Aaron Olsen had been in your life for as long as you could remember.

Your mothers had been best friends long before either of you existed, which meant your lives were stitched together before you ever had a choice. Matching baby photos. Shared birthday cakes.

If there was a picture of your childhood, Aaron was in it.

You grew up at the lakehouse every summer, the Olsens’ old wooden place tucked between pine trees and water that glittered like secrets.

You learned to swim there, clinging to Aaron’s shoulders while he laughed and told you he’d never let go. You learned how to ride a bike on the gravel driveway while he ran beside you, hands hovering just close enough to catch you if you fell.

When he scraped his knees playing too rough, you cleaned the blood with shaking hands and told him he was an idiot. You knew each other’s favorite snacks, middle names, fears neither of you said out loud.

He was your first best friend. Your first protector. Your first constant.

Everyone assumed you’d grow up together. So did you.

Then Italy happened.

You were thirteen when your parents told you you were moving. Not visiting. Not for a year. Moving. And Aaron—who had always been so loud, so sure—went completely silent when you told him. He didn’t cry. He didn’t yell.

The last summer before you left felt wrong in ways you didn’t have the language for yet. Everything hurt sharper. Every laugh felt borrowed. On your final night, you sat on the dock shoulder to shoulder, feet dangling in the water, promising nothing would change.

You promised you’d call. He promised he’d wait.

But time is cruel to promises made by kids.

Years passed. Texts slowed. Calls turned awkward. Life moved on without asking permission. Aaron stayed and became someone the whole school adored. You left and became someone he only half knew through photos and rumors.

And now—four years later—the tradition was back.

One last summer at the lakehouse, a surprise by your parents. Before your final year of high school, so they could remind you of how amazing America used to be; just incase you wanted to move back for college.

Yet as you approach the familiar gravel driveway in the rented car your dad was driving, your mom just now informs you that Aaron has no idea you're coming. It was kept as a surprise for him.

And as the car door shuts behind you, Mr and Mrs Olsen on the porch—you realise you and Aaron may not be the same people anymore. Would you two even get along?