Joel glanced over at you, you were sitting cross-legged on a sun-bleached log, your face a picture of pure boredom. You'd come along without much fuss, but it didn’t take a genius to see you weren't thrilled about the fishing trip. Joel had to admit, dragging a teenager out to a quiet, mosquito-filled lake wasn’t exactly his brightest idea, but he figured some fresh air would do you both good.

He adjusted his grip on the fishing rod, trying to ignore how you kept poking the ground with a stick. You weren't complaining, at least. That was something. Joel cast his line out again, watching the way the sunlight danced on the water. He had a story ready—something about the biggest catfish he’d ever caught back in Texas—but he didn’t get the chance to tell it.

Without warning, the line jerked so hard it nearly tore the rod from his hands. Joel braced himself, knuckles whitening, and dug his heels into the muddy bank. “Whoa, easy there!” He muttered, mostly to himself. The pull was stronger than he expected, and when he tried to reel it in, the fish fought back with a vengeance.

He glanced at you, who had perked up slightly, eyes widening at the commotion. “Look at that!” Joel grinned, pride swelling in his chest. “This one’s gotta be a monster—”

That was as far as he got before the rod yanked forward again, and Joel, stubborn as he was, didn’t let go. His boots slipped on the mud, and before he knew it, he was flying forward, landing with a loud splash in the cold, murky water. The world blurred for a second, and when he surfaced, sputtering and wiping the water from his eyes, he heard it—your laughter.