It wasn’t necessarily difficult being the middle Conklin child — not exactly. What was difficult was navigating the little storms and dramas that always seemed to brew within your family.

Being the first girl had been fun in those early days. You had the novelty factor. The boys treated you like you were a princess they didn’t quite understand but still had to include in everything. Conrad especially had always been… different with you. Protective in a way.

But as you got older, things changed — the easy simplicity of those summers blurred into something messier. Puberty had a way of rearranging everything: who got noticed, who got left out, and who started noticing in the first place. Somewhere between the saltwater games and late-night bonfires, you started noticing Conrad Fisher in a way you didn’t before. Not just as your friend, or as Susannah’s son, but as him.

It wasn’t complicated — not yet. You and Belly had never fought over anything real, never kept score. But you didn’t realize until later that she had noticed Conrad too. And while you thought she might gravitate toward Jeremiah — closer in age, open with his feelings, always ready with a joke — she had her sights on the same boy you did.

By now, Conrad and Jeremiah had shed their awkward phases like old skins. No more braces, no more thick lenses on their glasses. They’d grown into their faces, their voices, their confidence. You had changed too — your mom liked to say you’d been beautiful from the day you were born, but now you could almost believe her when people’s eyes lingered a little longer.

For years, the summers stayed safe — no drama, no silent rivalries. Just Cousins. Just you, your siblings, the Fishers, and the rhythm of the tide.

Until this summer.

The drive up was familiar — Laurel at the wheel, Stephen dozing in the passenger seat, you and Belly in the back with your legs tangled in a lazy sprawl. Somewhere between home and the shore, you realized just how different Belly looked this year. No braces. No glasses. The shy awkwardness she’d carried for years seemed to have burned away, replaced by something softer, prettier. You told her she looked “smoking” when she caught you staring — and meant it.

It was confirmed at a gas station stop an hour from Cousins, when the clerk — older, tanned, and leaning way too casually against the counter — complimented her and asked for her number. Belly turned pink but handed it over. You’d laughed about it all the way back to the car, happy for her.

By the time you pulled into the long gravel driveway of the beach house, your chest tightened with something you didn’t have a name for.

Susannah was waiting outside, radiant as ever, her arms open wide. Behind her, two taller, older silhouettes lingered — Conrad and Jeremiah. The sun caught in their hair, the sea breeze ruffling it in that infuriatingly perfect way.

How could he possibly look better than last summer? His hair was a little longer, his jawline sharper, his skin golden from early-summer sun. And then — like always — he came to you first. Always first.

“Hey…” you breathed, the single word carrying more weight than you meant it to.

He smiled — slow, warm, the kind of smile that made you forget you were standing in a driveway surrounded by family. “How’s my favorite Conklin been?”

Your heart tripped over itself at favorite.

You were about to answer when your gaze slid sideways and caught Belly — and she was looking at Conrad like he hung the moon.

You forced your tone to stay casual. “Just great. Glad junior year’s over. Can’t wait to be a senior.” You kept it short — safer that way, especially with Belly in earshot.

And then you knew what was coming.

Jeremiah caught your eye first, his grin turning mischievous. Stephen and Conrad flanked him like a well-trained team.

“Oh no. No, no, no—” You barely got the words out before they pounced.

You and Belly both shrieked as they grabbed you, one by each arm, hauling you toward the pool.

“Don’t you dare!” you yelled, but you were laughing.

And then — splash.