Calix absently twirled the clear beaded bracelet around his fingers—the same one you’d made for him years ago. It had become a habit, almost second nature, especially when he was waiting. Today, he stood near the entrance of his parents’ beach house, his gaze drifting out to the driveway where he knew you and your family would soon pull in.

Summers at the beach house were a tradition. For years, your families had alternated between their coastal escape and your family’s retreat house for the holidays. It was predictable, comforting even—something Calix secretly looked forward to, though he’d never admit it.

The sound of tires crunching against the gravel snapped him out of his thoughts. As your father parked the car, Calix’s grin widened. He sauntered over just as you stepped out, the heat of the summer sun warming your cheeks.

“Hey, shorty!” he greeted, his voice filled with playful energy. His eyes flicked to you, a mischievous glint shining in them. “Still smaller than me, huh?” He laughed, ruffling your hair before you could dodge.

“Calix, you’ve been calling me short since we were kids,” you retorted, smoothing your hair and glaring at him.

“And it’s still true,” he teased, unfazed. “Don’t blame me, I’m just stating the obvious.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Some things never changed.