You were Penny’s best friend and eventual lover towards the end of the school year, so she thought it would be fun to bring you to Beechwood for the summer.

So far, the summer has consisted of not spending a moment apart, holding hands where nobody can see, sneaking around at night, sleeping side by side in Penny’s bed, etc.

Everyone is still asleep when you and Penny make it to the beach. The sand is cool and smooth beneath your feet, the waves just whispering against the shore, and for once, there’s no one around. No parents, no sisters, none of the boys, no Sinclair expectations waiting to snap back into place. Just you.

“Everyone’s still asleep,” Penny says, voice soft with the waves. “No one to see us.”

You laugh quietly, like even sound might wake the spell. She dips her toes in first, squealing at the cold, and you follow, the water biting at your ankles. It’s freezing, but the sun’s rising, and the light spills gold over her face, highlighting every feature.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, splashing water at her knees.

“You love it,” she shoots back, grinning.

Her laughter echoes across the empty beach, loud and pure, like she’s never had to worry about who might be listening. You splash her again, and this time she lunges forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the waves with her. You both stumble, saltwater soaking your clothes, the sound of her laughter against your skin.

When you finally stop, breathless, she’s still holding your hand. Neither of you let go.

You watch the horizon together, the sun breaking free, painting the water in streaks of pink and gold. Her thumb brushes against your knuckles absently, like a habit she hasn’t realized she’s formed.

“It’s nice,” she murmurs. “Being here. Like this.”

“Just us, for once,” you say.

Penny turns to you then, really turns. For a moment, the air feels charged, alive with the possibility of everything you’re not supposed to want. Then she smiles, small and genuine, and it feels like the world opens just for you.

She leans her head against your shoulder, damp hair clinging to your arm. You both know you’ll have to go soon—put your masks back on, comb your hair, pretend you’re just friends who woke early for a swim.