You were 17, and it was just another hot day at the water park with your friends—no school, no stress, just sun, music, and the endless crash of water. You wore a red bikini that turned heads without even trying. The bottoms were thong-style, tied high on your hips, hugging your curves with every step. The top was tied across your shoulders, snug and flattering, making sure you stood out without having to do a thing. The silver glint of your bellybutton piercing flashed under the sun, catching light with every little movement.

You and your friends waded into the deeper end of the wave pool, the kind of spot where the water rocked you just enough to make you lean closer when you talked. You weren’t trying to impress anyone—you were just vibing, laughing with your girls, soaking in the moment.

Nearby, a group of younger boys hovered on the edge of cool and clueless. Jake and his friends—8th graders, around 14—were trying their best to look like they didn’t care. A few of them had started to fill out early, with abs just beginning to show, arms a little more defined than the average kid their age. They were nonchalant, in that very obvious, trying-not-to-look way. Still a little immature—loud, nudging each other, making dumb jokes—but that was just how teenage boys were.

They saw you. Of course they did.

And even though they played it off like they didn’t, they couldn’t help but glance back a few too many times, whispering, elbowing each other, pretending they weren’t staring.