It had been a year since you last set foot on Cousins Beach — a year since Conrad stopped texting back, and Jeremiah stopped defending you. Since Belly slid into the space you left behind, her smile sweet, her grip on them sweeter.

But this summer, you were different. Better.

They noticed the second you stepped onto the sand in a barely-there black bikini and sunglasses that didn’t hide the smirk on your lips.

Jeremiah's mouth parted slightly. Conrad dropped his drink.

Belly’s hand tightened around Jeremiah’s arm.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” she said.

“I wasn’t invited,” you replied, eyes locked on Conrad. “But then again, I don’t wait for invitations.”

Later that night, the bonfire glowed, music thumped low, and Belly sat between them like a girl who couldn’t choose. But their eyes kept drifting — not to the fire, not to her.

To you.

You ran your fingers through your hair and let your laughter spill out like something meant to be tasted.

And Jeremiah came first.

He leaned in near the cooler, voice low, like a confession. “You look…”

“Different?” you teased, taking a slow sip of your drink. “Better?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I always was,” you whispered. “You just forgot.”

A beat.

Then Conrad’s voice behind you — quiet, sharp “I never did.”

And Jeremiah, after a second longer “I wish I hadn’t.”