along with it, laughing all the way as you watched your campers open up and bond with each other quickly.

At the main pavilion, the camp director introduced the camp-wide competition, then started the first game: a weird version of rock paper scissors with body movements instead of just hands. The campers competed in their cabins first, then once the numbers dwindled, cabins competed against each other until one camper was victorious, winning 10 points for their cabin.

The two finalists were one of the girls from your cabin, and a boy from Steve’s, because of course it was. The entire camp cheered them on, and your camper emerged victorious, your cabin standing up and cheering excitedly. The director marked down the points as your camper ran back, your girls group hugging her. You looked over at Steve and smirked, feeling like you’d gotten him back.

This was the beginning of a beautiful rivalry.

Tag List: @mcueveryday @bebe0701 @emma77645 @edsforehead @manda-panda-monium @nina211544 @wendyfawcett @whisperinthewoods07 @aysheashea @emxxblog @shotgunhallelujah @theanxietyqueen17 @isabel-ffl-xoxo

[nerd-party]

i shall attempt to describe

i dont take many photos of things unless I want to share them but I want to share this, except I did t have my phone at the time so I shall attempt to describe it.

It was June, and I was on holiday. I had gone with my Scout troop to Denmark (I know, snazzy) for our summer camp. The days had been miserable the first few days, a veritable flood of water, but on the third day the clouds cleared off and me and my friends awoke to the warm sun on our backs.

We ate and played and did our chores without complaint; it was like the whole camp was sunny and smiling. We were on a part of the campsite that overlooked the lake leading to the ocean, and much of the day was spent laughing a joking and watching the crabs, catching them and fishing up the empty shells. We all were giddy on freedom, and it was so beautiful- long, lazy days by the sea, dipping our feet and idly chatting, playing tag and battling with driftwood.

On the fifth day I had just finished washing up dinner, as I had dismissed my patrol to go and have fun. For ages I had heard them having fun and skimming stones off at the sunset while I cleaned up. The lake was reflecting the most gorgeous sunset and the breeze was cool and warm- it was a perfect evening. When I finally joined them they were doing a competition of sorts- a talent show. None of the adults were around, so kids danced, juggled coconuts, sang duets and climbed trees. Eventually, a boy dragged me up and they all chanted for me to show a talent, so I did something I hadn't shown any of them before; I sang.

It's a simple song, quite impressive, and I will not deny that I am an excellent singer. When I finished, every kid on that trip was staring at me wide-eyed and I got a standing ovation. Kids in grass clapped, kids braiding each other's hair had stopped and one kid fell off his tree branch (he was fine). It wasn't a jaw dropping performance, but I think it was more the shock of hearing the likable big sister of the group, who did odd jobs and was always warm and inviting to all the kids, annoying or not, actually have a skill so many desired that she used so infrequently.

When I looked to the adults tent, I had caused quite a stir. A few leaders were there watching and, when most kids had long since gone to sleep, and the cool night air was tinged with the first drop of cold, a leader approached me and showed me a picture he had taken on his high-resolution camera.

It was me, albeit from a distance but still clear and sharp, haloed in bright golden sunlight so it was hard to see me. He had snuck into the back of the group to take the picture and slipped off. I had my eyes closed, my face was calm, and I was surrounded by the most gorgeous pastel sunset, painting the skies pink and gold. Leaves were just visible and a few fallen petals were dusted behind me. You couldn't get a better picture of me anywhere. It was just me, lost in a picturesque sunset that crowned me the winner.

I think about that photograph a lot, and even now, many moons later, it remains my favourite memory from that trip, or any trip i have ever gone on.

(for those who wish to know, the song was Mama Who Bore Me from the musical the Spring Awakening)

[eviesessays]

22. What have been some of your life's greatest surprises?

In my advanced age I thought nothing surprised me but on further reflection I decided almost everything surprises me.  That I am in my 88th year is one of my greatest surprises.  I remember once when I was in my early teen years I had pleurisy and every time I tried to take a breath I had such a pain in my chest, I was certain I was soon going to die.  I knew how sad everyone would be and how they would miss me and wish they had been kinder to me.  Well, the biggest surprise was that I recovered in a few days and nobody seemed to notice my distress or my recovery.

I am surprised that I live in New Hampshire.  When Kip and Carl and I were young we kept an account of all the license plates we saw from outside Ontario.  Most were from the United States.  Sioux Lookout was a small town in the North of the province.  It had many beautiful, pristine lakes and therefore many fishing lodges and camps that attracted fishing enthusiasts.  Most cars we counted were from the nearer border states, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois and  Michigan.  I do not remember a car from New Hampshire.  That stood to reason since it was 1000 miles away and at that time had beautiful, pristine unpolluted lakes of its own.

That I now live in this beautiful but presently very cold state was the result of a broken promise. When I married Phil Pahl he was the chief engineer of the SR71 at the Pentagon.  He was a colonel and promised this was his last assignment and we would not leave Washington.  In early 1974 he was assigned to Hanscom AFB in Bedford, MA.  That Easter vacation we flew space available to Germany and Spain since we were  going to be spending our summer vacation moving.  He went on to Bedford and house hunted and I stayed behind til the school year ended.  I resigned my wonderful job and prepared for the move.  In June we moved into our home on Wildwood Drive in Bedford, MA.  We found Boston a beautiful, historical and interesting city.  We also found weekend trips to New Hampshire beautiful in all seasons.  We all became skiers.  We bought a cottage near Wolfboro, NH.  It was one of the most idyllic places. It was peaceful beyond words. We canoed and swam in Lake Winnipesaukee in summer and skied at Ossippee and Gunstock. in Winter.  The cottage was not so much a surprise in my life but one of the greatest joys.  

In 1984 Phil retired from the Air Force and by then we were dedicated New Englanders.  We bought a farm in Warner, NH.  I remember walking along the river and seeing the property for the first time.  Heather and her friend Rachel were with us.  It was a magnificent find.  The piling of the Waterloo covered bridge was one of the boundary markers for the property.  There were 22 acres on one side of the river and a strip of 5 miles that ran along the other side of the Warner River.  There was a large barn, an in-ground swimming pool, a lovely modern home and a small building near the river bank.  It had a wood stove and was currently used as a woodworking shop.  There were two large meadows and a large vegetable garden.  It was perfect and I knew immediately was a place where my spirit could soar and my heart could rest.  

Life moved at rocket speed.  We bought the farm, sold the Bedford house and sold my most loved cottage. I turned 50 and Jaylyn got married. Phil retired and took a part time civilian job. Peter graduated from college and then I got cancer. It was also at this time that Phil admitted to me that  he had a long standing affair with his tennis partner in Bedford.  I knew I would be divorced again. I would not be very tolerant of an impulsive, “tussle in the hay”,  but this was a long standing, calculated affair.  We were divorced in 1988.  I bought the farm and spent 22 very happy years there. Now in my 70’s, I had to admit I could not keep up with all the needs of this very happy place.  In 2007 I sold the farm and moved to Mountain Road in Concord.  

After two failed treatments for my Non Hodgkins Lymphoma, I decided to go into Dana Farber in Boston.  I did an experimental treatment and have been cancer free since.  

Today is March 4, 2023 and we are having a huge snow storm.  I am at my desk writing a story about life’s greatest surprises and the truth is most things surprise me.  My granddaughters, Anne and Hillary have each given me two great grandchildren who are delightful, charming and full of wonderful surprises.

I still hear from classmates but half my high school class is now gone and almost half of my nursing school class has also passed away.  Considering all things I guess one of life’s greatest surprises is that I am still here to tell the story.

[andnowanowl]

Since "Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation" is suspiciously not available in the US in the form of an e-book, I purchased a physical copy and wanted to share it here for anyone else also unable to get access.

GHASSAN ANDONI

Physics professor, 58

Born in Beit Sabour, West Bank

Interviewed in Beit Sabour, West Bank

Despite his slight frame, Ghasssan Andoni has a strong presence, and commands attention whenever he speaks. Ghassan is a physics professor and activist. He lives in the community of Beit Sahour, which is nestled in the hills just east of Bethlehem and one of the few mostly Christian communities in Palestine. In total, Christians make up around 2 percent of the total population of the West Bank. Legend has it that the residents of Beit Sabour are descended from the shepherds who visited Jesus on the night of his birth; Sahouris jokingly claim that it was their notorious talent for gossip that spread the story of Jesus so widely. We visit Ghassan often during the spring and summer of 2014 at the modest but cheerful apartment where he lives with his wife and twenty-four-year-old son. The family has decorated the apartment in purple and white, and Ghassan has used his metalworking skills to build a small elevator to take groceries from the first floor to the third.

Ghassan's life has taken him from a refugee camp in Jordan, to universities in Iraq and England, to a war in Lebanon. Even when home in Beit Sahour, he has been extremely active. He played a key role in the community's campaign of civil disobedience during the First Intifada, and be helped found the International Solidarity Movement, an organization that brought thousands of international volunteers to Palestine during the Second Intifada. His activism led to his nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006. These days be lives a relatively quiet life. commuting to and from Birzeit University where he teaches. Still, he has no doubts be will become active again when the time is right.

DO I BELONG HERE OR DO I BELONG THERE?

My family has been in Beit Sahour for many generations, as far back as we know. I was born here in 1956. I have two sisters and three brothers, and I'm the oldest male. I grew up in the home that my father built in the early 1950s. He was a teacher then. My mother worked in the home. When I was a child, if I looked out at the hills from my home, there was nothing there except trees and fields. I grew up in a fairly closed community. It's a society where if you run into someone in the street, that person is probably a cousin or an aunt or uncle. On the one hand, this made me feel very safe growing up. But on the other hand, I've always spent a lot of my time here on social obligations. Every week there are weddings, baptisms, and graduations. Since my family is connected to thousands of others here, we're expected to be there when others are celebrating or when they're sad. All of these gatherings can be exhausting.

In 1962, at the age of six, I left Beit Sahour. My father got a job as an accountant in Amman, Jordan, and so he bought a house there and we all went to live with him. In Amman, the paradox was that my family had ahome that was on the border between a middle-class neighborhood and the very poor Al-Hussein refugee camp.² So my home was at the border of two ways of life, and I was always wondering, Do I belong here or do I belong there?

At that time, conditions in the refugee camp were very bad. The houses were made of thin iron sheets with asbestos covering the outsides. There was sewage in the street, which was really just a narrow dirt path. Many of my friends were from the camp, so I spent real time in those slums. Of course, my family wasn't comfortable with that. In Beit Sahour, I can't remember having a fight with anyone. But in Jordan, I had to be ready every time I walked to the shop. I'd always meet a couple of people who wanted to bother me. I didn't like beating people up, but I also fought when I had to. I learned that it was not the size, it was not the muscles, it was the daring heart that won. I learned not to think of the consequences, just jump into a fight. Every time I came home, I had a new scar somewhere.

Three or four of our neighbors were Christian families. That's why my father bought our home where he did. But my father was very secular, so he didn't put me in a private Christian school. I was the only Christian kid in the government schools that I went to. The schools were not obliged to provide me with a Christian religion teacher, but I had the right to go out and play during religion class. But it's boring to play by yourself. So I asked to sit and listen in religion class.

I wanted to know more, so I started to read and memorize the Quran. Our religion teacher wanted to justify his own ideas by taking a verse from the Quran and throwing it in our faces. I started arguing with him and quoting my own memorized verses. He got annoyed and asked me to just go outside to play. I was much younger than others in my class, because I was accepted into second grade in Jordan at the age of six. I did well in school, but in fourth grade I was still a little kid, and there were people sitting beside me who were fourteen years old because they had failed classes. One of them, a Bedouin,³ was actually married. He was fifteen years old I think. I had to learn to stand up for myself.

I spent my summer vacations in Beit Sahour. In the camps, it was a struggle all the time, but in Beit Sahour, I felt safe and comfortable. I had lots of fun with cousins. It was like a respite for many years.

In 1967 when I was eleven, I traveled to Beit Sahour to visit my grandmother and aunt. It was an easy trip then, because there were no checkpoints at the time. My father could just put me on a bus. One day during my visit that year, I walked down the street to buy some coffee for my aunt. While I was walking back, the Israelis started shelling the village it was the start of the Six-Day War.⁴ There were no buildings where I was walking, so I had to jump into a field and cover myself until it was safe to move. I was probably crying. I remember maybe twelve or fifteen bombs exploding nearby. When I got back to my relatives' house, I learned that one of my neighbors had been killed.

I saw the soldiers coming into Beit Sahour with their weapons. Everybody was scared. Some people were saying the Israelis would kill us, we should leave, and others were saying we should stay. But it was over in a week. I still remember an injured bird that had been trapped in my relatives' house after the bombing ended. I caught it and cared for it while I was waiting to go home. After a couple of weeks, the Red Cross arranged a bus ride for me and others back to Jordan. I tried to take the bird with me back home. I held it in my hands on the trip back, but it died on the way.

A CIVIL WAR IS SOMETHING THAT YOU SHOULDN'T LIVE THROUGH

Struggle was the norm when I was young. I never lived a peaceful life. But the problem is, I started liking it. It started thrilling me. It was like someone throwing you into the sea and you have to find your way to the shore and you have to struggle hard, hard, hard. When I returned to Jordan, I continued hanging out with my friends in the refugee camp for the next few years. Things in the camp were changing, starting in 1970. When I was around fourteen, I started seeing weapons in the streets of the camp, and I started seeing banners of liberation organizations. I was seeing the birth of the Palestinian revolution. The environment changed dramatically. I saw people smiling, talking. I saw a sense of pride. When the guns appeared, everybody found himself. Suddenly, the kids stopped fighting each other. We started mostly playing with toy guns. Slowly the phenomenon spread all over, and I started seeing people with real guns and wearing the traditional keffiyeh.⁵

I started learning. I took every opportunity to go to the various offices of different organizations and just sit and listen to people talking about refugees and the origins of the camps. Then the friction started between the PLO and the King's Army.⁶ The line was drawn with Jordanians and Palestinians against each other, and Palestinians started getting fired from their jobs, including my father. Then we had gunfire in the streets, gunfire and bombs every single day. I went to school in the morning and then when the fighting started, the school would discharge us and we students would make our way back home, sometimes hiding and sometimes crawling to avoid fire.

Soon, there was destruction everywhere. It seemed like every single home in the neighborhood was hit by bombs and gunfire. It was even worse in the camps. One bomb would destroy four of those shacks. Our home got hit by shells as well, five or six times. It had holes in it, but it didn't fall down. But we lost our water tanks, and then we had to hunt for water, and that was risky. I think it was the Iraqi army that eventually started bringing water tanks on trucks. But they brought the water to a place very far from our home. We had to take a container, go to the distribution site, get the water, and then make our way home.

In the final days of September 1970, we suffered a severe bombardment. We were hiding in the basement and the ceiling started coming down on us. So we had to run and seek shelter in our neighbors' cellar. The cellar was actually a small rocky cave and protected, so there were about ten or twelve families from the neighborhood stuck in that place. It was summertime, so it was hot, and it was dark. We spent two nights there. Nobody slept. When the Jordanian army came, we were all in that cellar. A civil war is something that you shouldn't live through. I mean a war, okay, but a civil war, I don't think anyone should experience it.

After the PLO was defeated and the Jordanian army reoccupied Amman, all the men were asked to gather in a certain square. All of us were taken, everyone from the age of thirteen until the age of eighty. I was still fourteen, and that was my first experience of detention. They took us to a desert detention center in Jordan. I stayed there for fourteen days. It was ugly—really, really ugly—the way they treated us. We were rarely fed. I saw so many scenes of beatings and torture. I remember the guards examined our shoulders for marks that might be left from carrying a rifle.Anyone with a mark was taken, and we didn't see him again. After fourteen days they just started releasing us gradually, starting with elderly people and then very young people, and then I was released together with my father and we went back to our home.

When I came home, I cried. Everything that we owned in Jordan was destroyed. Our home was almost totally destroyed and our car was destroyed. We were a shattered family, and we thought we didn't have a future in Jordan. It reminded me of 1967. It was my second experience of being invaded and having someone take over.

A group from the Beit Sahour municipality managed to come to Jordan and give some assistance to the Beit Sahour families that had been living in Amman. My uncle was part of that assistance group. Seeing my uncle and getting some help was the first nice thing that had happened in a long time. My father asked him to try to get us a permit to go and visit Beit Sahour. And he did. It was probably three months after our detention that we came back to Beit Sahour. We were very lucky, because my family had property in Beit Sahour registered in our name, so we were able to get residency IDs to live in the West Bank. Otherwise we might have spent our lives in Jordan.

"IT'S LIKE A TINY TERRORIST"

I came back to Beit Sahour in 1970, when I was in the tenth grade. Beit Sahour as a community hadn't changed much since the occupation began in 1967. In fact, the occupation worked to strengthen the community. When you live under rules that don't represent you, you keep your traditions as a safeguard. If you have a problem, you solve it internally instead of going to court, because you don't trust the authorities. So, in a way, occupation actually strengthened some of the tribal aspects of our society—not just in Beit Sahour, but all of Palestine.

My father bought a knitting machine to manufacture clothes in our house. My parents would travel to Tel Aviv to sell the clothes they assembled. After some time, my dad opened a clothing shop. I think it was tiring for him and my mother. They didn't have any weekends, because they were always in Tel Aviv buying fabric or selling clothes. Meanwhile, I registered for school in the village. That was a period when I was studying, but I was also politically active. I started inciting demonstrations against the occupation with a few others, going to gatherings, and talking politics. And the violence inside me from spending so much time in the refugee camp was still there, so I caused trouble in school. The teachers liked me because I was smart and got good grades, but at the same time they were very annoyed by the way I treated them. My friends and I played a lot of tricks on our teachers to make fun of them. A few times I locked the headmaster in his office so that he wouldn't disrupt our demonstrations.

In 1972, my tawjihi exam year, I was arrested.⁷ The Israelis crashed their way into my home just after midnight and asked for me. My mother opened my room, and they looked at me. I was tiny. I was sixteen at that time, but I looked like I was fourteen, so the arresting officers didn't believe they had the right guy. One of them said, "What's that? It's like a tiny terrorist."

So I was taken and interrogated, and I spent four months in prison. I was the little kid there, and it was hard. I was a minor and I was put in jail with adults. The interrogators would beat me until I fainted. But in jail my world became much bigger. I met people from different places, from villages, from refugee camps, from cities, people with different accents, people with different cultures. Everybody took care of me. I was the little Christian. I liked the other prisoners very much, and I left prison feeling that I needed to do something for them.

When I was released, the tawjihi exam was in a month's time, and I had studied nothing. So I decided to do it the next year. But then one of my relatives sort of challenged me. He said, "You can't do it, you're not ready." I hated anybody telling me I couldn't do something, so I took the exam right away, and I earned higher marks than my classmates.

YOU DON'T SHUT UP IN TIMES OF WAR

After I passed my high school exams, I went to Baghdad to study physics. It was the most challenging topic in school, and I like challenges. Also, I learned about religions early in my life, but they never gave me answers. I started looking more to science as the way to understand what was around me. Iraq when I lived there was paradise. I lived the best times of my life there. Then in 1976, a couple of years after I started college, I volunteered to go to Lebanon during the civil war.⁸ I was twenty years old. I'd been raised as a committed nationalist, and I believed at the time that I needed to liberate Palestine through guns. I believed that I shouldn't stay silent about what was going on in Lebanon, the refugee camps, and the massacres. So I volunteered to go. I went with my best friends who I had met in Baghdad. My family didn't know. I actually wrote several letters and gave them to somebody to send—one every two weeks—saying that I was getting some training in one of the factories in Iraq and that was why I couldn't come back to visit that year. If my mother knew I was in Lebanon, she would have had a heart attack, so I thought, Why put her in that situation?

We were part of a unit and we got some weapons training because otherwise we would have probably died immediately. You have to understand the environment. The minute we stepped into Beirut, we were in a battlefield.⁹ If a Palestinian refugee camp was here, then a few meters over was a Phalangist Christian neighborhood.¹⁰ There was no place you could be where you were not part of the war. My group was supposed to protect Palestinian refugee camps if they were attacked and help the civilians cope by providing some medical aid and food. Sometimes we would go out and look for snipers. There was no clear long-term plan, but we had something to do. Every minute there was shooting, or someone every minute injured, or people trapped somewhere who needed to be evacuated.

One of the most tragic things that I faced was when Maronite militias managed to overrun a refugee camp called Tel Al-Zaatar.¹¹ Many of the men in the camp were killed. We met the women and children coming out of there after being under siege for eighty days. They were starving. They looked like ghosts. That scene shocked me. So after seeing those refugees, my friends took me to Al-Hamra Street, which was where all the nightclubs were. It was neutral territory. You could sit there and the one you had been fighting in the morning was sitting next to you with a drink.

I never killed someone as far as I know. I never saw someone, pointed a gun at him, and shot him. When there were enemies, what we would do is to engage in heavy shooting to prevent them from shooting In the fighting, my friends and I were pretty much useless. We weren't trained enough to protect anybody. But I think we compensated for that by helping people. I cannot stay silent when my flesh and blood is being attacked and killed. Otherwise I will not have peace inside knowing that happened and I did nothing.

After spending three months in Lebanon, I started thinking, What the hell are we doing here? It was obvious to me that in Lebanon, nobody could achieve any kind of victory. So why fight? I saw a few of my closest friends lose their lives. I was ready to die, but it was extremely hard to witness the death of my friends.

Also, my image of the ideal freedom fighter that I had developed in prison started to have cracks in it.

Being a soldier is a specific lifestyle. You have a gun, you fight, you kill and sometimes get killed, and you get a salary at the end of the month. As a soldier, you just do your job, but people like me who volunteered would sometimes ask a hell of a lot of questions. It seems as though people often think, In times of war, everybody should shut up. But no, in times of war, everybody should speak. That's what I believe. You shut up in times of peace, but you don't shut up in times of war. After three months, I decided that I wanted to continue my studies. I didn't want to be commanded by people who didn't accept questions and didn't answer them. So I went back to Baghdad.

By 1977, I was twenty-one years old and done with my bachelor's degree. I didn't want to stay in Baghdad or Lebanon. I was very committed to the Palestinian cause. I knew that the only places I could be effective in the Palestinian resistance was in the occupied territories or in Jordan, and so I decided to go back, even though I knew I could be arrested by the Israelis or the Jordanians because of my time in Lebanon.

We knew that because there were so many Jordanian students at our university- some of whom probably worked for the Jordanian secret service that the authorities knew about our trip to Lebanon. I was always back to the West Bank, and this time I suspected it would be worse. They took my passport at the airport in Amman and summoned me to interrogation. I lied, and I don't feel proud of that, but it was necessary. I almost got away with it, but then one of my friends came into Jordan earlier than expected and the intelligence connected our stories. The officer said, "I'm not going to arrest you. I'll give you one night of sleep and then tomorrow you come to my office, beg me to listen to your story, and tell me everything you know, and maybe I'll allow you to go home to Beit Sahour. Otherwise, I might arrest you." When he let me go, I just took off. With help from one of my uncles, I was able to bribe an officer at the bridge over the Jordan River and cross into the West Bank the next day.

WHEN IS THIS GOING TO STOP?

Ten days after I arrived in Beit Sahour, in the summer of 1977, I was arrested. Israeli soldiers came to my home at midnight and I was taken to Al-Muskubiya in Jerusalem.¹² I spent three months under interrogation. At nights, I would be taken to the old stables the police used as cells and there would be questioning with beatings. They had some information about the Lebanon trip, but they weren't sure about it. They asked about names that it wasn't possible for them to invent, two names in particular of individuals who had come to Lebanon with me but weren't part of my group of friends. But they didn't have enough information to know that I was in Lebanon. They were guessing. After the initial questioning, I spent at least forty-five days in solitary confinement, then they released me without asking me another question. I don't know why. It was eithera mistake and they forgot about me, or it was a punishment or some kind of revenge. I'm still puzzled about this.

I came back to Beit Sahour, but I had trouble settling in. I spent a couple of years trying to figure out what to do next. Then I was arrested again at age twenty-four. At this point, nobody in my family knew I had been to Lebanon—that was my secret.

I was taken back to Al-Muskubiya. Instead of taking me to one of the cells, I was taken to the yard. My hand was cuffed to a water pipe that was so high I couldn't sit. I had to be standing all the time, and they put a sack over my head. I was left there for five consecutive days and nights, standing, no sleep at all and without anybody talking to me. The pain in my legs was bad because all the blood sort of settled down there, and I got disoriented after five days and nights without sleeping. Every now and then I would collapse from exhaustion and I'd be dangling from my wrists. After that I was taken immediately to the interrogation office. I was afraid. Every now and then they'd strike me in the head without warning, so I was tense all the time. I remember the only thing in my mind was, When is this going to stop?

In the interrogation center they wasted no time. The interrogator told me about the confession of the man who had been with me in Lebanon. He said, "Listen, I don't need your confession." At that time, Israel had issued what was called the Tamir Law. Tamir Law was an amendment to the laws of the military court laws that allowed the judge to sentence people based on the confessions of other people, not the accused. If the judge was convinced that the informant was telling the truth, then he didn't need the confession of the accused. The interrogator told me, "Listen, you are going to court whether you confess or not. We have enough evidence to send you to jail for a long period of time. It's up to you to decide."

So I told them about my involvement. I said I'd volunteered to do humanitarian work in the refugee camps in Lebanon, and that, after spending three months there, I decided to go back and continue my studies. The interrogator said, "We know that you did more, but we'll accept your confession." And I signed my confession and it was sent to court. I was sentenced to two years in prison and three years of probation. After the sentencing, my family knew that I had been in Lebanon. My mother told me that she had sensed there had been something wrong and she never believed the letters that I sent, but she was happy that I was safe and that she saw me in front of her and not in a grave.

TOTAL CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE

After I was released from prison around 1980, I got a job teaching at the Lutheran school in Beit Sahour.¹³ It was around that time that I met a woman named Selwa-she was studying at Bethlehem University then.¹⁴ We got to like each other. She was one of the prettiest girls in Beit Sahour. Before too long, Selwa and I got married.

Then in 1983, I managed to get a scholarship from the British Consulate and went to do my master's degree in physics at the University of Reading in England.¹⁶ I didn't like Reading. It's a very conservative town and there was a big drinking culture. I also don't like British tea. I got used to Iraqi tea where you get the tea and boil it until it's black like tar and then you pour some of the tea in a cup with some water and ten spoons of sugar. I got addicted to it, and so British tea seemed tasteless. But I completed my master's degree. My wife didn't come with me, but she visited two times.When I finished my master's, I returned to the West Bank. Then I

talked to a university in Amsterdam, and they invited me there to pursue my Ph.D. and do research with them. But when I applied to leave, I was refused. The Amsterdam university communicated directly with the foreign ministry in Israel and were sent a letter that said without any reservations, "If Mr. Andoni leaves the country, he will be a threat to the security of the state of Israel." So I was forced to stay. I was living an ordinary, frustrated life. Something inside me was boiling.

Not long after that, in 1987, the First Intifada erupted.¹⁶ Suddenly the environment changed. A few months before the Intifada, people in Beit Sahour had been busy going to parties and shopping. Suddenly, everybody was talking about occupation and politics. Everybody became a committed nationalist and a lover of Palestine. Yesterday, they were shopping in Tal Piyot and the day before they were in Eilat giving money to Israel.¹⁷ Now these same people were in the streets in the thousands. I had seen small demonstrations that started and ended, but I hadn't seen a whole nation standing on its toes as they were in 1987. I was inspired.

And then it really began-demonstrations, marches, occasional clashes with soldiers and settlers. Soldiers came and abused people. We started organizing, and I started to have meetings with my friends and community leaders. I didn't want the common way of doing things where somebody throws a stone and the soldiers come and attack them. To my understanding, we were trying to convince the Israelis that occupation was not sustainable. In the back of our minds, some of us thought—and I was one of them. I knew that we needed to move carefully towards total civil disobedience. I can't claim that I had done any reading on this. I knew about Gandhi and the civil rights movement in the United States, but I had never studied them in-depth. But it was obvious to me that with thousands of people, the approach could be powerful. There was almost a consensus in Beit Sahour that in order to ensure community involvement in the Intifada, we had to inject some democracy. And from that came the idea to let each neighborhood elect its own committee. And then out of those committees we would have a central committee that would have authority in town during this period. The elections were like the traditional Greek election. There were no ballots or boxes. It was out in the open. Each neighborhood gathered and agreed on the people to represent them. Then those committees decided on a group of four or five people to become the central committee. I was one of the members of the central committee. Since we didn't have courts, this committee had the power to determine law.

The business owners of Beit Sahour decided to stop paying their taxes to Israel. People were very enthusiastic about the tax strike. Almost everyone in town participated. The military government started confiscating people's cars as a way to pressure them to pay their taxes. Or they would confiscate everything in someone's shop or home.

One of the leaders of the strike, Elias Rishmawi lost around $100,000 worth of goods, and at that time $100,000 dollars was like $1 million today. But nobody gave into the pressure. Probably because Elias lost so much, others felt ashamed if they complained about losing $5,000. He set an example. It was during this time that the people of Beit Sahour gathered in front of the municipal building and threw out their identity cards. Our message was, we don't recognize Israeli authority, and if this ID represents their authority over us, then we don't want it.

The tax revolt led to a curfew for all of Beit Sahour. So schools wereclosed, universities were closed, kindergartens were closed, and we started realizing that this would go on for a long time. It wasn't going to be two or three weeks. So we established what we called underground schools. With little effort, different neighborhoods started organizing teachers and students and then opening schools in homes, apartments, any empty place, and students started going there. We realized that what our community was doing had to be reported so that it could spread to other communities. And that's why we started investing real effort in attracting the attention of media, people interested in the region, visiting groups, and fact-finding and human rights organizations. And this I can claim I played a major role in because I knew English, and I was a good communicator. We started an organization called the Palestinian Center for Rapprochement Between Peoples, a group designed to start a dialogue between Palestinians and people of other nationalities. International media started paying attention to our cause.

Perhaps as a consequence, the military started cracking down on our town. Beit Sahour was placed under a siege and nothing was allowed in or out. So then came the idea of victory gardens, just like in World War II. Suddenly each neighborhood had a garden. Beit Sahour was under siege, but everybody in town was sitting on balconies and having barbecues. That drove the soldiers crazy. And then came the idea of the cows.

EIGHTEEN WANTED COWS

I want to warn you that I've told this story so many times that probably each time something gets added in order to make it more funny. It's a community story, because everybody's added a bit to it. But the bulk of the story is true.

It goes like this. One of the hardships we faced during the First Intifada was a lack of milk. Most milk in the region was produced in Israel, and we were boycotting Israeli products. Some of the leaders of the Beit Sahour resistance decided to start a ranch, get cows, milk them, and provide milk to the community for free. In order to make it more symbolic, we wanted the milk to be distributed at three in the morning at the doorsteps of each family, and the bottle would be distributed by a young person masked with a keffiyeh. That was the concept. But we needed cows. Where would we find the cows? The only cows around were in an Israeli kibbutz.¹⁸ So we needed to buy cows from the kibbutz and bring them to Beit Sahour. Finally, a group of people who had some money volunteered to pay for eighteen cows. The group went together and bought the cows, loaded them in trucks, and brought them to Beit Sahour around midnight.

Now, the people who bought the cows were doctors, engineers, business people, university professors—not dairy farmers, okay? So the trucks arrive in Beit Sahour and someone says, "Guys, let's get the cows out of the trucks." But the cows didn't want to get out of the trucks. One clever man came up with the idea of making a loud noise to scare them. Unfortunately, the plan worked too well. The cows jumped out of the trucks and ran away into the hills. Imagine teachers, scholars, doctors, and business people in suits running after cows at midnight in the mountains. The story goes that one teacher—a small man—chased a cow and nearly cornered it before the cow turned around and started chasing him! So it was all chaos until neighbors were awakened by the noise and came out. They were Bedouin farmers and they knew about livestock, so they managed to control the cows and get them into pasture.

A few days after the cows arrived near Beit Sahour, the military governor of the region and a big force of soldiers came to town. Each cow from the kibbutz had a number branded on it to identify the cow. A soldier photographed each cow, a personal portrait with its face and number, like wanted criminals. The military governor said the cows were a security threat to the state of Israel, and if they were still there in twenty-four hours, he would arrest everyone. You would have to ask him why he was so upset. There was nothing we had done that was illegal. I think what bothered him was purely our defiance. Anyway we figured, Let's stick to our plan and see what he does. The military general didn't take the cows, but he arrested a few people for punishment and threatened the villagers who were providing water for the animals. So the pressure was mounting, and finally we decided to evacuate the place. There was a hidden cave that would be suitable for the eighteen cows, and we decided to move them there.

It happened that the owner of the land that the cave was on was a butcher, and if those cows were discovered, he would say that he'd bought them for slaughter. There was nothing illegal about this, so that was a good cover. And we kept up with our milk deliveries.

The military governor couldn't let go of the problem of the cows. He knew he was being disobeyed, and he wanted badly to know where the cows were. So he laid siege to the town, and he started a search from home to home, from hill to hill, from cave to cave in the entire area of Beit Sahour, searching for the cows. Even helicopters filled the air above the hills, trying to see if there was any strange movement. In town, soldiers walked around with photos of each cow, stopping people in the street and asking them, "Have you seen this cow?" The people they stopped would joke, "Well, the face is familiar. I'm not sure. The nose I remember was a little smaller."

The search continued for a couple of days. Finally the soldiers arrived at the butcher's place, but the cave was well hidden so you couldn't discover it easily. They looked carefully and found nothing and were about to leave when one of the cows made a noise. So the soldier who heard the noise went back to the cave, looked here and there-nothing. Then hefound another cave and stuck his flashlight into it and here were the eighteen wanted terrorist cows sitting there. So he started shouting “Eureka, eureka!" When the military governor arrived, he asked the butcher, if he had enough money to buy eighteen cows, why didn't he pay his taxes? At that time, the tax revolt was still in process. The law allowed the military to arrest anybody for forty-eight hours who didn't pay taxes. Then he had to be released, but they could arrest him again. So he started this procedure against the butcher. Forty-eight hours, released for a day, forty-eight hours, released for a day.

So we moved the cows to farms in Beit Sahour and in nearby villages. The cows were distributed at different homes, two in each place. That was less threatening than a single mob of cows, and the governor was finally satisfied that he should stop there.

But three or four years later I was summoned to the headquarters of the regional Israeli civil administration. When I arrived, a man stood to greet me. It was the military governor. He had done well with the cows, so he was promoted very quickly. I didn't know why I was summoned, but after he finished speaking about all sorts of things, he said, “Ghassan, I want to ask you a question. Where are the cows now?" I couldn't help but laugh. He was obsessed with the cows even years later.

WE MIGHT BE ANNOYING, BUT WE'RE GOOD-HEARTED PEOPLE

During the first two years of the First Intifada I was in and out of jail. I started getting arrested more and more under administrative detention,¹⁹ I was beaten frequently. I could figure out immediately that they didn't I have enough information to be able to squeeze me. So I didn't lie, butI didn't volunteer information. They would detain me for eighteen-day stretches, which was the legal limit at the time before receiving a military charge. Then two days later they would come and arrest me for eighteen days, and then release me.

Finally, the military governor's assistant wrote me a summons for "day arrest." I had to sit at the civil administration building from eight in the morning until eight in the evening, and was then released after the Beit Sahour curfew. I had to find my way back to my home from Bethlehem, so if any soldier saw me walking the streets, I might have been shot. It continued like that for about ten days. All of my brothers were jailed at some point, too. In total, I have been to jail nine times, around four years all together. I think the Israelis targeted me because I was very successful in bringing attention to the Intifada. In fact, at that time, Israel was upset about the focus on Beit Sahour, because any small activity in Beit Sahour was like a big explosion outside. We managed to do the tax resistance and to convey the image of the Boston Tea Party, and it was covered in the New York Times. We also managed to get a United Nations Security Council resolution proposed that called Israel to stop the siege on our town and return all the goods taken in tax seizures. We forced the Americans to use the veto against the proposal. So that was really probably one of the main reasons that I was targeted with those harsh imprisonment measures-they wanted to disrupt this work because it was really annoying to them.

Still, I managed to build relations with the Israeli society, so Beit Sahour became somewhat protected. We had a lower number of casualties because the army couldn't enter Beit Sahour without seeing many foreign and Israeli journalists and activists. I started establishing relations with Israeli peace groups, which have wide connections outside. Then I started working with Palestinians living in the United States and England. When the media focused on me, more people became interested in communicating with me. Suddenly, everybody who wanted to come to Palestine either on a fact-finding mission or in a delegation wanted to meet me. So I began to develop a huge network.

I LOOKED AROUND AND SAW GUNMEN, MILITIAS, TANKS, AND SUICIDE BOMBERS

I was very busy in the years after the First Intifada. My wife and I had a son in 1990. I felt thrilled, happy, and more responsible. I also started working as a physics professor at Birzeit University.²¹ And I was trying to carry forward with the sort of resistance we had established in Beit Sahour in the Intifada. I helped to start international outreach organizations such as the Alternative Tourism Group as well as a Palestinian economic development organization. My days were very long. I used to leave home at three in the morning to have time to answer e-mails for activist organizations I was involved in, and then go teach all day, then more activist work, and I wouldn't come home until midnight. By the late nineties, I was depressed all the time. Nothing much was changing, and I thought we as Palestinians were going in the wrong direction. And my activism was making it hard to spend as much time in my community as I wanted. Then the Second Intifada erupted in 2000, and it was different than the first. Everybody was shooting each other, and I had to reconsider how the principles we put in place in the First Intifada would apply to this new one, which was more violent, I looked around and saw gunmen, militias, tanks, and suicide bombers. What the hell could we do in such an environment? But then I thought, Why not try something? I had to find a way to engage. The hardest part of any conflict is when you feel trapped between two powers, waiting to be the victim. In 1970 in Jordan I was in the middle of a conflict, but I was young, so I couldn't engage. SoSo I didn't want to repeat that experience again. So during the Second Intifada I started working with other Palestinian, Israeli, and American activists. We invited people to join what we called at that time International Solidarity Campaigns.²¹ It was an experiment.

We started with a very big action that attracted attention to us-we took over an Israeli military camp in Beit Sahour that had been bombarding Palestinian homes. We gathered around a hundred people—Palestinians, some Italians, some Israeli anti-Zionist groups, a German delegation, and a few Canadians, and we marched into the camp. The soldiers were taken by surprise, especially since they saw some Israelis with us. They didn't know what to do. They moved to the back of the camp in order to get away from us. And then a Canadian removed the Israeli flag and put up a Palestinian flag, and we declared the place liberated. After three hours, we left. There was a huge reaction to our demonstration, and we started receiving more requests for people to join in similar protests.

We decided to expand and do a campaign every two weeks. We would remove roadblocks, conduct lie-ins in front of Israeli tanks, and other things like that. We were practicing non-violent protest even in the middle of great violence. I started working with an activist named Neta Golan, and then a month later, Huwaida Arraf and Adam Shapiro came and wanted to join forces and we started planning for a big campaign. Then someone suggested calling it the International Solidarity Movement, and we thought, Why not? Every day I received forty or fifty applications from people who wanted to join. ISM raised no money—everyone paid their own expenses. We started screening people and doing trainings. I think we managed to get around 7,000 internationals to come and take part in the Palestinian struggle. Amazingly, people who were coming were university professors, lawyers, all different ages, not just young people and activists. During the First Intifada, I was jailed a lot. But, during the Second Intifada, I didn't go to jail. I benefitted a lot from the relations I established inside Israel, which provided some protection. There was an attempt within Israel to outlaw the ISM and arrest us all, but I met with members from the Labor Party in Israel and convinced them that the ISM might be annoying, but we were good-hearted people. But even if I was less vulnerable to arrest, we were all exposed to terrible violence. The army tolerated us until about 2003. That year, maybe twenty ISM volunteers reported to us that they'd been subjected to live ammunition fired very close to them. There came a point when it seemed like the soldiers started hunting us and trying to freak us out. And then Rachel Corrie and Tom Hurndall were killed. Brian Avery was shot in the face, but he survived.²²

The work with ISM was very tough. At different points, we were all, including myself, at risk of dying. I was away from my family all the time it was a round-the-clock job. There were lots of problems between the activists I had to solve, and I felt responsible for those who died. I trained Rachel Corrie here in Beit Sahour. The hardest part of my life was when I met Rachel's family, her mother and father. They came and had lunch at my home. They are great people and they started assuring me that I did nothing wrong. I faced a hard time with Tom Hurndall's parents at the beginning, but then we became very close friends. His mother is now the development director of Friends of Birzeit University, and she wrote a very powerful book called My Son Tom.

I'm proud of the work I've done with ISM and other organizations, but around 2005 or 2006 I suddenly felt that I should stop working with foreigners and Israelis and I should make the journey back to my own community. I'd been focused on reaching out to the world and traveling a lot since 1987. I was emotionally drained. So in 2006, I told the other co-founders of ISM that I was still with them, but I could no longer do administrative work. I went back to university life and became closer to my students and community. And that's what my life has been for the last ten years. When the time comes, I'll find my way to engage.

When we talk to Ghassan in July 2014, he is skeptical about the possibility of an emergent Third Intifada. He tells us, "I don't see an Intifada happening now. You smell the Intifada, you smell the emotions of people. I don't smell those emotions now. To have an Intifada, either you have glimpses of hope, or you are desperate enough to want to die. The First Intifada, hope moved us. The Second Intifada, desperation moved us."

---

Footnotes

¹ Beit Sahour is a city of around 15,000 located just east of Bethlehem. It's population is approximately 80 percent Christian.

² The Jabal Al-Hussein camp is located northwest of Amman. It was originally established in 1948 for 8,000 refugees. Today it houses nearly 30,000.

³ From the glossary -

Bedouin: An ethnic group with historical ties to the Arabian Peninsula. The Bedouin were traditionally nomadic, desert-dwelling, tribal peoples who speak Arabic. (Blogger's Note: Not sure why this is in past tense, some Bedouin are still nomadic.) Today, approximately 40,000 Bedouin live in Palestine, many in Area C of the West Bank.

⁴ From the glossary -

Six-Day War: A conflict in 1967 between Israel and Egypt, Syria, and Jordan. At the time, Gaza was administered by Egypt and the West Bank by Jordan. Following heightened tensions, border skirmishes erupted between Israeli forces and Palestinian guerillas who launched assaults on Israeli military positions from Jordan. After Egypt built near its border with Israel, Israel launched an air-assault in June, destroying Egypt's air force. The conflict drew in other neighboring states and led to a land-war victory for Israel over six days of fighting. After the fighting ended, Israel occupied the West Bank (including East Jerusalem), the Gaza Strip, the Sinai Peninsula, and Golan Heights.

⁵ The keffiyeh is a head scarf traditionally worn by Arabs. In the late 1960s, it was adopted as a symbol of Palestinian nationalism.

⁶ The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan took control of the West Bank following 1948, and it also hosted over 400,000 refugees from the 1948 war. By 1970, approximately 60 percent of the population of the greater Jordanian-controlled territory was Palestinian. In 1970, tensions between the Kingdom of Jordan and representatives of the Palestinian people such as the PLO led to civil war.

⁷ An exit exam for high school.

⁸ The Lebanese Civil War broke out in 1975 between a number of factions, but especially the PLO and Palestinian refugee militias, Lebanese Muslim militias, and leftist militias on one side and Maronite Christians (with the support of both Israel and Syria) on the other side. The war was partly precipitated by the arrival of the PLO among the 400,000 Palestinian refugees living in southern Lebanon in 1975. Attempts to drive out the PLO led to massacres in Palestinian refugee camps.

⁹ Beirut is the capital of Lebanon and was the site of the most intense fighting during the Lebanese Civil War. Today, it is a city of 361,000.

¹⁰ The Lebanese Phalanges Party is a political party that grew out of a Christian paramilitary force formed in 1936 (a youth brigade inspired by fascist youth brigades in Europe at the time). The Phalangists were a major force in the Lebanese Civil War.

¹¹ Tel-Al Zaatar was a UNRWA camp in northeast Beirut with around 50,000 Palestinian refugees. Maronite Christian militias sieged and destroyed the camp in August 1976.

¹² Al-Muskubiya (the Russian Compound") is a large compound in Jerusalem that now houses a major interrogation center and lockup, as well as courthouses and other Israeli government buildings.

¹³ The Evangelical Lutheran School of Beit Sahour was established as a co-educational primary school in 1901.

¹⁴ Bethlehem University is a Catholic co-educational school founded in 1973.

¹⁵ Reading University is located in Reading in southern England. It serves over 20,000 students.

¹⁶ The First Intifada was an uprising throughout the West Bank and Gaza against Israeli military occupation. It began in December 1987 and lasted until 1993. Intifada in Arabic means "to shake off."

¹⁷ Tal Piyot is a shopping center in Jerusalem. Eilat is a city of 50,000 at the southern tip of Israel. Eilat is an important harbor town on the Red Sea and also a popular resort and travel destination.

¹⁸ A kibbutz is a collectively run farm.

¹⁹ From the glossary -

administrative detention: A legal procedure under which detainees are held without charges or trial. Some forms of administrative detention are legal under international law during times of war and while peace agreements are negotiated between opposing factions. Many of the detainees in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, are held by the United States in administrative detention indefinitely, and the procedure has also been employed in Northern Ireland against the Irish Republican Army and in South Africa during the apartheid era. Administrative detention was employed by the British against Jewish insurgents during the British Mandate of Palestine, and the Israeli military adopted the practice at the formation of Israel. In 2014, Israel has held as many as 300 Palestinians in administrative detention. Though each term of detention is limited to a set number of days (usually a single day to as many as six months), detention can be renewed in court, meaning detainees can be held indefinitely without trial or charges. Though article 78 of the Fourth Geneva Convention grants occupying powers the right to detain persons in occupied territories for security reasons, it stipulates that this procedure should only be used for "imperative security reasons" and not as punishment. During the Second Intifada, Israel arrested tens of thousands of males between the ages of fourteen and forty-five without charges.

²⁰ Birzeit University is a renowned public university located just outside Ramallah. It hosts approximately 8,500 undergraduates.

²¹ The International Solidarity Movement (ISM) was founded by Ghassan Andoni and other Palestinian, Israeli, and American activists in 2001. The organization calls on citizens from around the world to engage in nonviolent protests against the military occupation of Palestine.

²² Rachel Corrie was an American ISM volunteer who was killed by the Israeli military in Rafah in 2003. She was crushed to death by a bulldozer while trying to defend a Palestinian man's home from demolition. Tom Hurndall was a British photography student who was shot by an Israeli sniper in Rafah in 2003 (after a nine month coma he died in 2004). Brian Avery was an ISM volunteer who was reportedly shot by Israeli soldiers while walking with friends in the West Bank city of Jenin.

[some-kindofgnome]

meet me in the afterglow

After college graduation, you took an all-summer backpacking trip around Europe with your best friend. Now you've got one last night together before coming home as lovers.

characters: eijirou kirishima x f!reader

wc: 2.4k

tags: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, quirkless au, implied friends-to-lovers, fluff, mentions of drinking/the sliiiiightest bit of tipsiness, swedish condoms, no beta we die like that bottle of wine

notes: @the-moons-raes and I discussed travelling with BNHA boys at some length a lil while ago, so I wrote this sweet lil scene for her! Consider it a (very) belated birthday present my dear. 💖 xoxoo

MASTERLIST

The sky’s faded from powder-blue to apricot by the time you stumble together into the bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you giggle. You’ve been grinning all night, so hard it’s starting to hurt your wine-warmed cheeks. But this is the happiest you’ve been in a very long time.

“That was,” Eijirou starts, “one of the- no, the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“We should’ve ordered another bottle of that wine,” you muse. He’s got his hands on your hips and you twist in his grip, curling your fingers around his palms. His face has gone pink, but his eyes are sparkling and you’ve already decided you want to preserve this feeling for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think you need anything else to drink tonight,” he teases smoothly, pulling you close with his fingertips digging into the gauzy fabric of your dress. He leans down and pushes his lips against yours, the last tartness of the strawberry gelato you finished on the boardwalk still lingering in the tender flick of his tongue.

Tonight falls at the tail end of a long backpacking trip across Europe that you’ve been wanting to take for as long as you can remember. You’d never planned to take anybody with you at all, let alone the man you’d wind up falling for.

But Eiji’s always been pretty good at defying your expectations.

The rest of the summer hasn’t been this glamorous. You’d spent most nights shacked up in rickety little hostel beds, bunking together in rooms of six or camping out in the backseat of a tiny rental car. But the sleepless nights and sore backs and restricted luggage hadn’t changed a thing. You’ve been in heaven all summer long.

To celebrate your last couple of nights in this hemisphere, you checked into one of Naples’ top-rated hotels. It’s still not the most luxurious room on the market, but compared to the military-issue bunk beds you’ve been sleeping on for the past eight weeks, it might as well be paradise.

Especially now, given the changed nature of your relationship.

You got on the plane together two months ago nursing a deep, intense crush on your best friend. You’ve been close with Eijirou since your first year in college together, when he was assigned to the dorm room beside yours. And for as long as you’d known him, you assumed you’d be loving him from a distance.

But somewhere between Brussels and Berlin, the line between friend and lover started to blur. Since then, it’s been completely erased.

“Come on,” you protest, flinging your arms around his neck and clasping them together behind his head. “I can hardly feel a thing.”

He ran out of hair gel two weeks ago and he’s been wearing his hair down ever since, tied into a loose little ponytail at the nape of his neck. The dark roots of his natural colour are starting to show at his crown after going nearly two months without so much as a haircut.

To you, he’s never looked sweeter.

“That’s my point,” he insists, descending into tipsy, cheerful laughter. “You’re so drunk y’can’t feel a thing. C’mere, it’s time to get you to bed.”

His euphoric grin twists around the edges with mischief as he stoops, sweeping you off your feet with a quiet little grunt of effort. You burst out laughing, letting one arm drop around his neck as your head falls back in deepening mirth.

“Take me to bed,” you swoon, dropping purposely limp in his arms. You haven’t been able to do any of this since that night in Athens a couple of weeks ago where you miraculously had an entire hostel bunkroom to yourselves.

Even then, those cots didn’t make it easy.

Tonight you’ve got a king bed all to yourselves, which Kirishima plants you on before crossing to the window and throwing it open. The night air is velvety and sweet, rolling in like heady steam and waking your senses as you watch him ditch his shoes and crawl across the plush bedspread to settle down beside you.

“You are insanely beautiful,” he croons, propping one head on his arm and smoothing his fingers affectionately down your temple. “I can’t believe I get to tell you that.”

He leans in to kiss you after that, tasting you carefully as his hand drifts from your cheek to your neck to your side. He’s a careful kisser, tasting of the last hints of that sweet summer wine that’s filled both your heads.

Picking up on your eagerness, he breaks from your lips to push attentive little kisses down the side of your neck. But as he reaches the hem of the floaty little dress you wear, he pauses and finds your eye.

“Can I?”

He’s already sliding one palm down over the curve of your hip, but it pauses at your thigh, and the earnest little quirk in his brow is so cute you can’t help but giggle.

“Do you really need to ask?” you quip.

He hums thoughtfully against your skin, already mouthing at your collarbone. “Just making sure.”

There are oversized buttons lining the center front of your dress, and he takes his time popping open every single one. He opens the dress far enough that he could have easily pulled it down over your hips, but he doesn’t stop there. Instead, you get to watch as he works open the last button with quiet, deep concentration, and when he finally does, he pushes the folds open around your body with a loving little triumphant smile.

“There’s my girl,” he croons as he crawls atop you once more, shedding his sweaty t-shirt in the process. You’re chest-to-chest when he catches your lips again, and his skin is still a little warm from the afternoon you’d spent at the beach before dinner.

He kisses you long and low and slow, giving you plenty of time to let your thighs fall open around the slope of his hips. Eiji presses naturally forward, pushing the ridge of his pelvis and the stiff denim of his shorts against your flimsy underwear. He huffs quietly into your mouth, and as you shift and squirm beneath him you can feel his cock stirring against you.

“Eiji,” you whimper, turning your face sharply to one side. “Don’t make me wait.”

In the absence of your mouth, he noses attentively down the column of your throat. His eyelashes flutter at your jaw and you feel it when he purses his lips and swallows hard.

“Okay,” he rasps. “Okay, I gotcha.” He rears back, sitting up on his haunches to unbutton his shorts. Before he gets up to shed them, he rests a hand on the plane of your belly, smiling so innocently down at you it shouldn’t make you throb.

But it does.

“Ready for me already, pretty girl?” Eiji muses, and you have to bite your lip hard to keep from rolling over and screaming into your pillow as loudly as possible.

“Been ready for you since the beach,” you tease back, and it works, since his ears are turning red as he slips out of bed. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his undershorts and shucks both garments in one smooth motion, hunching over to let them drop to the floor while he steps unceremoniously out of them.

His cock’s half-hard already, sitting full and heavy between his thighs and swelling self-consciously under your gaze. He’s exactly as big as you always sort of knew he was. He’s not shy about it, either. He can’t afford to be.

But he doesn’t know how beautiful he is, sunburned and sweating in the fading golden-hour light of your last sunset in Italy. You want to pet the soft little bristle of dark hair that dusts his chest, follow the taper of it all the way down to that perfect trail that always used to disappear under his shorts.

Not anymore. You get to see him at his most vulnerable now.

And you will not misuse that trust.

“Come here,” you purr, pushing yourself onto your elbows so he can see the desire burning in your gaze for him.

He leans instinctively toward you, hands twitching by his sides. He snaps out of a little reverie with a hard blink, stooping in front of his shorts and fishing out his slim little travel wallet.

“Hang on.”

He flips through the creased euros and museum tickets, carding out a wrapped condom. He climbs back onto the bed and passes it to you with a shy little grin.

“I know you like to do the honours.”

The condom comes from a packet you bought in the wee hours at some twenty-four hour roadside convenience store before bedding down in a rented car together. The instructions are in Swedish, but you know what you’re doing.

By the time you get the condom unwrapped, Eiji’s on his knees in front of you and his cock is fully hard out of sheer anticipation. You reach between his thighs and wrap your fingers around his warm flesh, making him shudder. And you drop one sweet, warm kiss to his mouth before you focus.

He rolls his hips quietly into your touch as you handle the job with delicate precision, unrolling the condom all the way to his base.

“Ready?” He asks you, but you’re already laying back against the pillows and thumbing off your underwear, slick and aching for him.

“Get over here before I start without you,” you tease, and he is powerless to resist you. He anchors himself on his knees, hooking each of your legs over one of his powerful thighs. He reaches for you and his cock sweeps the inside of your thigh as it bobs between you. You’ve been wanting this from the moment you saw this room, the perfect ending to a life-changing trip.

Eiji sinks lower, letting the barrel of his chest rise and fall with a deep, steadying breath. He reaches between you to line himself up with you, casting his eyes up to yours when he feels you.

“Ready?” He repeats himself, and this time the humor’s gone. You nod quietly against the pillow and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together tightly.

You squeeze hard as he starts to slot himself inside you. He stretches you deeply, especially without any preparation. But he knows how to keep you comfortable, moving slowly and smoothly. He braces a hand on your belly as he bottoms out, but he does not pause there. Instead, he starts to ease into a lazy rhythm, sweeping his thumb between your folds to find the swelling nub of your clit.

“Fuck,” you whine, and he flinches a little inside you.

“God,” he gasps, bending over to press his forehead- sticky with sweat- into yours. “Tell me I’m not dreaming, yeah?”

You reach up and lightly pinch his chest with your free hand, and he grins above you.

“You’re good,” you confirm, hearing the breathlessness echo in your own voice.

“I’m not gonna last long like this,” he brushes. You shake your head.

“Don’t care. Just fuck me.”

His brow lifts against yours. After a chuckle of disbelief, he sits up.

“Aye aye, captain.”

He squeezes your fingers tightly and begins to thrust.

He does not hold back with you, keeping the pad of his thumb winding tight circles into your clit as he fucks you with eager diligence. You revel in the slap of your bodies, the fact that you can spread out and make noise, moan for him like you’ve always wanted to. Finally alone together for real. No stolen moments of privacy here. You can take as much as you want.

“Eiji,” you beg, beginning to clench around him as you feel the first twinges of your climax approaching.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he huffs, borderline incoherent as the flush spreads down his neck and chest. “Let go for me, I gotcha.”

In a dozen thrusts he’s got you falling, letting high whimpers escape your throat as your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick shaft. He rubs you diligently through your climax, fucking you steadily until you whine and paw his hand away, overstimulated and sensitive.

“I’m there,” he promises. “I’m there, I’m there, I’m….. f-fuck!” His jaw falls slack as he throws his head back, thrusting headlong into a tight climax that has him trembling against you. His hips go still, but you can feel the way his cock twitches inside your spent walls as he fills the condom.

When he’s finished he stays there for a moment, shoulders dropping while the rest of his body goes slack. He reaches up, scraping sweaty strands of hair off his forehead before he grins sleepily down at you.

“Did you…” He starts, eyes turning inquisitive. Someday he’ll be able to tell, but for now you’re just glad he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you hum, eyes bright despite the weight setting quickly into your limbs. It’s worth it for the pride that surges visibly through him, and he pulls out of you with a triumphant grin spreading his lips.

“Good,” he gushes, slipping quietly away to dispose of the condom. He’s hardly gone for a handful of seconds, and when he comes back he crawls eagerly up to your side and pulls you into his arms, curling his body attentively around yours.

“This is nice,” you confess, drifting pleasantly in the wine-and-sex-induced fog that rests heavy in your brain.

“Hmm?” Eiji’s already half-asleep above you, eyelids drooping as the light fades from the window beside the bed.

“This,” you prompt again. “Not having to get dressed again right away. We should do this more often.”

“I sure hope we do,” he enthuses. “When we get back, I’m not letting you unpack until we consummate our relationship on the right hemisphere.”

That was the longest you’d gone around him without laughing in a while. Even half-asleep, though, his wisecracks are enough to make you snort.

“Deal,” you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as the world bleeds out of focus around you. It’s not even eight o’clock and you’re sure you’ll have him again before nightfall. But for now, you’re more than happy to bask in the afterglow with the one person in the world you never thought you’d make it there with.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Out of the Question

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hargrove!Reader

Warnings: none really, just two idiots who don’t want to admit their attraction, Robin being the best ofc

Words: 1260

Summary: Liking (y/n) Hargrove was absolutely out of the question.

As per usual, Starcourt was jam packed with people of all ages. You hated the crowds but your step-sister Max loved the giant shopping mall so you decided to humor her. This summer you barely got to hang out with her since she was always with her boyfriend and his group of friends. Not that you minded much. You were happy she found friends. It was hard being the new kid in a completely different town let alone state. She found her own crew all by herself. Before that it had just been the two of you hanging out (since Billy loathed her with an intensity you couldn’t understand). She taught you a lot about video games and comic books and in turn you showed her what good music really was. Not the sugary pop that so many of the girls at your school loved. No, you showed her metal. Iron Maiden, Slayer, Def Lepperd, Black Sabbath and their like.

Now it was just you and Billy. And when he wasn’t busy canoodling with girls he spent his time either working out or at his job as a lifeguard at the Hawkins pool. So really, you hadn’t gotten a chance to hang out with any of your siblings. You had a few friends yourself but they were busy with work too or away at some summer camp.

“We should get our pictures taken!” Max exclaims excitedly, pointing to the upstairs portion of the mall. You could barely make out the neon sign of the photo place that Max had been referring to. So many people milled around you, jostling you every so often.

You nod. “Sounds like a plan, but first I want some ice cream! I’m really craving (favorite ice cream flavor).”

Her pale blue eyes light up at the mention of ice cream. Face breaking out into a grin as she’s already making her way to Scoops Ahoy, not even caring if she bumped into people. You loved that about Max. You were definitely lucky to get a cool step-sister.

Laughing carefree, you shout at her to wait up and run after her. It was a difficult task in your bulky boots but you managed to catch up with her just as she stopped in front of the ice cream parlor. You peer through the glass door to see all sorts of girls and couples enjoying their ice cream cones. You lick your lips and scamper inside, pulling Max along with you. Eyeing the glass containers like a hawk, you searched for your prey.

“What can I get for. . .”

“Holy shit. Harrington?”

Steve’s eyes gape at you from under his white little sailor cap that hid his luxurious chestnut hair. “(y-y/n). . .”

Your cheeks hurt from how much you’re smiling. “Oh my god Steve. You look so cute!!” That wasn’t a lie. You did find him incredibly adorable in his little sailor uniform. His coworker next to him attempts to hold in her laugh but even you know she’s struggling to keep a straight face. Even Max is grinning.

Cheeks illuminating in a pink glow, Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs nervously. “Ah, thanks.” He offers you a shy smile. “It’s good to see you (y/n). How’s your summer been?”

Snorting you lean against the glass. “Boring. If I had known I’d be this bored I would have gotten a job. This one here is always with her boyfriend-”

“Am not!” Max interjects.

“-And Billy is always working too.” You bemoan. Then you turn your eyes up at him. “I see your summer has been good though.”

“Yeah it’s been-”

“Hey!” A little girl behind you pushes you out of the way. Max narrows her eyes at the girl and her friends as they swarm the front. “I want a sample!”

The girl behind the counter who’s name tag read ‘Robin’, grimaces and nudges Steve out of the way. “Go ahead and take them in the back.”

“You sure?” He hesitantly asks.

“Go before I change my mind. This is the first time I’ve seen a girl interested in you.” Robin replies dryly.

That makes Steve blush even more. He shakes his head and leads you and Max into the backroom of the store. You and Max tell him what type of ice cream you want and he promptly returns with two cones. Max immediately digs in while Steve grabs a chair for the two of you to catch up. Despite your brother hating his guts you really liked Steve. He was funny and cute to boot. You weren’t in the same grade as him but he was such a friendly guy that he easily befriended you, the new girl in town. The new girl that wore combat boots, fishnet stockings and metal band tank tops. He never treated you any differently like a lot of the kids did in the beginning. Needless to say you developed a little crush on him. Your other friends had discouraged you on making any sort of move. He was still getting over his break up with Nancy Wheeler. You and his ex were nothing alike. She was prim, proper, and pretty while you were grungy, hardcore rocker, and. . . well, you weren’t exactly beautiful.

Comparing yourself to Nancy, you already knew you weren’t his type. To make things worse, Billy would throw a fit whenever he saw you and Steve hanging out. You wouldn’t fool yourself into imagining what Billy would do if you actually did date Steve. That would never be an issue because it would never happen. Steve would never be into you like that.

Even though it made you sad you would never try and change yourself into something you weren’t. You didn’t want him to like you because you made yourself into someone like Nancy.

It would never happen though. There was no way he could ever like you more than a friend.

*

Steve watches as (y/n) and her younger sister skip out of the parlor, happy as larks now that their bellies were full with sugary ice cream.

He smiles to himself, he had missed her this summer.

“She’s cute.” Flippantly, Robin comments as she had caught Steve’s lingering eyes. “Is she your girlfriend?”

That accusation makes Steve sputter. “(y/n)?! No. . . Of course not. We’re just friends.”

Of course Robin knew it was complete bullshit. “Then why are you blushing so much?” Immediately he covers his face with his hand. Compared to his chilly hands, his face was burning. He repeats “She’s just a friend. I could never like her like that. It’s out of the question.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because she’s all. . .” Steve lifts his arms in the direction of the entrance of Scoops Ahoy. “Well, you saw her.”

Robin’s eyes become slits. “Come on Harrington. That’s utterly juvenile. You’re not in high school anymore and (y/n) seems like a great girl. Don’t be stupid.” She turns back to help customers that had been lining up while they were talking. Over her shoulder, Robin tells him "Eh, she's too cool for you anyway." Steve opens his mouth to speak again, but there were no words of opposition that came out. Of course he knew that. He knew (y/n) was an amazing girl. Funny and sweet despite how she dressed, how could she be related to Billy?

It was childish to still be thinking like that. (y/n) deserved more. She deserved better.

He didn’t want to admit to Robin that she was right though. Now that would be out of the question.

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

[INSTAGRAM]

♡ 602 likes

y/n Humph!

129 Comments | Tagged: cherylbombshell

view comments

♡ 584 likes

Cheryl busy being my own icon

98 Comments | Tagged: y/i/n

view comments

"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Wow - the response i received in a little under 24 hours since i posted the first taste of part 1 has truly bowled me over! I wasn't expecting that reaction & tbh i would have been happy if 2 people wanted to read this story hahaha! So, i've been writing in the background & the first few parts have already been proofed and are ready to go. HOWEVER! I am open to your suggestions so please please let me know what you think and how you want to see Amelia's story play out. As far as i'm concerned, this fic is as much yours as it is mine! So please enjoy this first part, in its entirety, and let me know your thoughts! Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 1 | prima parte

warnings; none - maybe a bit of angst? (what sibling rivalry doesn't have a bit of angst)

word count; 1978 words

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Sunday 25/07 5pm AEST. Updates will be twice weekly at this stage. Probably Wednesday’s and Sundays from next week!!

link to fic masterlist here

The world of football, no matter how big it may seem, is as tight as a close-knit family. Whether its management staff, senior players, scouts, academy players, business developers, medical team, groundskeeper - everyone knows someone who knows someone else involved in the sport. For Amelia White, it was a family affair.

Having grown up with her father as a senior tactical analyst for many different clubs throughout his career, and an older brother currently playing for Brighton in the Premier League, there was no opportunity for her to escape the fanaticism of the sport. It was what her household lived and breathed, football. Most would think that, with her brother being as successful as he is now, her childhood was shadowed by her brother's success but that's not the case. She capitalised on her ability to think both logically and creatively, and absorbed all of the information her father could give her as if she was a sponge, to establish a name of her own in the sport and advance her career in the sport. At the age of 21 she upped and left the comforts of her home in West London, accepted a position at Juventus within their graduate program & worked her way up the ranks to be their youngest tactical analyst by the age of 24.

So far in her career, the support of her mother, father & brother were unmatched by any. They were all so proud of her for making her own name, proving herself and succeeding in one of the most competitive football leagues in the world. She was smart, tactful, both meticulous and ruthless in her approach to her career and the success of her players. Because after all, they were her players. She worked day in and day out, studying them and their opponents, drafting performance plans and set pieces for every possible outcome of the play, so that they could perform at their best. They had her trust and faith, and she had theirs. This is probably what her family was most proud of, and wished her every success, until she was appointed as a tactical analyst for the Italian National Team for the upcoming Euro 2020 tournament. Which happened to be the same tournament that her brother had received his call up to the Three Lions. Which was the current level at which her father was a senior tactical analyst for the English National Team. The Euro 2020 Tournament was about to be a real family affair...

10 July 2021

It had been 2 months since she last had any contact with her family. 3 months ago, Amelia signed a contract with the Federcalcio, the governing body of football in Italy, to become the Azzurri’s tactical analyst for the foreseeable European Football Championship. In turn, her silky signature at the bottom of the agreement, also constituted a digital and physical contact ban with members of her family that were also involved with the tournament...her father and her brother.

At the time of the contract, and against her better judgement, Amelia hadn’t told her family of her opportunity. She knew her father would be proud, but her brother would be bitter. Her mother was switzerland, completely neutral and rooting for both of her children - but that's not how football works. No matter your role you have a job to do, and you do everything you can to make sure it is your team that lifts the trophy at the end of the tournament. So, on May 23rd her family congratulated her for another successful season at Juventus, and unbeknownst to them, said goodbye for the next 2 months. Until the day before the final match of the tournament, Italy v. England.

Her heart dropped when England won their semi final match against Denmark. She wanted nothing more than for her brother to be happy and for her father to succeed, but she didn’t want to have to go up against them in the final. Ultimately, she knew they were good, but she also knew that she could hold her own and compete with the best. Having a close relationship with her brother, up until this period, meant that she often paid attention to the premier league. This was a major benefit to her as she had already started analysing the azzurri’s opponents. It was her job to know what foot Raheem Sterling preferred to pass with, what direction Declan Rice preferred to take the ball up the field, what direction of receiving the ball did Harry Maguire struggle the most with. So that's how she spent the three days between matches, solidifying her knowledge of her opponents & predicting the plays her dad would be instructing the English team to complete, to attempt to outperform the Italians. However nothing would prepare her for the knock on her suite door, or for what was on the other side…

_____________________________________________________________

“Ciao Amelia, vieni con me per favore. abbiamo organizzato una visita supervisionata con tuo fratello prima della finale di domani sera. sorpresa!” (hi amelia, come with me please. we have arranged a supervised visit with your brother prior to the final tomorrow night. surprise!). I stood there in shock staring at one of my players & closest friends, Federico Bernardeschi. I was a person who didn't enjoy spontaneity, who thrived off of preparation and organisation. I needed the opportunity to overthink every situation so that I could prepare for every possible outcome. This was not my idea of a good time. Of course I missed my brother, but I know just how volatile he can be. Nevertheless, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my sneakers on before following Fede down the hall and into a blacked out van that was waiting to take me to St. George’s Park for my family reunion.

Upon arriving, and after a stern pep talk from Fede (who was my appointed supervisor for the visit - not sure I would say he was the most responsible choice but he did talk some sense into me) I walked into the main entrance and saw my father leaning against the reception desk waiting for me.

“Papa!!” I called as I walked over to him, ready to smother him with my love and affection. My father, Dean White, and I had as good of a relationship as possible, being that he was always heavily involved with my brother Ben’s footballing career as well as his own. I think when I came along, my father didn't know how to be a girl dad, so he took my mothers advice and just involved me like he would Ben. I was glad that I would be seeing him first, and he would be taking me to see my no-doubt pissed off brother.

“Dad, this is Fede, one of my players”

“Ciao Dean, it’s very nice to meet you but i am also her bodyguard for this evening” Fede introduced himself to my father and they exchanged pleasantries. I had a look around the foyer of the facility until I heard my name brought up in conversation.

“Amelia, come on. The boys are just over here. I don’t think you have long before heading back to your camp” My dad called to me. Boys? As in...more than just my brother?

“Hahaha that's funny dad, just show me to his room and we can have our screaming match there. Should only be about 20 or so minutes”

“Ben’s not in his room, we have a recreation room for the players and staff to lounge about and relax in. Pretty sure he’ll be in there. Come on, you’ve never been scared of your brother before. Why start now?” Before I knew it, Dad was leading us through some doors and into a large common area with bean bags, pool tables and couches - all occupied by current first team members of the English National Football team.

“Dean mate, don’t normally see you down here after 7pm. Oh look at that, someone let the trash in.” A loud mouthed player, that I used to adore as if he was my own brother, calls out as he notices us enter the room. And just like that, I shake off my nerves, stand in front of my taller & more argumentative bodyguard, relax my shoulders and stare into the eyes of Kyle Walker - daring him to challenge me and push me further.

“Relax Kyle, Benjamin White - your sister is here to see you.” Dad cut Kyle off. I didn’t need him to defend me against Kyle’s harsh comments, I could defend myself.

“Wow, I thought hell would freeze over before I got the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, I didn't realise hell would look quite like seeing you in that shade of blue.” My brother, Ben, spoke bitterly at me as he approached me from the other side of the room. This, coupled with Walker’s exclamation earlier, got the attention of the majority of the players scattered about.

“Ben, if you let me explain in private I'm sure you will be able to understand why things had to be this way” I tried to reason with him. Letting go of my always-defensive guard and pleading with my big brother to open his mind to see my side of the story.

“As if I would even talk to you right now, the night before the final, you’re probably here to try and get some insider information. Boys make sure you don’t say anything to her, she’s as sly as they come” Ben’s words were as sharp as a knife - but I knew what I had to say would cut him deeper.

“Ok that's enough! You are ridiculous! What did you expect me to do? Not take the job because you’re my brother? This is my career we are talking about here” I challenged him. “If you think for one second i stopped supporting you then you must be even more stupid than i thought. Of course this isn't the ideal situation, I'm proud of you for reaching a final but I'm just as proud of myself for doing the same thing.” I got progressively closer to my brother, who stood there with his hands beside himself, unable to get a word in.

“I came tonight to wish you good luck, to tell you I loved you, to give you a hug and tell you to stay safe and play smart. Whilst I still wish all of this for you, I now want you to know that I want you to play your best so I can be better than you. I can show you exactly how good at my job I am. I want you to know that no matter what way you play the ball, I'll be right there waiting for you. I am prepared for this, I hope you are too - so that it will feel that much more sweet when we beat you” I sneered at my older brother, who at this point, is quite visibly feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

I take a step back, let out a breath and shake the tension from my shoulders. Breaking eye contact with my brother, I look briefly - yet confidently - at the other players in the room and take a step back. I turned to my dad, who was looking at me solemnly, as though he wasn’t happy with my outburst but understood it came from a place of frustration with my sibling. Walking up, giving him a kiss on the cheek and wishing him luck, I turned to look at Fede and began to walk to the door. This interaction with my brother, although supposed to be a nice moment shared between siblings, has only gone and motivated me to be at my best tomorrow, to prepare my players to go to war and to come out the other side victorious.

Part 2 | seconda parte

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Ask the Stars [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.

Requested: Yes l No

A/N: I’ve had this idea floating around for a while and finally decided to write it and it flowed liked nobodies business! I LOVED writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it. Special thanks to the angel @dreatine who gave me the title for this fic and showing me the beautiful song the title is from (lyrics for which can be found throughout). Set pre-BAU.

CW: swearing, drinking, mutual pining, friends to lovers, age gap between consenting adults, virgin! Spencer, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, groping. I think that’s everything!

Plot: growing up together, best friends Spencer and the reader have always been secretly in love with one another. But a night together under the stars might be too little too late and with Spencer moving to DC and you to Idaho, that one night may be all you ever get.

WC: 12.2K

—————————————————————

Ask the stars up in the sky,

Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.

Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,

There’s a little star that’s watching you.

Ask the stars when you’re with me,

Ask the stars then watch and see.

Las Vegas, Nevada - 2003

Spencer didn’t think he would have made it through the last ten years of his life and been where he was now if it hadn't been for the family next door.

He was just twelve years old when they’d moved in, struggling to cope with high school bullies and his mom's schizophrenia all on his own.

They would help out with his mom in any way they could, they had him round for dinner when it was too tough for him to go home and they took him along on their annual camping trips every year.

They had been there for him when he’d had to have his mom committed when he was eighteen. They were kind, friendly people. They treated Spencer like their own son.

He liked to pretend when he was with them that they were his family. He liked to play pretend, that he had a loving father and a mom who wasn’t sick.

He lived in a fantasy world whenever he was with them.

But Spencer’s favourite part about the family next door by far, was their daughter, Y/N.

You were four years Spencer’s junior, just an adorable eight year old when you’d moved in next door to the young genius and his mother. The two of you had grown up together and somewhere along the way attraction and feelings developed.

Of course neither one of you had ever said as much. You were best friends, you didn’t want to risk destroying that by confessing your feelings for him.

And besides, at the end of the summer the two of you were going your separate ways; you were off to college in Idaho and Spencer was moving to DC for his illustrious new job at the FBI.

This was the last chance the two of you had to spend time together before everything inevitably changed. So maybe going on a camping trip with your parents at eighteen was a little lame. But there was one reason and one reason alone you were going on the trip.

Spencer Reid.

***

Just as you were lugging the last of your bags out of the front door, you heard the front gate creak open.

Your eyes shot up and landed instantly on his as he slipped through the gate.

You immediately dropped the bag on the floor and were dashing down the front steps and down the path.

“Spence!” You squealed, running at him at speed.

He caught you in his arms and the two of you almost went tumbling back to the concrete but he managed to steady you both.

“Whoa Y/N,” he laughed, wrapping you tightly in his arms. “I missed you too.”

You clung to your best friend, breathing in his scent. He’d only been gone two months finishing up his third PhD, but it felt like forever.

The last few years Spencer’s studies had taken him away from Vegas much more than you would have both liked. He’d missed the last two family camping trips and they had been so dull without him.

You were so happy to have him back for one last trip.

“It’s so good to see you.” You smiled, pulling back from the hug to get a proper look at him. Of course over the years you’d memorised every sculpted curve of his face, those sharp cheekbones, deep set eyes and sinfully plump lips but you would never tire of looking at him.

“Y/N, Spencer, it’s time to go!” Your mom hollered from the street, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Give me a hand with my bag?”

“Of course.” He smiled, following up the path to the house.

You felt lighter when Spencer was around, like all of your worries and fears just melted away.

You had no idea how you would cope with him in DC while you were in Idaho. But that was a problem for another day.

For now you were just revelling in Spencer’s presence.

***

Admittedly camping with your parents was never a terrible experience. Your dad was the outdoorsy type, your mom was not. So they compromised.

Yes you were in the woods but your mom would not allow sleeping in rustic tents. Every year she booked up the most glamorous of tents for your stays. Wood flooring, real beds, even nightstands and lamps.

So technically you were sleeping in a tent, but it was just as comfortable, if not more so than your bedroom at home. The site was equipped with showers and real toilets. It wasn’t really like camping at all.

“Oh Spencer sweetie,” your mom called to him as you were unpacking the car several hours of driving later.

“Yes?” He looked up at her with a smile.

“Did Y/N tell you, we weren’t able to book three pods this year, I must have called late. I hope it’s ok for the two of you to share?”

Wow. Your mom was a better liar than you pegged her to be.

Even your dad seemed to fall for it.

When she’d told you a few days ago, you’d seen right through it.

You knew your mom had known for a long time of your crush on your genius neighbour. She’d probably known before even you did.

So you didn’t question it when she’d told you she’d only been able to book two camping pods, but you were sure your blush gave away exactly what you thought about it.

“Uhm yeah I guess that’s fine.” He shrugged and was that a blush you saw spreading to his cheeks? “I’ve got my sleeping bag, I can just sleep on the floor.”

Not if I have anything to do with it, you thought but his response seemed to appease your father.

Once Spencer went back to emptying the bags from the car your mom gave you a look and a small smirk.

You tried not to blush. Your mom had always been pretty cool for a mom and you had never been more grateful for that until right now.

You finished unpacking the car and took your stuff to your allocated tent to change before heading down to the lake.

Spencer took some clothes to the toilets to change and you spent longer than was necessary picking out the perfect bathing suit.

The last time Spencer had seen you in a bathing suit was two years ago and boy had your body changed in two years. You couldn’t wait to show it off to him.

You just hoped he liked what he saw.

***

Thankfully Spencer had already dived into the water before you took off your summer dress and unsheathed the glorious body you were hiding underneath the fabric.

The water made for a great way to hide the erection that almost immediately grew when he saw you in that bathing suit.

He tried not to look at you, mostly because your parents were there and he was sure they wouldn’t be happy with him gawking over their daughter.

But he was in essence, a cold blooded male. He’d had a crush on you for about as long as he could remember, you’d grown up together, surely it was only inevitable?

But you were his best friend. You were the only real friend he’d ever had. And he didn’t want to ruin that by sexualising you. But god that would be so much easier to do if you weren’t so damn hot.

When had you stopped being the adorable girl next door who used to play with her pony toys in the front yard? When did you become this drop dead gorgeous woman standing before him in a scantily clad bathing suit?

You had changed since the last time he’d seen you in so little clothes. You’d developed curves in what Spencer thought was all the right places.

You looked up and your eyes met his and you gave him a bright smile that made him feel a little weak. You walked to the edge of the lake and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

You walked with poise, a sense of a confidence Spencer could never muster. He watched as you dove into the water so gracefully, and re-emerge a few feet in front of him.

You pushed your wet hair off your face and waded closer to him, wiping the water from your eyes.

Spencer felt a lump forming in his throat the closer you got. His eyes betrayed him and they fell to your chest, the water droplets rolling over your skin shimmered in the sun.

How I want to lick those beads of water off your skin.

“You ok?” You laughed, coming to a stop in front of him.

“M-me? Y-yes why wouldn’t I b-be.” He stuttered at the close proximity he now found himself in to you. He could reach out and touch you. He could reach out and kiss you.

He did neither.

“Come here,” he raised your hands out of the water. “Your hair is going to get in your eyes.”

You gently stroked a strand of Spencer’s wet hair out of his face and it sent a shiver racing up his spine.

His cock was aching. He’d never been touched by a woman in such a way. He’d never been touched by a woman in any way and honestly it felt like he could blow his load just from you stroking back his hair.

“Much better.” You smiled at him, leaving him feeling a little downtrodden when you withdrew your hand.

“Uh thanks.” He croaked, feeling light headed.

“You’re welcome.”

For a moment the two of you stared at each other, eyes locked as though communicating subconsciously.

Spencer wanted to grab hold of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to pull you close and feel your body pressed up against his own, run his fingers over your every curve.

He wanted his hands to get lost in your hair. He wanted to bury himself between your thighs. He wanted to feel you, to taste you.

Honestly you were thinking the same, he just didn’t know it. His white t-shirt cling to his skin now soaked in water and you could just make out the soft skin of his chest underneath. You wanted to run your hands over that skin, through his hair, over every part of his body.

You wanted to feel him inside of you, his fingers, his cock, anything. You wanted to stare deep into his eyes while he made you come.

All of a sudden Spencer snapped out of his trance before he did something to make a fool of himself.

“I’ll race you to the next dock!” He dove beneath the surface before you had time to register his words.

You watched him go, splashing a lot as he swam, gangly limbs flailing.

It took you a few seconds to pick your mind up out of the gutter and start swimming after him.

Being the much more adept swimmer, despite Spencer’s head start you managed to beat him to the next dock.

He was much more out of breath than you when he arrived.

“How did you get into the FBI again?” You laughed as he gripped hold of the dock for dear life.

“They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field.” He panted.

“Clearly.” You teased. “Ohh and look, we’re right by the jet ski hire!” You pulled yourself up on the dock and sat on the edge looking down at Spencer.

“You know I hate those things. Did you know there are around seven hundred jet ski related accidents every year which results in approximately forty deaths? I don’t like those odds, I’ll wait on the dock.”

He tried and failed to get out of the water and in the end you had to help hoist him up.

“No way, you're coming with me.” You stood up and pulled him to his feet as well.

“I most certainly am not.” He made the mistake of looking into your eyes. Those beautiful expressive eyes that could probably make him commit murder.

“Please?” You asked softly and he was like putty in your hands.

“F-fine.” He grumbled.

“Yay!” You squealed a little, throwing yourself into his arms.

Your body pressed up against his and he tentatively wrapped his arms around you.

Your wet bathing suit and his wet t-shirt clung to each other and he could feel your every curve.

Thankfully you pulled away before he got too excited. You took hold of his hand now and started leading him towards the hire booth.

Honestly he’d let you lead him anywhere.

***

Spencer was still shaking almost ten minutes after pulling up in the small alcove a way up the lake and dismounting the jet ski.

He’d enjoyed the close proximity with you it had involved but it didn’t make up for the sheer terror of your haphazard driving.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You laughed staring down at him as he laid on the grass.

“All I’ll say is, if you drove a car like that I would never let you drive me anywhere.”

“It’s a jet ski Einstein, they are supposed to go fast.” You nudged his ribs with your toe. “Get up, we need to head back.”

“I would literally rather swim back.” He groaned.

You rolled your eyes, nudging his ribs again.

“It’s probably almost a mile back, don’t be so dramatic.” You leant over him and took hold of his hands, pulling him into a sitting position. “How about you drive? That way we can go at a granny pace.”

“Funny.” He grumbled, getting to his feet. “But I will drive actually. I’d rather not die of a heart attack on this lake.”

You slid the rubber band over your hand that the key dangled from and tossed it at Spencer.

He flapped about trying to catch it and just managed to stop it falling to the floor.

You got in your positions on the jet ski. You wrapped yourself tighter around him than was necessary, your arms snaking around his waist and resting on his stomach.

Spencer shuddered but he hoped you would think it was due to the wind.

It could have been the wind but the timing seemed a little too convenient. Did your touch really have that effect on him? He’d never given you any indication that he liked you in that way, but could it be possible? Maybe you would have to test that out.

Spencer took a tentative breath and started the jet ski’s engine. You tightened your hold on him as it started moving.

Spencer was slow to start with just like you had assumed he would be. It was quite nice actually. You had a chance to revel in the way the water felt as it splashed onto your bare legs, the way the wind felt in your hair.

But mostly you were wrapped up in the way it felt to be this close to Spencer.

You pressed your chest into your back, making sure he could feel your breasts on him. You started by gently moving your fingers over the fabric of his t-shirt, round in little circles on his stomach.

As he picked up the speed a little you dared to let your fingers drop a little lower, over his hip bones. You felt him tense a little but due to the sound of the jet ski you didn’t hear the way his breath hitched at your touch.

You moved your hands again, your fingers gently grazing the waistband of his swim shorts.

Spencer practically jumped at your touch so near his crotch and he inadvertently swerved sharply, so sharply that it sent the two of you flying off the seat and crashing into the water.

The engine cut off when the key attached around Spencer’s wrist was yanked out with him.

You both broke the surface, spluttering a little.

“What the hell Spencer?” you pushed your hair back off your face. “Why did you do that?”

Because you have no idea how long I have wanted you to touch me like that.

“You uh...your...I don’t know. I just lost control I guess.” he didn’t want to tell you that your touch had sent him into a tailspin and he had completely lost his focus.

But you had a pretty good idea that was what had happened. And if that was the case, why? Why had your touch affected him in that way? Surely he did not feel for you the way you felt about him?

It couldn’t be possible. But it surely did seem that way.

“I’ll drive the rest of the way.” you told him, rather than pushing him. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

But you might have to test this more, maybe on stable ground.

You both climbed back up onto the jet ski, Spencer slightly less gracefully than you, and he handed you over the key.

You made it back to the jet ski hire with no further incident and Spencer was happy to be back on dry land. Although he did miss the closeness the jet ski brought.

“I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back ok?” Spencer told you while you returned your life vests.

“Sure, I’ll be here.” you gave him a soft smile.

He couldn’t help but give your body a once over again, it was accidental, he couldn’t stop himself. The feeling of your fingers on his waistband and your chest pressed up against his back were imprinted in his mind and by the time he reached the bathroom he was hard again.

Making sure there was no one else in the bathroom he shut himself in one of the cubicles. He leant against the closed door and exhaled a shaky breath.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had touched himself while thinking of you but this seemed dirty. This wasn’t the comfort of his own bedroom where no one would catch him.

But he knew he needed to take care of this otherwise it would plague him all day.

With another shaky breath he relieved himself from his swim shorts. He closed his eyes, taking his length in his hand and started stroking himself. He bit his lip hard to stem his moans as he pictured you in that sinful bathing suit.

He imagined your fingers moving from his waistband inside his pants and tried to imagine it was your fingers wrapped around him.

He was panting and mumbling your name in no time and it didn’t take long at all for him to come.

He cleaned himself up as well as the tiled floor he had dirtied before using the facilities and heading back outside.

God he hoped you wouldn’t see his deed written all over his face, he would be mortified.

But by the looks of it, you were too busy to notice anything.

The guy putting the moves on you was shorter than Spencer but much more broad and muscular. He had sun kissed skin and beach blonde hair. He had a charming smile and it was clearly working its magic on you.

Spencer approached slowly, you didn’t seem to notice. As he reached your side the man looked over at him with a frown.

“Can we help you?” he asked Spencer.

“Spence, hi.” you smiled at him before turning all your attention back on the other man. “Greg, this is my best friend Spencer. Spencer, this is Greg.”

Best friend, of course, because that’s how you saw him. Friends. Only ever friends.

You hadn’t had any intention of talking to someone while Spencer was gone but when Greg had approached you, you engaged in friendly conversation.

He was attractive, sure, but in your eyes he had nothing on Spencer.

But there was something in Spencer’s eyes that looked a lot like jealousy. Maybe you could use Greg to your advantage?

“Greg invited us to a party at the lake tonight.” you spoke when neither man said anything.

“I actually invited you to a party.” Greg corrected you.

“Oh.” Spencer squeaked a little.

“I’m only coming if Spencer does.” You told Greg with a seductive smile.

Greg smiled at you and stepped a little closer.

“How can I say no to a face like yours.” He ran his finger over your cheek and Spencer wanted to smack him. “I’ll see you tonight babe.” He winked at you before sauntering away.

“He seems like a complete jackass.” Spencer grumbled once Greg was out of ear shot.

“You didn’t even speak to him.” You frowned at your friend.

“Neither did you, not really. I was only gone five minutes. I don’t think we should go to that party.”

“And why not?” You folded your arms over your chest.

“Because we don’t know him. He could be some creep for all we know.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.” You stepped closer to Spencer making him swallow. “Are you jealous Spencer?”

“W-what?” He croaked. “Jealous? W-why would I be j-jealous?”

It was written all over his face. He was jealous.

“I don’t know Spence, you tell me.” You stepped even closer to him now, so close he could feel your breath on his face.

You let your hands drop to your side.

“Do you want me for yourself Spencer? Because you know all you’d have to do is ask.”

Good god, what are you doing to me?

Of course he wanted you all to himself, it’s all he’d ever wanted. But that didn’t change the fact you were his best friend and you were moving to different states.

Telling you he wanted you was completely pointless.

“Of course not.” He tried to scoff, forcing himself to step back away from you. “If you want Greg that’s fine by me.”

“Fine.” You spat.

“Fine.” Spencer mirrored.

And with that you turned on your heels and stormed away.

Maybe you’d been wrong after all. Of course Spencer didn’t like you. What a stupid thought that had been.

***

That night your dad allowed you and a very reluctant Spencer to use his car to head back to the lake and meet Greg and his friends.

You and Spencer hadn’t said much of anything to each other since that afternoon but if your parents had noticed they didn’t say anything.

You felt foolish for thinking he could have possibly been jealous. Of course there was no way the brilliant Spencer Reid looked at you that way. There was no way he would deem you smart enough or interesting enough.

It had clearly all been in your head. Or so you thought.

But of course it hadn’t.

Spencer had wanted to scream at you that of course he was jealous and of course he wanted you all to himself, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. There was no way he was confessing his feelings for you. He’d done a good job of keeping them hidden up until now and he certainly wasn’t going to let Greg be the reason he told you.

He would take his feelings for you to the grave. It was easier that way. It was easier than ruining your friendship.

You drove to the lake in stifled silence. Normally small talk wasn’t an issue for the two of you, you could talk about anything and everything for hours on end. But for the first time, neither of you had anything to say to one another.

Thankfully it wasn’t a long drive to the lake and you pulled up soon enough and exited the car as soon as you shut off the engine.

Spencer sighed loudly once alone in the car. This was the last time the two of you would be together in god knows how long and you were in a fight already on the first day of the trip.

He didn’t think the two of you had ever fought, not properly anyway. Was this a fight? Spencer wasn’t even sure. He hoped not. He spent a few minutes alone in the car just collecting himself.

He got out of the car and followed in your footsteps. You were already down by a bonfire near the lake edge with none other than Greg. Greg had his arm around your shoulders as he handed you a bottle of beer which you took with a smile.

Spencer took a deep breath before heading towards you. He really didn’t want to be a third wheel with the two of you but he also didn’t have the kind of confidence it took to go and talk to new people.

Third wheel it is.

“Hi,” you barely acknowledged him as he joined you and Greg and if Spencer wasn’t mistaken you moved your body closer to Greg.

He gave you a half-smile and nodded in Greg’s direction.

“Can I get you a beer?” Greg asked him.

“No thanks. One of us is going to have to drive back and looks like that’s going to be me.” Spencer shrugged, trying not to sound annoyed but he clearly did because he saw you roll your eyes.

“Want to take a walk Greg?” you smiled at the other man who gave your shoulders a squeeze as he eyed you up and down.

“I would love that.” he chuckled and before Spencer knew it he was leading you away from him.

It had been all of two minutes and you had already abandoned him. Great.

He turned away from the lake and started back up towards the car assuming he would just wait for you there while you were off doing god knows what with Greg.

He made his way towards the car but didn’t get very far before someone ran into him, knocking him to the floor.

“Ow.” he groaned as he hit the ground, someone landing roughly on top of him.

“Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry!” she pushed herself off of him, standing up before holding out a hand to help him.

Spencer took it and allowed the stranger to pull him to his feet.

“I was chasing after a frisbee and I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you ok?” she was smiling sweetly at him and Spencer couldn’t help but think it was a very pretty smile.

Maybe not as pretty as yours but pretty in its own right.

“It’s ok.” he told her, shaking it off. “These things happen. I’m uh...I’m Spencer.”

She smiled again and nodded.

“Rose.” she replied. “Would you care to join me for a drink Spencer?”

“You know what?” Spencer smiled. “I don’t mind if I do.”

***

You and Greg had walked further up the lake and found a spot near the water's edge to sit. It didn’t take long before his lips were on yours and his fingers were in your hair.

It was...nice. It was nothing special but it was ok. And you couldn’t help but wish it was Spencer’s lips pressed against your own.

When Greg’s hands moved from your hair down to your breasts, palming them through your top a little roughly, you pushed him back.

“Nuh uh.” you shook your head frowning at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh come on babe, we’re just having a little fun.”

“We can have fun without you groping me.” you picked up your beer bottle and swigged from it.

“I didn’t peg you as a prude Y/N.” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Because I’m not. I prefer the term selective.” you scoffed.

He didn’t take your reluctance as a no however and he moved in again, his lips latching on to your neck and his hand finding your thigh.

He moved his hand higher up your bare leg, over your denim shorts and soon his fingers were toying with the button.

Once again you pushed him, harder than before.

“Hey asshole.” you spat. “I said no.”

He rolled his eyes, picking up his own beer, downing the contents and then tossing it away.

“You’re a drag.” he groaned. “Is this because of that pipe cleaner friend of yours?”

“No.” you pushed yourself up from the ground, grabbing your beer. “This has nothing to do with Spencer. I just don’t like pushy men who think they’re god's gift to women.”

You turned away from him and started back towards the bonfire you could see burning brightly in the distance.

“Girls like you are a dime a dozen.” he called after you.

You flipped him the bird over your shoulder but you didn’t turn back to look at him.

“Asshole.” you muttered to yourself.

You should have listened to Spencer, he’d always been a good judge of character. Maybe you’d have to apologise to him.

You made your way back to the bonfire to find him and make up but you didn’t have to look far.

He was sitting on one of the logs next to the fire but he wasn’t alone.

He had a petite redhead sitting in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. And her lips were hungrily exploring his.

“Oh god.” you felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest, like all the air had been forced from your lungs.

You lost your grip on the beer bottle and it fell to the ground.

His hands were gently on her hips, holding her place while he explored her mouth.

Your tears came out of nowhere, alarming you as they started heavily cascading down your cheeks.

Just as a sob wracked your body, you took off running up the bank and towards the car.

You couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing Spencer kiss that girl made your heart feel like it was shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

You got back in the car and sobbed. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer and that girl, locking lips.

And all you could think was, it should be me.

***

“Sorry if that was really forward of me.” Rose blushed a little when the kiss ended.

Spencer was blushing too, but he had been since their lips first touched.

“I-it’s o-ok.” he stuttered, completely baffled by what had just happened. “I-it was n-nice.”

“I hope it was a little more than nice.” Rose giggled.

But it wasn’t. It was simply nice. It was a nice kiss but it wasn’t with you. He’d kissed girls before but it never felt quite right. And he knew it was because he wasn’t kissing you.

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t find the right words to say.

Rose’s face fell a little and she slid off Spencer’s lap onto the log next to him.

“I know that look.” she chewed her lip. “That’s the look of a guy who is thinking about someone else.”

He wanted to argue with her but it seemed pointless.

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged pathetically. “You’re beautiful and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t thinking about someone else. But I am. I always am.”

“It’s ok.” She placed her hand gently on his knee. “It was nice to meet you Spencer.” She pushed herself up from the log.

“You too Rose.” He stood too, needing to find you before you did anything stupid with Greg.

Just as he had this thought, Greg came wandering towards the bonfire alone.

“Where’s Y/N?” Spencer rushed over to him.

“How should I know?” Greg scoffed. “That girl is a cock tease. Not worth my time.”

“Don’t say that.” Spencer practically whined, making Greg chuckle.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Greg snarled at him.

“I uh...I need to find Y/N.” He changed the subject. He did not want to get into a fight because he would most certainly lose.

“Whatever.” Greg scoffed, turning away from Spencer.

Spencer scanned the crowds but couldn’t see you, he knew he’d be able to pick you out of any crowd.

He practically sprinted back to the car, hoping to find you there and as luck would have it, there you were in the driver's seat.

But even in the dark he could see that you were crying.

He ran to the passenger door and flung it open.

“Oh my god Y/N, what’s wrong?” He threw his arms around you, pulling you closer over the console.

“Get off me.” You pushed him away, sniffing back your tears.

“What’s wrong? What did Greg do?” He asked clearly not noticing your hostility towards him.

You sighed, not wanting to tell your best friend you were crying over seeing him kiss another girl, you shook your head, fixing your seatbelt in place.

“Nothing. I just want to forget all about tonight.” You started the engine.

“O-ok.” Spencer chewed his lip.

Neither of you spoke again on the drive back to the campsite or once you were back in your pod.

You slipped into the bed and Spencer in his sleeping bag on the floor.

Neither of you got much sleep that night, you both had too much on your mind. Namely, being in love with your best friends who were seemingly oblivious.

***

The next morning when you awoke you decided today was a new day. You weren’t going to allow yourself to spend the whole trip being mad at Spencer.

You’d never seen him with a girl before, it had been a shock. But he was twenty two, he must have had girlfriends before you guess he’d just chosen not to tell you. And it wasn’t as though you’d never been with a man.

You resided yourself to the fact that you and Spencer were destined to be friends and that was ok. At least it would be ok. It had to be.

You knelt down on the floor next to his sleeping bag and watched him for a second. He was sound asleep, his breathing soft and even. His plump lips were parted ever so slightly and his hair was draped over the pillow. His eyelashes grazed the skins under his eyes.

Maybe it would be a little harder than you thought to just see him as a friend.

Suddenly his eyes fluttered open and landed on you.

He frowned a little, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Uh...good morning.” He croaked, voice riddled with sleep. “Were you staring at me while I slept?”

“No.” You scoffed, standing back up. “I was just wondering if I could free your hand and put it in a glass of water, see if that peeing thing really works.” You started rummaging through one of your bags to hide your blush from Spencer.

“Mature.” He laughed a little as he sat up. “Hey Y/N, are you ok?”

You took a few deep breaths and turned back to him with a large, fake smile on your lips.

“I’m great.” You beamed. “Now get up sleepy head, we’re going for a hike!”

And with that you took your clothes and stepped over him, undoing the front of the tent pod and disappearing.

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

He wished falling out of love with you was as easy as it had been falling in love with you.

Not being in love with his best friend would make his life so much easier. But life never was good to Spencer.

***

Spencer loved your family but you were all much more athletic than he could ever hope to be. After a five mile hike, Spencer was exhausted. Sweat made his shirt cling to his body and his hair stick to his forehead.

When your mom had suggested stopping for the picnic she had packed, he was more than happy to oblige.

He practically fell to the grass on his back, panting and sweating.

“If it wasn’t for that huge brain of yours there is no way you would have gotten into the FBI.” you laughed as you flopped down next to him.

“Be nice Y/N.” your mom scalded you to which you rolled your eyes.

Your mom set some food while your dad poured glasses of soda for you all. You spent an hour sitting in the sunshine eating while Spencer worked on getting his breath back.

They still had a five mile walk back.

Spencer found himself stealing glances at you as you ate, like he usually did. He never grew tired of watching you.

You were wearing cargo pants and a vest top. His eyes caressed the side of your neck and the curve of your shoulder and your collarbone. Your skin glistened a little from the heat.

His eyes grazed up to the side of your face and the stray strand of hair that fell onto your face. He wanted to lean in and tuck behind your ear but that seemed too intimate.

He must have been watching you for a long time because when he resurfaced from his thoughts your mom was packing up what was left of the picnic.

“Spence and I will make our way back.” You stood up and brushed down the back of your cargo pants.

“Don’t get lost.” You dad shot you a sarcastic look.

“We’ll be fine. Come on Spence.” You encouraged to which he stood too.

“See you later.” He waved at your parents before following where you had already started walking.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” He asked once he caught up with you.

“No idea.” You shrugged.

“Oh good, just what I want. To get lost in the woods with you.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah I’m sure you’d much rather get lost in the woods with that redhead from last night, right?” The bitterness was seeping from your words.

Spencer stopped in his tracks.

“Uh...what redhead?” He tried to lie, he didn’t know what you’d seen so he didn’t want to give away too much.

“Don’t play dumb Spencer.” You stopped too so you could look at him. “The one who was cosied up on your lap, eating your face.”

“Oh. That redhead.” He chewed his lip. “I uh...didn’t realise you saw that.”

“Well I did.” You shrugged. “Looked like you were having fun.”

“It w-was...she was nice I guess.”

“Good.” You spat a little more harshly than you’d meant to.

Spencer frowned, stepping closer to you, leaves crunching under foot.

“Are you annoyed?”

“What? No. Why would I be annoyed?” You scoffed, giving him your best eye roll.

“You seem annoyed.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Good. Because you wouldn’t have any right to be.” It was like he was poking a bear with a stick. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

“And why wouldn’t I?” It was working, you were rising to it.

“Because you left me alone while you went off to do god knows what with Greg. I had to pass the time somehow.”

“By sticking your tongue down some random girl's throat?”

“I’m sure you were doing much more with him.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You growled, stepping closer to him now.

“You know exactly what that means.” He stepped closer to you too, as though you were challenging each other.

“You really think I was off fucking him?” You raised your voice. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Weren’t you?” He shrugged.

“I most certainly was not! He tried to get fresh with me and I pushed him away. He was a jackass! And then I come back to find you making out with that girl!”

“So you are annoyed about that?”

“Yes, happy? Yes I am annoyed about that.” You yelled.

Spencer closed the space between you but you stepped backwards away from him. He backed you into a tree where you collided with the bark.

He put his hands either side of your head pinning you in place.

Where had this side of him come from?

“Why are you annoyed Y/N?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.” You tried to insist but you knew he could see right through you.

“Tell me. Tell me why you’re annoyed with me for Christ sakes Y/N! What did I do that was so wrong? I was just having some fun.”

“Without me.” You pouted.

“I can’t have fun without you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head, very conscious of how close Spencer was to you.

“So what is it then? Tell me.”

“I don’t like seeing you with another girl ok?” You raised your voice again.

“But I have to see you with another man?”

“I offered myself to you Spencer. I said all you had to do was ask. You said no. What was I supposed to think?”

“Y-you…you meant that?” His facade faltered and his hands fell to his sides.

“Of course I did.” You spat.

“You...you…” he swallowed.

“It should have been me you were kissing. Asshole.” You mumbled pathetically.

Spencer didn’t know what came over him at that moment but he couldn’t hold back.

He took your face in his hands and pushed you back against the tree trunk before pressing his lips to yours.

For a moment you kissed him back but then your anger returned and suddenly you were pushing him away.

“Stop it!” You yelled. “It’s too little too late Spencer. I don’t want to be your second choice. I don’t want you after she’s had you.”

“S-second choice? Y/N you could never be my-“

“Save it.” You pushed passed him and started walking again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We need to get back before it starts getting dark.”

You didn’t know what had come over you. All you’d ever wanted was to feel Spencer’s lips on yours. But when he kissed you, all you could think of was that redhead from last night.

And it broke your heart all over again.

***

“Spence?” You whispered into the dark. “Spence are you awake?”

It had been a long, awkward walk back followed by a long, awkward evening back at the campsite with your parents.

You and Spencer had said barely two words to each other before you called for an early night and crawled into your bed.

“Yeah I’m awake.” He whispered in reply from the floor.

“I’m...I’m really cold.” You felt foolish but you were freezing, you couldn’t seem to warm up.

And the only thing you could think that would help would be Spencer’s warm body next to you.

You heard him sigh followed by some rustling. Then you saw his silhouette beside the bed.

“You want me to warm you up?” He asked softly.

“If it’s not...too much to ask.” You didn’t deserve him being kind to you but that was the thing about Spencer, he was always there when you needed him. No matter what.

He sighed again before lifting the covers and sliding into the bed.

“Come here.” He held his arm open for you and you slid closer to him, his arm wrapping around your waist and you rested your head on his chest.

As suspected, he was radiating warmth. You snuggled into him sighing in content. He ran his fingers up and down your side.

“I’m sorry about earlier Y/N.” he spoke into your hair.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, not like that. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”

You shifted a little so you could look up at him.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Spence. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I just...I don’t like the way I felt seeing you with that girl.”

“It didn’t feel great for me seeing you with Greg either.” he cupped your face with his free hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Spence.” a tear escaped your eye. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want to do anything to change that. But I can’t pretend that it didn’t hurt to see you with another girl. And I suppose that means I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship. But I can’t lose my best friend Spence.” a few more tears fell and Spencer tried to wipe them away with his thumb.

“I know Y/N, me too.” He agreed, chewing his lip.

You settled back into his chest and he tightened his hold on you. If this was as close as he could have you then he was going to soak in every moment.

Eventually you both fell asleep, into peaceful slumbers brought on by being wrapped in each other’s embraces.

***

For the rest of the week you and Spencer avoided unnecessary touches and glances each other’s way.

You tried to act normal. You tried to act like you hadn’t kissed and spent the night in each other’s arms.

You knew your parents suspected something was amiss with the two of you, you weren’t quite as pally as you usually were but neither of them said anything.

You spent days at the lake, you went for hikes and sat around the campfire in the evenings as the sunset around you.

On your final night your parents retired to their pod but you remained sitting on one of the logs, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“Are you coming to bed?” Spencer asked you softly.

“Not yet, I might watch the stars for a while.”

“Want company?” He smiled at you and you nodded.

He laid his own blanket out of the ground and motioned for you to come over.

You laid side by side on your backs and you draped your blanket over the top of you both as you stared up at the sky.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving for DC when we get back.” You sniffed back any tears that might fall. “I have to spend the rest of the summer at home without you.”

“You’ll be off to college in a few weeks. You’ll forget all about me.”

You rolled your head to the side and he did the same so you were looking at each other.

“Spence, I could never forget you.” You reached for his hand and entwined your fingers.

He sighed in content at your touch. It was the most physical contact you’d had in almost a week.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m going to miss you too Spence.”

You laid like that under the stars, just staring into each other’s eyes for some time. There were so many things you both wanted to say but nothing seemed good enough.

Somehow you ended up closer together on the blanket, you’re not sure how it happened. You weren’t sure if you’d moved closer or if Spencer had or maybe you both had, but somehow you ended up with barely a few inches between your faces.

You could feel his soft breath on your face and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his lips. That kiss had burned itself into your brain and you couldn’t believe you’d pushed him away before you got to really enjoy it.

“Spence,” you whispered after a long stretch of silence.

“Yes Y/N?”

“All you have to do is ask.” You repeated what you’d said to him at the lake your first day.

He knew exactly what you meant and it made his chest tighten at the mere thought.

“Y/N?” He whispered, edging even closer to you.

“Yes?”

“Can I...c-can I kiss you?” He stuttered.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t Spence.”

He let go of your hand so he could cup your cheek and slowly closed the small space between you.

This time when your lips met it was slow and soft. You revelled in the feeling of his plump, pillowy lips pressed against yours for a moment before you cautiously parted your lips.

Spencer was tentative in his movements as though you may push him away again at any moment.

But of course you didn’t. He slid his tongue in your mouth and started exploring you, slowly at first but soon an animal instinct took over.

He explored your mouth hungrily, holding your face delicately in his large hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and helped him roll on top of you.

He was hard already, you could feel it pressing against you and you knew a kiss wasn’t going to be enough.

You played with his hair, tugging it a little and he moaned into your mouth, subconsciously grinding his hips into yours.

You dared to let your hands roam his back until you reached the hem of his hoodie and slipped your hands under the fabric.

He moaned again at the feeling of your hands on the skin of his back. It spurred you on to rake your nails lightly over his flesh. You were met with another hard roll of his hips.

The kiss ended so you could both gasp for the air that had left your lungs. Spencer chewed his lip nervously, scared of what might happen next.

“Should w-we uh...do you want to go into t-the tent?” he was so unsure of himself. He didn’t want to sound as though he was being presumptive.

“No,” you whispered, but you were smiling. “I want to stay out here.”

“B-but your parents…”

“Sleep like logs.” you laughed, stroking back his hair. “Spencer, I want you to make love to me under the stars. Do you think that’s something...something you can d-do?” you suddenly felt nervous telling him what you wanted. Maybe that’s not what he wanted? Maybe it was just a kiss?

But the hiss that slipped from his lips told you it was exactly what he wanted.

“I-I...there is n-nothing in the world I want m-more.” he swallowed. “B-but I...I’ve never...done this before.” his cheeks turned crimson in an instant.

Your heart swelled. You had no idea. You assumed Spencer was just quiet about his exploits. You had no idea he’d never been with a woman before.

“Oh,” you didn’t really know what to say. “Is this...have you ever pictured, you know, what your uh...first time would be like?”

His blush deepened and he gnawed heavily on his lip.

“All the time.” he confessed. “And it’s always with you.”

“Kiss me Spence.” you smiled at him, pulling him closer again by his neck.

Your lips met again but this time it was much more frantic and desperate, now you both knew exactly where this was going.

You hooked your fingers under the hem of his hoodie and pulled it up his body. He sat back so he could pull it over his head.

“T-shirt too.” you told him with a smirk while he was sat up.

He looked a little nervous but he complied. In all the years you’d known Spencer you didn’t think you’d ever seen him shirtless before. He was always conservative, insecure about how skinny he was. But in that moment he didn’t have time to worry about his insecurities, all he wanted was you and that was all that mattered.

He discarded the items of clothing, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Your eyes raked up and down his torso and soon your fingers followed suit, running over his flesh. He hissed again, telling you he liked it.

“W-what about you?” you swallowed nervously.

“What about me?” you smirked. You knew what he meant but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Y-you uh...can I...your dress?” he was blushing again and it was so adorable.

“Spencer, you can do whatever you like to me.” your voice was dripping with seduction and it made his cock twitch achingly. Oh how he’d dreamed of this moment.

His hands were shaking as he reached for the bottom of your dress. He was slow to raise the fabric, making sure you weren’t going to change your mind.

He inched it up your thighs and paused when he got it to your hips. The black pair of lace panties you wore underneath made his head spin.

“Oh gosh.” he panted a little as he spoke.

You smiled, arching your back so he could continue undressing you. Inch by inch the fabric got higher and higher, revealing more of your body.

Once you had discarded the dress, Spencer sat back again to take you all in. Your panties had a matching bra, cupping your breasts magnificently.

“Do you like what you see, Spence?”

“Are you kidding?” He smiled. “You are perfection Y/N.”

You raked your nails down his chest once more and came to a stop at the waistband of his trousers. You toyed with the button a little.

“Can I?” You whispered.

He chewed his lip and nodded.

You unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them over his hips. He wriggled out of them and tossed them in a pile with the rest of the clothes.

His cock was straining at the front of his boxers, begging to be freed.

You allowed yourself to palm him through his underwear. His head fell back and he moaned deeply.

“Oh gosh.” He panted. “I’m sorry, no ones ever touched me like this before.”

You smiled to yourself, loving that no other woman had been here before. But you could also tell if you were to touch him properly, he wouldn’t last to the main event.

You moved your hand to his wrist and guided his hand between your legs instead.

You panties were soaked already.

He looked at you with large, uncertain eyes, but you nodded in encouragement.

“Please Spencer?”

He swallowed.

“What if I’m no good.” He whined a little.

“It’s ok baby,” you cooed. “You could never make me feel anything other than amazing.”

You let go of his wrist and his fingers shakily played with the lace fabric.

He took a few deep breaths before he moved the fabric aside enough so he could get to your heat.

He was so cautious with his movements, trying to ensure he was doing everything right.

He’d read books. He’d watched porn. But he’d never had the real thing.

He started slow, circling your clit with his fingertip in gentle movements. It was enough to make several moans leave your parted lips and he took that as a good sign.

You pulled him down by his neck so you could kiss him again and his confidence built a little, moving his fingers faster between your legs.

“Oh god Spence,” you mumbled into his lips. “That feels so good baby.”

Spencer felt a swell of pride that he was able to make you feel good, but he wanted more, needed more.

“Y/N,” he panted. “C-can I...can we…”

“Yes Spence. God yes.” You kissed him again and he reluctantly removed his hand from between your legs.

You arched your back and unhooked your bra.

His mouth fell open at the sight of your breasts and he moaned viscerally.

You smiled, taking hold of both of his wrists now and placing his large hands on your breasts.

“F-fuck.” He moaned feeling you beneath his hands. “Jeez Y/N.”

You laughed, now working on sliding your panties down your legs.

Spencer gave your breasts a small squeeze, tweaking your nipples a little between his fingers.

You moved your hands to his hips and cautiously slid his boxers down his hips. You couldn’t stop the small moan that left your lips as you freed his erect member.

“Fuck Spence,” you groaned eyeing him up.

He removed his hands from your breasts so he could shimmy his boxers off.

He laid back down on top of you, his cock nestling between your legs. He kissed you softly, stroking back your hair.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something before w-we...you know…”

“You can tell me anything.” you encouraged him.

“Y/N, I have been in l-love with you for as long as I can remember. I need you t-to know that. I need you to know h-how inconceivably in love with you I am.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes at his words. You pulled him close for another kiss.

“Spencer, I love you too baby.” you whispered, making him sigh in relief.

“I have waited so long to hear you say that.”

“You should have asked.” You smirked, kissing him again. “Are you ready baby?”

He nodded with a deep breath. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he kept his eyes firmly on yours he slowly pushed his way inside of you.

His eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the way you felt. Honestly, he almost came as soon as your tight heat was sheathed around him.

He pushed all the way inside you, filling you up beautifully. He paused to take a few steadying breaths.

“Are you ok?” You traced your finger along his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he panted. “I just need a minute. I don’t want to uh…f-finish too soon.” He blushed.

“Take your time Spence.” You smiled lovingly at him.

He took a few more breaths and captured your lips in a kiss before he started moving slowly.

He was careful in his movements, slow and gentle as though you were made of glass.

He withdrew almost all the way, before slowly plunging back inside you.

His eyes rolled back in his head and the two of you moaned together under the starry sky.

“Jesus Y/N.” He gasped. “This f-feels so...so…”

“I know Spence,” you kissed him harder, messily exploring his mouth, your hands roaming his body and he moved in and out of you.

“I’m r-really not g-gonna…l-last long.” He spoke into your lips.

“Touch me again Spence. I want to come with you.”

He exhaled, moving his hand between your bodies and his fingers started circling your clit once more as he continued his slow thrusts.

The feeling of being inside you was otherworldly. Spencer had never dreamed in a million years it would feel this magical.

He wanted it to last forever. He never wanted this end. If he could feel one thing for the rest of his life he wanted it to be you wrapped around his dick.

He was getting closer and closer to the edge but now his fingers were working deftly on you, so you were you.

You found it hard to believe he’d never done this before because he was amazing at it. He seemed to know just what to do to bring you to your orgasm.

“I’m s-sorry Y/N…I can’t...I’m g-gonna…”

“Me too Spence.”

Hearing you moan his name was all he could take and with one last thrust, Spencer came, filling you with his load.

You came too, clenching around his spasming cock.

He fell on top of you, panting and moaning into your neck.

You wrapped him in your arms and kissed his messy hair.

“God damn Spencer,” you panted. “That was incredible.”

“R-really?” He lifted his head so he could look at you.

“Absolutely.” You held his face and kissed him gently. “I love you Spencer.”

“I love you too Y/N. So much.”

“Shall we go to bed?”

“Five more minutes under the stars?” He asked to which you nodded.

He gently pulled out of you and rolled onto his back on the blanket. You curled into him, resting your head on his chest.

He wrapped one arm around you and held your hand tightly.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You sighed sleepily, looking up at the night sky.

“Not half as beautiful as you Y/N.”

***

It didn’t take long at all for you both to fall asleep like that. Thankfully you woke up before your parents and managed to sneak back into your tent before they found you.

Your dad would have a coronary if he found the two of you like that.

The drive back was long, it seemed longer than on the way. Maybe because you knew your time together was coming to an end.

Tomorrow Spencer would be leaving for DC and who knows when you would next see each other again.

At least you had your night together under the stars.

You were both exhausted when you arrived home so retired to your own homes to rest, Spencer promising to come and see you before he left the following morning.

Your night together had been magical, but the air between you was now stifled. It was what Spencer feared most. Giving into his urges had probably ruined your friendship.

And now he was leaving and didn’t have time to make it up to you.

As promised he showed up at your front door the following morning, his car already packed up.

You stepped out onto the porch and closed the front door behind you.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving.” you wrapped your arms around your body as though shielding yourself from the pain that was going to be caused.

“I know, me either. I never imagined leaving Vegas, not permanently anyway.” he shrugged sadly.

“Don’t forget about me when you’re a hot shot in the FBI, Agent Reid.” you gave him a half smile.

“You and I both know it’s Doctor Reid.” he tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sigh. “Look Y/N, I need to know. After what happened the other night…”

“Spence-”

“Where do we stand Y/N?” he cut you off. “What...what are we?”

You sighed heavily and tried to smile even though your heart was breaking.

“We’re best friends, Spence.” you shrugged. “Always.”

“Best friends.” he muttered sadly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Spencer, we’re moving to different parts of the country, I’m not sure exactly what you thought that night was.”

No, neither am I.

“What was it to you?” he said instead.

“I guess...it was a perfect way to say goodbye.”

Spencer couldn’t keep his resolve any longer and his tears broke free, falling down his cheeks.

“Of course. Goodbye.” he whispered.

“Spence, please don’t cry.” you reached for him but he stepped out of your touch.

“I need to uh...g-get going. It’s a long drive to Quantico.” he rubbed the palms of his hands heavily over his eyes.

“Spence,”

“Really, I n-need to go.” he turned away from you and jogged down the front steps of your house and down the path.

“Spencer, please don’t leave like this.” you called after him, dangerously close to tears yourself.

“Goodbye Y/N.” he turned back to you when he reached the front gate. “I’ll always love you.” he sniffed but before you could say anything more, he was gone.

He ran to his car and seconds later he was inside and you were watching him pull away.

You fell to the ground on the porch and you sobbed. What else could you possibly do? You’d lost your best friend and the love of your life in one fell swoop.

All because of one stupid night under the stars.

Ask the stars up in the sky,

Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.

Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,

There’s a little star that’s watching you.

Ask the stars when you’re with me,

Ask the stars then watch and see.

***

Quantico, Virginia - 2020

Seventeen years seem to pass almost in the blink of an eye. One day Spencer was walking into the BAU for the first time and seemingly the next he was almost forty with a lifetime of trauma behind him.

He thought about you every single day for the longest time. He wondered what you were doing with your life. Were you happy? Had you met someone and got married? Had kids?

Honestly he probably still thought about you every day of his life until he met Maeve.

Maeve was a wonderful reprieve from thoughts of you, and for the first time in almost ten years you hadn’t been the first thought on his mind when he woke in the morning.

But he’d never loved her the way he loved you. It was probably for the best that he and Maeve never got to be together properly because it would have inevitably ended when he couldn’t give her his whole heart.

No, he’d left a piece of that in Vegas years ago.

After Maeve he thought about you from time to time but not everyday like he once had. When he was incarcerated he thought about you a lot. He wondered what you think of him if you could see him sitting in that cell, becoming a man he didn’t recognise. Surely you wouldn’t recognise him either.

Then he met Max and once again he thought maybe, just maybe he would finally be able to give his heart to someone else. But his hopes were dashed. They dated for a few months but she always knew there was someone else. Someone else occupied his mind and his heart and it wasn’t fair on Max to stay with her in the hopes that one day he might be able to love her like he loved you.

You hadn’t fared much better in the love department.

You met a man in college and the two of you married at the tender age of twenty one. You knew you were over compensating. You knew this wasn’t the man you were supposed to be with. But he helped take your mind off your lost love and you were sure in time you would stop thinking about Spencer all together.

But of course you didn’t.

The marriage lasted three years and you were divorced soon after your twenty fourth birthday. There had been other men over the years, but none lasted very long.

They scratched an itch. They filled a void in your life that had existed since Spencer walked out. But inevitably you couldn’t commit so each one ended quicker than the last.

You stayed in Vegas all those years, maybe hoping one day Spencer would come back to you, but of course that had been foolish. Spencer was off living his own life, he probably hadn’t given you a second thought in years.

And then, at the age of thirty five, the job offer came that changed everything.

***

“It’s so quiet around here.” Luke mused as he and Spencer walked through the bullpen.

“Yeah I know what you mean. How is Garcia getting on at her new job?”

“She’s enjoying it but she misses the BAU.”

“Tell her we miss her too. Isn’t her replacement meant to be starting today?”

“She is and she’s settling into her new office.” Emily’s voice caught Spencer and Luke’s attention.

“I guess we should go and introduce ourselves.” Luke shrugged.

“Sure,” Spencer shrugged too and the two of them made their way out of the bullpen towards Garcia’s old office.

“I bet it’s going to be so drab.” Luke laughed.

“No more unicorn mugs or fluffy pens.” Spencer agreed.

“Penelope is one of a kind.”

“Undoubtedly.” Spencer swiped his card on the door and pushed the door handle before stepping into the office, Luke just behind him.

“You must be our new technical analyst.” Luke spoke as the door closed behind the two agents.

The woman sat in Garcia’s old chair tapping on the keys turned in the chair to face them.

She seemed to move in slow motion.

“I’m SSA Luke Alvez and this is Doctor-”

“Spencer Reid.” she cut him off, the words falling from her lips.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Spencer croaked, glaring at the woman in front of him as if he’d seen a ghost.

Luke frowned looking between the two of them who seemed to have forgotten his presence.

Spencer and Y/N stared at each other without saying a word. Spencer’s chest tightened, constricting his breathing. Was he having a heart attack? Was this how he was going to die?

“You uh, know each other?” Luke spoke up.

“Uh...did know each other.” you croaked not tearing your eyes away from Spencer.

“A long time ago.” Spencer added, not looking away from you either.

Sensing the tension in the room, Luke backed up towards the door.

“Maybe I should let the two of you get reacquainted.” he said but neither of you acknowledged him.

He pushed his way back into the hall just as JJ was heading his way.

“Hey, I was just coming to meet the new tech analyst.” she smiled at him.

“I would give it a minute.” Luke told her, making her frown.

“Why?”

“There’s a lot of unfinished business in that room, trust me.” he put his arm around her shoulders to lead her away from the door.

“Spencer and the new Garcia?”

“Yeah.” Luke sighed. “If my profiling skills are accurate, I would say they were in love once. Probably still are.”

Back inside Garcia’s old office, you and Spencer were still staring at each other.

“I had no idea you still worked here, I swear. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I’d known.” you chewed your lip awkwardly.

“You look different.” he spoke as though ignoring what you’d said.

“Well yes, it has been a long time Spencer.”

“Seventeen years, three months and fifteen days.”

“Precisely.” you frowned at his recall. “I’m not eighteen anymore.”

“No and I’m not twenty two.” he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

It was longer now, curlier and messier. He sported stubble on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’d gained weight, somehow gotten even taller you were sure.

He was most certainly not the twenty two year old Spencer Reid you had spent a night with under the stars.

“You look different too. Good different.” you told him.

“A lifetime of trauma will probably do that.” he nodded stiffly.

“Spencer? Strange question for you…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you uhm...did you ever tell Penelope about...that night.” you felt yourself blushing.

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh.

He hadn’t been this drunk in a really long time. Maybe ever. Spencer never had been a big drinker. But they’d had a tough case and Garcia had suggested they all spend the evening at her apartment drinking.

Spencer couldn’t recall who exactly had suggested the drinking games, possibly Kate, but they had been Spencer’s downfall.

“You never did answer the question,” Garica helped Spencer into his jacket after everyone else had left.

“What question?” he slurred, narrowing his eyes on her.

“During truth or dare Morgan asked you how you lost your virginity. You didn’t answer.”

He swallowed, stumbling over his feet a little.

“I uh…” he sighed. “It was with my best friend. On a camping trip under the stars.”

“How romantic!” Garcia swooned.

“Hmm not really. It doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“I don’t remember,” he opened his eyes. “Why?”

“I met her a few times before she left, she was training me up while you guys were away on cases. She told me about the team and that’s when I figured out you still worked here, but I’d already accepted the job by then. Anyway I told her I used to know you, that we were best friends. I didn’t really think much of it until I found this today.” you fished in your pocket and pulled out a brightly coloured post it note. “It was slotted between the desks. I recognise her handwriting.”

You handed the small folded up note to Spencer who took it and unfolded it. In Garcia’s signature handwriting, it read, “You’re in love, just ask the stars.”

“Ok so maybe I did tell her about my best friend who I lost my virginity to under the stars.” he confessed.

“Ah then the note makes sense.” you took it back from him and slid it back into your pocket.

“Yeah.”

Silence followed, heavy, palpable silence.

He thought maybe after all this time he didn’t feel as strongly about you as he used to. But looking into your beautiful eyes, all those feelings came flooding back to him. He didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that he was still in love with you.

The question was, did you still feel the same?

As if reading his mind you stepped a little closer to Spencer, cautiously at first but when he didn’t shy away you came even closer.

You took hold of his tie and played with it between your fingers.

“I know what you’re thinking Spence,” you smiled coyly. “I always know what you’re thinking.”

“You should have been a profiler.” He smiled softly, making you laugh.

“I’ve said it once, Spence and I’ll say it again. If you want to know if I’m still in love with you...all you have to do, is ask.”

When they twinkle, twinkle,

Wedding bells will tinkle, tinkle.

You’re in love, just ask the stars.

————————————————————— Taglist (taglist form can be found here)

All ships & genres -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl

@measure-in-pain

@ptrs-prkrs

@sexy-dumpster-fire

SR x reader all genres -

@boxofsparklingmuses

@frickin-bats

@reidandhisgourd

@ukai-hoe

@dreatine

@adoringanakin

@amesandpineapples

@goldeng1rl8

@dr-spencerr-reidd

@90spumkin

@battinsonn

@sleepretreat

@dr-spence-reid

@thetiniestsupersoldier

SR x reader oneshots -

@willowrose99

@multixfandomwriter

@reidsplaytoy

Tags not working -

tv-obsxssed

hsbavery

mggsmismatchedsox

[freddyfreebat]

Jack Dylan Grazer Discovers Who He Is in Luca Guadagnino's “We Are Who We Are”

After supporting roles in the It and Shazam!, the young actor shifts gears with his turn as a capricious army brat in the Call Me By Your Name director's new HBO series.

by Iana Murray / Photography by Nik Antonio  —  September 14, 2020

A few years ago, Jack Dylan Grazer took a trip to the movie theater. He was in Toronto and it was one of his days off from filming Shazam!, the DC comedy in which he plays the shape-shifting hero’s foster brother. He decided to watch Call Me By Your Name, and he immediately fell for it. Grazer took note of the director’s name that appeared in the credits—Luca Guadagnino—and turned to his mother.

“I want to work with him,” he told her. With eerie prescience, she assured him: “You will.”

Whether Grazer, now 17, has a knack for manifestation, or it was all just happenstance, his wish came true in the form of We Are Who We Are, Guadagnino’s coming of age drama which follows a group of army brats living on an American military base in Italy. Thematically, the show is something of a spiritual successor to Call Me By Your Name: Grazer plays Fraser, a tempestuous 14-year-old with a pair of headphones constantly plugged in his ears. He’s the new arrival at the base with his mothers (Chloë Sevigny and Alice Braga), and quickly forms a deep bond with his neighbour, Caitlin (Jordan Kristine Seamon), as they both wrestle with their sexuality and identity in the midst of domestic troubles and teenage debauchery.

“He’s an enigma to himself,” Grazer says of his character. “He doesn’t really understand a lot of the things he does but he’s so forthright so he convinces himself that he knows everything. He feels like other people don’t deserve his intelligence. But he’s also very volatile and aggressive at times, and not because he’s coming from an angry place but because he’s constantly questioning who he is.”

If Fraser is just beginning his coming of age when we first meet him, Grazer is inching closer to the end. Starring in enormous blockbusters including IT, he became the Loser Club’s resident hypochondriac at age 12 and a superhero’s sidekick by 15. His films have grossed a combined total of over $1.5 billion. Suddenly the stakes are multiplied tenfold during what are ostensibly, and horrifyingly, the most awkward years of your life. Every misstep is now being monitored, examined through a microscope of millions. (See: His 3.8 million fans on Instagram, to say nothing of the countless stan accounts.) Child fame is a disarming transaction like that: a stable career and all the other perks of being a celebrity, but at the cost of normalcy. That unalleviating pressure forces a kid to mature fast.

Grazer is acutely aware of this fact, admitting outright that he’s “not a normal person.” But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I became 70 when I was 7!” he laughs. “I don’t know if I really had much of a childhood. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to grow up really fast.”

Nevertheless, he’s still 17. When we meet over Zoom, his shoulder length curls are damp and disheveled (he just got out of the shower), his black painted fingernails contrast with his brightly-lit, white bedroom as he rests his face on his hand. It’s a Saturday morning and he looks tired: It’s his first week back at school, which has traded classrooms for hours of video calls reminiscent of the one we’re currently on. “It feels like the days are shorter because the teachers don’t want to torture their students by keeping them on a computer for six hours a day,” he tells me. “You do miss the social aspect of being at school.”

If you were to judge Grazer by what’s out there on the internet, you’d expect an anarchic and relentless bundle of energy. A quick YouTube search brings up results like “jack dylan grazer being a drama queen” and “jack dylan grazer being chaotic in interviews for 4 and a half minutes straight.” He trolled a YouTube gamer on Instagram Live. His TikToks are inscrutable.

But here, he’s incredibly earnest, as he excitedly talks about his skateboarding hobby (a skill he picked up after auditioning for Mid90s) and his attempts to learn the flute (“I need to learn how to read sheet music, but it’s like reading Hebrew!”). He’s calm and thoughtful, as if this project we’re discussing requires a shift in sensibility.

For Grazer, acting had always simply been fun. While other kids might take up a sport or get hooked on video games, he performed in musical theater with the Adderley School because he “just wanted to play.” His roles so far have been reflective of his carefree approach to the job: Up until now, he’s portrayed best friends with biting one-liners, or the younger version of the protagonist in a flashback. IT is a prime example of both. In the horror franchise, Grazer plays a neurotic germaphobe running from a fear-eating clown, but in reality, the film felt like “summer camp.” Both films never felt like work; he just learned his lines and got to hang out on extravagant sets with his best friends. Likewise, school amounted to being pulled off set by a teacher in between takes to cram in the mandatory hours.

But with We Are Who We Are, he steps into his first leading role, one that required him to convey longing and confusion through Elio-like physicality and subtext. It’s abnormal to talk about the show as a turning point for an actor who isn’t even a legal adult yet, but Grazer explains that the show required him to radically change his approach to acting. He spent six months in Italy (“It felt like I was in Call Me By Your Name.”) and built up the character beyond what was on the page in collaboration with Guadagnino. “His philosophy is that we know our characters better than anyone else—even the writers—because we are the characters essentially,” he explains.

In many ways, Grazer absorbed that philosophy entirely. He describes the experience less as a performance and more like a “rebirth”—perhaps even an attempt at method acting. Over those months in Italy, the distinctions between actor and character gradually became indistinguishable. “I had no other choice but to act and surrender to Fraser entirely and throw Jack Dylan Grazer out the window,” he says. “I would go out and get a coffee as Fraser and walk like Fraser. That was just me trying to get into [character], but then I slipped at some point and just became Fraser.”

One day on set, he looked at himself in the mirror, and the hardened kid standing there with a bleach-blond dye job and oversized shorts was unrecognizable to him. He could only see Fraser. While talking about his character, he seems to unintentionally switch pronouns, from “he” to “I”, as if the two still remain one and the same.

The process was so transformative that it forced him to re-evaluate himself entirely. “I never really struggled with identity before,” Grazer tells me. “But I think the show opened up my eyes to question myself. Being Fraser forced me to question what I wanted and what I stood for and what I believed in. At some points, the show bled into reality.”

When asked how he has changed, he takes a pause and a pensive swivel in his armchair, unsure of how to answer. “I think I was more ignorant before I did the show,” he says, and he leaves it at that.

Coming of agers are a particularly well-trodden genre, but there’s a naturalistic, raw energy to We Are Who We Are that is distinctive from what we’ve seen before. Each character quietly struggles with their own problems and growing pains—for Fraser, it’s his sexuality. Caught in a fraught relationship with his lesbian mother and an infatuation with another man, his story doesn’t tick off the familiar beats. His personal discovery is instead internal and intimate. "I think every single person born as a boy has this guard. It’s this guard that they don’t even realize they have, where they’re initially like, ‘Being gay? I could never.’ But we’re all born as humans who are attracted to whatever we’re attracted to," he says. "I think that’s how Fraser interprets it as well. Yes, he’s reserved and nervous about it in the beginning because he’s unlocking this new idea for himself. He’s figuring it out, and that’s what you see in the show: him coming to terms with this idea."

As our conversation winds to a close, I ask him if Martin Scorsese ever visited the set—his daughter, Francesca, plays the confident cool girl of the show’s teen cohort—and his eyes widen. “That was actually a really stressful day,” he divulges. Still, he revels in the memory, speaking so fast it’s like someone has put him on 2.5x speed as he shows off his impersonation of Guadagnino. The director was so nervous about Scorsese’s presence that production halted that day.

“Luca was like, ‘I cannot do this today because Martin Scorsese is on my set. I don’t know what to do, this is not good for me. I will have a panic attack before the day ends,’” Grazer says in his best Italian accent. “It’s like if you’re a painter and Van Gogh shows up.” 

Admittedly, Grazer is also a self-proclaimed superfan of the Wolf of Wall Street director, and afterwards, he got to spend several days with his idol, as they went on lavish restaurant outings in Italy and talked about anything and everything.

He takes a second to compose himself. A giddy, Cheshire cat smile spreads across his face. The kid in him comes flooding back.

“...Oh my god!” he yells. “I met Martin Scorsese!”

[bentforkent]

CAMP FIREFLY - chapter one

word count: 4,210

content warnings: brief joking mention of child death

read on ao3 / read on wattpad (coming soon too lazy to upload there rn lol) / previous part / next part

Emily wakes up on the first day of camp feeling like someone is sitting on her chest. It’s the same atmosphere as usual; her head rises from the same old flat pillow to the same old bunk above her. It’s the same atmosphere, sure, but today feels fundamentally different, for it’s the first time she’ll be interacting with real campers. Children. A gaggle of young folk coming to her every day for instruction or nurturing or a hand with the hot-glue stick. She’s been trained for this, of course, but what if she messes up a craft? What if she accidentally says “fuck”?

Wide awake, JJ and Penelope are up and bouncing around the cabin cheerily by the time Emily wiggles her toes and comes to from Dreamland. Emily had only awoken in the first place because the early-rising pair tuned the radio to something upbeat and relatively staticless, cranking up the volume. Emily would’ve considered that very rude had she not already slept in for an extra hour, and had she not been greeted with incredible excitement once her eyes popped open.

“She’s awake!” JJ cheered, Penelope replying with a soft good morning!. Emily took her time pulling her body from the mattress, and now sits still-groggy on the floor by her bunk, trying to do her makeup in a tiny, fogged compact mirror. Penelope is standing behind JJ, braiding bright purple ribbons into her hair.

It’s so early it’s still dark outside, so the three of them are illuminated by a sorta-eerie yellow light, an old light bulb wired smack in the center of the cabin. Penelope’s bags are packed by the door, and when Emily notices them, she feels a pang of sadness upon remembering that Penelope will be moving out to her own cabin with her own group of campers today. Emily will get to stay with JJ, which she thinks is quite nice, because the only other option was a single room all the way over by Rossi’s office all by herself. And she’s finding that she quite likes spending time with JJ and Penelope, so newfound solitude would be a drag.

The bunch have spent their past week in training--learning the lay of the land through semi-degraded VHS tapes of Rossi when he was young and sprightly still, walking through the camp and delivering very specific instructions on how to deal with very specific situations. Penelope was in charge of teaching the fun stuff---chants and traditions and how to make friendship bracelets.

On a particularly sweaty, boring training day, Emily pulled Aaron aside--away from the group who was watching an old-Rossi-video about the lake just behind the camp--and asked him if everything was always like this. Emily wasn’t entirely sure what the “this” was, whether she meant peppy or hot or musty or involved, but Aaron had nodded his head sympathetically and walked Emily back to her seat with a whispered, “You’ll get used to it.” Emily was only a tiny bit aware of Penelope’s eyes fixated on her as she slumped back down in the sticky plastic seat and focused back on Rossi-with-hair explaining the stupid history of the stupid lake.

And used to it she got. Spencer, too.

Turns out he shared the same sentiment as Emily--the, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but I don’t hate it,” sentiment, as they’d so concisely dubbed it, when they sat together in the back of the big room training was taking place in, gossiping and giggling as Rossi, real Rossi --- old Rossi --- stood in front of the small group and explained yet another probably-self-explanatory camp rule.

For as much training as it feels like they participate in --- or sit through, rather --- Spencer still wakes up on the first day of Real Camp so stressed out he checks for gray hairs in the mirror.

It turns out that you can sit through a series of convoluted VHS tapes and Penelope-lessons and still not know a thing about what you’re supposed to be doing. It also turns out that while Camp Firefly is clearly very loved, it’s not the most...efficient summer camp of the area. Or the most safe. Or staffed. Or large. In fact, Spencer marvels at the fact people even send their kids here to stay. It’s not that the camp is poorly run or anything (to imply that would be to question the abilities of him and his friends, Spencer acknowledges), but there’s got to be better options, is the point.

Besides the small handful of counselors Spencer had become close with, the staff only consists of a trio of kitchen staff, one (one!) lifeguard, and a male nurse that Spencer had spoken to once and left the conversation supremely uneasy at the poor guy giving any medical advice. Spencer made a mental note to try his hardest to not have any health issues during his time here.

The kitchen staff are older---like, appear-in-the-old-training-videos older, but they entertain the rest of the newer, younger staff with stories of their youth. The nature of Camp Firefly means that they have stories about Spencer’s friends, too, as the majority of them have been going to the camp every summer since they were children, aging up into their jobs as counselors.

Spencer hears about the time an elementary-aged Derek begged to help serve food to the other campers just because, and about the time Penelope and JJ (when the story is told, they call her Jennifer) passed a petition calling for Rossi’s retirement around the whole camp, just because he cancelled the Talent Show. (The petition turned up only 4 signatures, and the Talent Show is no longer a Camp Firefly tradition).

It’s awe-inducing to Spencer that these people around him have lived whole lives in these dingy cabins. They’ve known each other for ages, built relationships and traditions and memories and stories, all because their parents chose the cheapest sleepaway camp option.

Spencer wonders how different his life would have turned out if he’d been indoctrinated into Summer Camp Culture in his youth, whether he’d even be at Camp Firefly now. Probably not. Definitely not.

Everyone is hanging out around Rossi’s office when the first bus arrives, lounging against the walls and picking at their cuticles. The sun is meandering its way over the horizon finally, but it still feels impossibly early. The group wears bright orange Camp Firefly t-shirts that are meant to be matching, but budget things mean that some of the shirts are more worn---Aaron’s has the sleeves cut off, and the logo is largely rubbed off of JJ’s---and some are brand new.

The crackling of the bus’ tires signals it’s presence before the vehicle peeks over the hill, and when it’s finally in everyone’s line of vision, it’s like a switch flips. They’re hooting and hollering, jumping and dancing in the name of welcoming this bus. Spencer has a wild grin on his face, and when he meets Emily’s eyes, they share a look of fondness and excitement.

After the first bus arrives, the day goes by as quickly as a montage--a cluster of quickly moving vignettes.

Spencer watches as a young girl stares up at Derek, eyes wide and full of wonder. He’s lifting her--and three other girls’--duffle bags with ease, muscles flexing and shiny with sweat. Same, Spencer thinks, realizing his expression is most likely the same as the girl’s. Derek flashes him a quick, hot smile, and Spencer grins in return.

Emily executes her first craft--a cluster of glitter and string and construction paper--flawlessly. Each group introduces themselves to her with a chorus of “hi Emily,” and it warms her heart more than she expected. One girl missing her front tooth hangs back as her group is leaving--Penelope’s group is leaving--just to tell Emily that she likes her “funny makeup.” It’s just eyeliner, really, it’s not that funny, but the sentiment makes Emily smile nonetheless.

Aaron has some trouble with children in his group picking beds, a small verbal scuffle breaking out between two campers vying for the last top bunk. Aaron, ever a mediator, solves it with a stern glance at the pair and a reminder that the other option out of the two is a bed near a window, another highly-sought-after spot. They fight for the window bed next, and Aaron feels a gray hair sprout on the spot.

Once all of Penelope’s campers have unpacked, she takes them on a top-secret trip down to the lake. It’s definitely not top-secret, it’s a staple of every group’s first-day tour, but Penelope has a knack for making her campers feel special, so they creep around the sandy shore on their tiptoes, whispering, while Andrea the Lifeguard looks on.

Despite the speed and relative easiness of the day, everyone finds themselves exhausted, greeting each other with pantomimes of falling asleep and loud sighs. It’s not been a bad day at all, but a long one, and in an attempt to remedy the feeling Derek graciously offers to run to the supermarket and pick up some fun snacks---a counselors only affair.

Spencer volunteers to accompany him on account of him wanting to spend obscene amounts of time with Derek, and also on the account of Rossi offering his expensive car for Derek to drive. Oh, to feel buttery leather seats and hear music and smell anything but dry leaves and B.O.

As soon as their campers are pawned off to other people and sufficiently supervised, Rossi tosses his keys to Derek, who catches them with a jingle.

“Be back soon,” Derek promises, and Spencer punctuates with a wave and a smile.

The fluorescent lights buzz in Spencer’s ear, comforting him. Bzz, bzz. Hope you like the air conditioning, they call out to him. He sure does.

Normally the energy of these 24/7 high-budget chain grocery stores freak Spencer out. It’s always too bright, too loud, too full-of-people. But tonight, there’s not a soul around except him and Derek and the high-school-aged cashier, so Spencer’s actually feeling particularly soothed. The sounds of Derek’s feet dragging on the shiny floor and the squeaky wheel are good sounds, he decides. He could still do without the candy-coated pop music wafting through the speakers.

The shopping cart remains empty for about fifteen minutes before either of them address it. Derek and Spencer spend those 15 minutes wandering aisles, relatively silent save for short, casual remarks like, “Oh, maybe we should get barbecue chips,” or, “JJ loves these Fruit by The Foot.”

Derek pauses from where he’s pushing the cart and turns to Spencer. “We should probably start shopping for real now, huh?”

Honestly, half of Spencer thought they had been shopping for real already. But apparently, if you’re not putting things in the cart, it doesn’t count, he learns. (Derek might be a misguided teacher in that lesson, though.)

“I like to take my time here, because it’s about the only time during camp I get to be alone,” Derek explains, tossing a loaf of bread into the cart absentmindedly. Bread is not on the list.

Spencer tugs at his fraying string bracelet. “Oh. Sorry, then,” he says. Three boxes of graham crackers are set delicately next to the bread.

“For what?”

“Well, you’re not really alone right now,” Spencer observes.

Derek shrugs casually. “Sure, I guess. But you don’t really count, Spence,” he says.

He means it kindly, Spencer knows. But it’s an odd thing to hear--what does that mean? Is he implying Spencer is too boring, or too quiet? Before Spencer can spiral too much, Derek notices his uncomfortable silence and continues, “Hey, no, I mean because I like spending time with you. Like, it’s easy. I don’t have to think about it.”

Spencer has a flash of a vision of Derek dipping him right there in aisle 6 and planting a nice firm kiss onto his lips. In that vision, there’s a fog machine whirring and some Chopin playing. Vision-Spencer nips at vision-Derek’s lower lip.

Instead of all that, present-moment-Spencer nudges Derek’s shoulder with his own, murmuring a happy little “likewise,” and clinging onto the sound of Derek’s chuckle.

Derek kept his hand on the center console the whole drive home, and Spencer desperately wanted to reach out and grab it, to open his palm and lay in it, letting him be engulfed like a weighted blanket. But he kept his hands to himself, squarely on his thighs.

It’s dark when they return, and the bright LED headlights of Rossi’s fancy car seem out of place when they pull back into the camp. Everything seems out of place. Spencer can’t put his finger on it --- the buildings haven’t shifted, and the camp is exactly the same as it was before he left, and yet he’s got this strange premonition that something is just...off.

Spencer’s shoe is untied, and he can feel the laces whipping his ankle as he and Derek trek to Rossi’s office to return his keys to him. He’d reach down and tie them if not for the plastic bags of groceries in his hand---god forbid he let food sit on the dirty, unpaved path, no matter how many layers of plastic packaging protect it. Besides, the air feels thicker than usual, and each time the knit of his shoelace brushes his skin, Spencer is reminded just how uncomfortable everything feels and how desperate he is to be inside.

Everyone is packed into Rossi’s office when the pair gets there, and Spencer’s stomach sinks the tiniest bit.

Penelope and Emily are lounging in those sticky plastic chairs, showered and smelling like a cocktail of cheap, fruity shampoo. Behind them are Aaron and JJ --- JJ’s standing to braid French braids into Penelope’s wet hair, and Aaron just appears to be shaking out pent-up energy. How he isn’t tired, Spencer doesn’t know. Confused, and with hesitant movements, Derek pushes away a stack of bright-white papers on Rossi’s desk to make space for the grocery bags. “What’s everyone doing in here?” he asks. “I thought we were doing Shifts tonight.”

Now that campers have arrived at the camp, it’s become a little more complicated to hang out as a group in the evenings, as they’ve all got an obligation to be in their cabins just in case. Liabilities, and all that.

The first year Aaron was old enough to become a counselor---he was the first of the bunch to age up into the job---he devised an elaborate, elaborate system that allowed the group to socialize without any sleeping campers being left alone.

It’s complete with maps and rules and a very strict set of time shifts, so in addition to Spencer and Emily’s official training, they’d been trained on the side by a very drill-sergeant-y JJ in what Aaron all those years ago so aptly dubbed “Shifts.”

Neither Spencer nor Emily have got it down yet.

“Rossi has an announcement,” Aaron says, pulling his ankle up behind him into a simple hamstring stretch.

“Yeah, I heard he’s gonna promote you to Head of Grocery Shopping, Der,” Penelope teases, peering jovially at Derek through the corner of her eye.

“Haha,” Derek deadpans, and tosses her a pack of fruit snacks that he’d picked out specifically for her. They're the good brand, the blue bag, and she accepts graciously with a kiss blown in his direction. Derek catches it, and presses it to his cheek.

Emily has noticed that Rossi always slinks into his office after his guests have arrived. He’s never there waiting, never anticipating. She has no clue where he’s coming from, although she assumes it’s from his cabin. He always makes an entrance, always sits with a weird old-guy sigh, and then launches into whatever reason he’d called the meeting in the first place.

On cue, Rossi swings the door open and lowers himself into his chair slowly. Emily anticipates it and then there it is---Rossi sighs that damn sigh, and leans forward onto his desk. Although no one else moves, the air shifts towards him as well, and it feels like the seven of them are all standing nose-to-nose.

Penelope slips Rossi a fruit snack discreetly, sliding it across the table to rest by his elbow.

“You know I love you all very much,” Rossi starts, and Emily feels like she might puke. That’s the thing about her Rossi prediction --- the important part, the part where he speaks, is the part she’ll never be able to guess.

So, she feels like she might puke. Not because she feels ill, of course, but in her experience all of that cheesy, “I love you” bullshit always prefaces the worst news, and she has absolutely no clue what is about to come out of Rossi’s mouth. Her mind leaps to the worst possible conclusion---”You’re firing all of us,” she blurts out, relieving the tension just a tad as JJ bursts into snickers behind her.

Another sigh. “No, I’m not firing you.”

“A kid died?”

“Jesus, Emily, would you let me finish?” Rossi says.

Then, after a deep breath, “Developers are coming tomorrow to look at the land. I’m planning on selling Camp as soon as this summer is finished.”

Oh, Emily thinks.

It hits them like a punch to the gut.

There’s hardly room to breathe in the cabin, let alone fall to the floor, but somehow JJ makes it work. The sound of her knees hitting the wooden floor reverberates and warps through the space.

Emily and Spencer exchange a watery glance and mirror each other, biting the inside of their cheeks at the same time. They share a small, spiritless smile at the misfortune.

Penelope is gasping short and shallow breaths as she staves off cries, reaching down and behind her for JJ, who has tucked her head into her knees, pulling off an emotional Child’s Pose on the filthy floor.

Penelope crying is awkward because Emily is sitting right there, upset as well but characteristically less overt about it. Their knees are touching --- Emily’s right to Penelope’s left --- and yet, there’s no tissue for Emily to give Penelope, no way to console her without feeling irreparably out of place. Emily sinks lower into her seat, wishing she had the confidence to place her hand on Penelope’s leg as a tender signal that she’s there and she understands.

Derek is shoved into Spencer as Aaron pushes past him and out of Rossi’s office. It’s not a malicious push, and the sad look Derek gives Spencer is one of pity both for Aaron and for himself, too. An anguished cry comes from outside, from Aaron, and everyone’s eyes widen a little at the sound.

It’s impressive to Emily just how immediately everyone started crying. Before Rossi had even finished his sentence, there were tears welling up in Penelope’s big hazel eyes. Emily almost feels jealous at the brazen displays of emotion. She wants to love something so hard that she could cry at the drop of a hat over it. Nothing has ever touched her as Camp Firefly has touched Penelope, touched JJ, touched Aaron, touched Derek.

“I feel like my world is crashing around me,” Derek admits shyly. “As stupid as that sounds.”

Spencer nods. He knows the feeling. They sit on the porch of their cabin in creaky rocking chairs, a cloud of bug spray encompassing them.

“It’s like, I grew up at this camp. This camp saved me as a kid.” Derek shakes his head.

This camp is saving me now, Spencer thinks wryly before tucking that thought away in a deep corner of his brain. “I’m really sorry, Derek,” he says sincerely.

The door to the cabin creaks open, and a teary-eyed child steps out onto the porch. His feet are light, and he closes the door behind him slowly, clearly not trying to wake any of his fellow campers. “Derek?” he asks quietly. “I can’t sleep...and I kinda miss my mom.”

“C’mere, then,” Derek says tenderly, and gestures for the boy to sit in one of the unoccupied rocking chairs. “Spencer and I were just talking about how much we miss our moms, right Spence?”

Spencer agrees with a nod and a kind smile directed at the boy, then he takes a backseat to the conversation unfolding in front of him. He watches as Derek effortlessly consoles the weeping child before him by sharing his own stories of similar plights in homesickness and offering jokingly to sing the cabin to sleep next time.

After a few minutes Spencer’s mind starts to wander, curious on how the rest of his friends are sleeping tonight after the news of Camp Firefly’s imminent closure. He hopes Emily is chatting with JJ just as he’s chatting with Derek, comforting her and providing the very few words of solace that would help in this situation. He thinks of Penelope and Aaron, all alone, and he half-considers walking over to each of their cabins just to check on them. He doesn’t, though, because it’s technically against the rules, and because Derek is standing, wrapping up his conversation and holding his hand out to help Spencer up out of his seat. The camper, who Spencer has learned is named Alex, scampers inside, tears dried.

Derek holds intense locked eye-contact with Spencer for a second. His eyes are soul-searching, making it clear that he has something he would like to say to Spencer. Maybe he wants to thank Spencer for listening to him talk, or accompanying him to the grocery store. Spencer quickly flips through a plethora of ideas of what Derek could say next like he’s flipping through a book, but he comes up short.

Derek’s mouth is open slightly, like he’d taken in a breath to speak and then lost his train of thought. The sight of him makes Spencer sweat a little, and just for a moment he feels like maybe he should break the short distance between them and kiss him.

Then Derek is tearing his eyes away, dropping Spencer’s hand, murmuring a gentle, “Sleep well, Spencer,” and retreating inside and to his bunk.

“Goodnight,” Spencer replies, but Derek’s already tucked himself in and turned his back to where Spencer stands by the open door.

Emily is always the last one to fall asleep. She knows this based solely on a feeling, an energy that settles over the camp when everyone else’s eyelashes are finally closed and their breathing patterns slowed. It takes a little longer on this night, considering the 40 new bodies in the vicinity--Welcome, Campers!--and the obviously upsetting news that’d been delivered to her and her friends, but finally Emily feels it. She’s the only one awake.

As much as Emily doesn’t like to spend time to herself, as she often finds herself in rabbit holes of self-loathing thoughts, this nightly hour-or-so of atmospheric solitude is comforting. Usually.

Tonight, she’s reeling with visions of land developers coming to the camp in fancy suits, and clipboards, and leather loafers that are far unsuited to trek through Camp Firefly’s unpaved land. And it sucks to imagine.

Emily has only spent a week or so here at the camp, so she doesn't feel like this loss hits her particularly hard. The only reason she’s even at this tiny camp in the first place is the fact that it’s on the exact opposite end of the country from where she’d spent her spring.

When summer ends, and this camp is gone, all she’ll need to do to heal is move to a new city, and make new friends. Then she’ll repeat the process once she gets hurt or bored. The collection of people who have known and loved Emily Prentiss is so impossibly large, and as a result, large is the collection of people who have lost her and haven’t thought about her since.

With regret, Emily recognizes that the group she’s met and befriended this past week will eventually forget about her, remembering her only as the charismatic figure who took over the Craft Cabin the year the camp closed.

And yet, she feels differently than usual. She thinks of pretty Penelope, who is so sweet and sheepish and shy around her, but blooms into wide smiles and rosy cheeks around others. Of JJ, who eagerly taught her how to braid and make friendship bracelets on only their second day of meeting. Derek and Aaron, the rare macho men who haven’t made her want to gouge her eyes out but instead make her laugh constantly. She thinks of Spencer, the quiet intellectual who she feels such a warmth toward, considering him her baby sibling or her protegé.

She’s not entirely sure of what this emotion is, what it means or what it will mean in the future. What she does know, though, is that she’ll take up as much space as possible until her quiet disband from the mismatched group of friends. It’s how she always goes.

It’s then that she decides fuck the developers and fuck Rossi’s plans. If she’s going down and away with this camp, she might as well make it count. As she closes her eyes, finally ready to sleep, a plan begins to formulate in her mind.

- - - - - - -

next part