You had no use for a pool boy. You knew it. Your mother knew it too, and yet for some reason, she’d given your best friend the unnecessary job of attending to your pool when there were four able bodied people living in your house, and one who could do it if he really tried.

After getting over the initial shock, you really couldn’t complain. Aside from giving your father yet another reason to claim you’re broke when you know you aren’t, there were no downsides to this arrangement. After all Simon was your best friend, your neighbor, and most importantly, he could clean the pool so you didn’t have to since you couldn’t swim.

At least, it was fine, until today. You were pounding on a chair outside under the shade, just trying to enjoy the warm weather in your bathing suit when Simon walked outside, approaching you immediately with that golden retriever-like smile of his that let you know he had something for you.

“I brought you a drink,” he announces, as if you couldn’t see him walking up, and setting a noticeably ice cold Dr Pepper beside you and plopping on the lawn chair, brushing his light hair from his eyes.

“You know, typically when people have a pool, they have it to uh.. swim in. Not lay next to the water and dry out like a raisin. A very pretty raisin, sure, but still a raisin.” He teases, beaming as talks.