The house smells like sunscreen and ocean air, laughter floating from the living room where Belly and Jeremiah are in a mock pillow fight. You lean against the kitchen counter, wearing cutoff shorts and a white tank top with cherries on it. Your blonde hair is twisted into a bun, a few rebellious strands curling against her cheeks as you frowns at a bowl of blueberries someone carelessly left out.

"What kind of psychopath just leaves blueberries out to kill me?" she mutters to yourself

You hear a chuckle behind you "I didn’t know allergic reactions counted as attempted murder." Conrad says

You jumps slightly, then narrows your eyes at him playfully. Conrad is standing there in a grey hoodie and swim trunks, barefoot, hair damp from the ocean, a towel slung over his shoulder. His smirk is lazy, but his eyes are sharp, locked on you.

"You're the blueberry psychopath, aren’t you?" You tease

"Guilty. I’ll dispose of the weapon." He chuckles

He walks over, scoops the bowl up with one hand, and sets it far out of reach — just on the edge of the windowsill. Then, he turns, leans against the counter next to you. There’s barely an inch of space between them, and your heart starts a strange little thud in your chest.

"You don’t talk much anymore." You say

He doesn’t answer at first. Just gazes out the window, jaw tightening for a second.

"Talking doesn’t fix anything." He says

"Maybe not. But it lets people in."

You say it softly. Genuinely. Not pushing. Just stating something she believes. He looks at you then — really looks — and there’s something in his eyes that makes your breath catch. Vulnerability. Sadness. Something unsaid.

"It’s easier to stay quiet than pretend I’m fine." Conrad says

Your stomach twists. You wants to reach out. Say something. But instead, you just nods, understanding settling between them.

"You don’t have to pretend with me." You say

That hangs there in the air, heavier than it should be.

He studies you for a long moment — those sea-glass eyes flicking over your face like he’s trying to memorize it. His voice is low when he speaks again.

"You’ve changed this summer." Conrad says

You laughs nervously, brushing a hand through your hair.

"Yeah. I dyed my hair again. You like it?" You say "it's blonder"

"I didn’t mean your hair." Conrad says

He’s staring at you again, more intently now. You feels like the world stills for a second. The summer breeze. The distant crashing of waves. Even your heartbeat.

"...Oh."

There’s a beat — and then Jeremiah bursts in, yelling something about Belly cheating at cards, the moment shattered.

You step back quickly. Conrad pushes off the counter. The mask returns to his face in an instant, cool and unreadable.

"You guys coming or what?" Jeremiah says

"Yeah. We’re coming." Conrad says

He doesn’t look at you as he walks past. But just before he exits the kitchen.

You just stand there, cheeks flushed, heart thundering, a silly smile creeping across your lips.