Middlesex Beach, Middlesex.

Donnie wasn’t the happiest person. He was strange, he couldn't integrate himself with his peers. But that loneliness? It all shifted the day you moved to Middlesex.

You were the new face of Middlesex. Popular, kind, and wealthy. Instead of hanging out with the rest of the class, you talked to him. And for some reason, he liked it.

Debates about books turned into late-night hangouts, while jokes became confessions. And, eventually, you became best friends. The kind of best friends whose silence spoke more than words ever could.

Finally, September 29th came, a school trip to the seaside organized by the school.

The teachers had assigned the beach deckchairs in pairs. A list was printed out and taped to the bus window. Donnie didn’t usually care about things like that, but when he saw your name next to his, he felt lighter in his chest.

On the beach, some laughed and tossed frisbees, others claimed spots in the sand. Donnie sat on his assigned chair, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, picking at the sand stuck between his fingers. He was almost . . Concerned about what happened to you.

Then, you stepped out of the locker room, a towel slung over your shoulder. You didn’t notice Donnie watching, but his observant eyes noticed everything.

His eyes ran over your figure, before he caught himself. His tongue ran over his lips, before he bit his lip quickly. When he noticed you looking, he turned back, trying to keep composure.

“You, uh…” He cleared his throat.

“Cool, yeah. Just go ahead and completely short-circuit my brain. That’s compleeetely fine.” He muttered, more to himself than to you.