Page 4 of Rival Summer

The screen door creaked open, jolting us from our laughter. "Parker, I’ve been looking for you," a girl I hadn’t seen before announced. Her tone was sharp, and it drew our attention immediately.

"Some scroungy guy just tried to talk to me and spit in my eye," she explained, her disgust palpable. "Take me to your place?"

I couldn't help but smirk at her request. Parker had brought plenty of girls home this year, and it seemed like he was enjoying every minute of it.

"Sure thing," Parker said as he shot me a wink and rose from the wooden steps.

I stood up alongside him, brushing off the remnants of our conversation. "On that note, I'm gonna head home, too."

"Sounds good, man." Parker nodded, as he reached for her hand. "I'll catch you back at our place."

Before I left, I stole one final glance at Chandler—she was dancing, enjoying herself—radiating beauty. I couldn't help but think about the texts she’d sent me, all left unanswered as I threw myself into running or working out. I knew she was checking in on me through Parker. The guilt weighed heavily on me.

Retreating into the shadows, I found a hollow quietness where I could breathe through the ache left in me at seeing her.She made me feel like I was suffocating and breathing for the first time all at once. Maybe I pushed her away and ignored her messages because I knew deep down if anyone could reach into the depths I'd sunk into, to pull me out of this darkness I was in, it was her. It was who she was—kindness, loyalty, unwavering belief in the good of those she cared for. Despite the walls I’d built around myself, a tiny piece of me couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I’d allowed her in this year now knowing Reese wasn’t in the picture.

THREE

chandler

"This iswhat's out in the dating world right now," Kristina declared, her voice a pitch higher than usual. She turned her phone screen toward me, pointing to a profile with the username “Papi Likes Butts.” Appalled, she shook her head, still trying to decipher what she was seeing.

I pressed my lips together to keep the laugh from escaping, watching as Kristina scrolled dramatically through the photos of a man who was clearly more in love with his own abs than any potential date.

"Can you believe this?" Her tone was incredulous as she dissected each photo—the flexing, the abs, the lack of any actual face photos. “I even extended the radius from here to Bayside, hoping to find better options.”

"He could be really nice," I offered, which earned me an eye roll from her.

But as I tapped absentmindedly on my phone screen, my amusement faded, replaced by curiosity, and I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. I suddenly wondered if Reese was on dating apps, or with anyone new. My thoughts quickly started spiraling. Reese Carrington—the bad boy with so much more depth than people knew. I saw glimpses of what lay beneath that carefreeexterior. I wondered if he had a dating profile. Would he be shirtless, flaunting those piercing green eyes? Or would he have candid shots of him on his boat—reading, revealing the depth I was only just beginning to understand?

My fingers acted of their own accord, keying in his name. Flicking through Reese's Instagram grid, my thumb paused on a photo of him sitting in an empty stadium, his green eyes looking into the distance, a half-smile playing on his lips. No sign of his ex-girlfriend, Blair, or her polished presence in any frame. Just Reese, alone or with friends, in landscapes and cityscapes. It was a strange relief that there weren’t girls draped all over him, no evidence of a romance for me to agonize over. Yet it also left an unsettling void, a space where answers should have been but weren't. I never responded to his text message on my birthday. He cut off whatever fragile connection we'd cultivated at the end of last summer—and it now seemed drenched in unreal memories. Checking on him through these glimpses online hurt—it was a reminder that I was just another spectator of his life.

Thank goodness for Kristina, the one who endured my relentless analysis of every moment spent with Reese last summer. Her patience never wavered as I recounted each smile, each touch, each word that passed between us. She had become an unwitting participant in the tangled web of emotions and revelations last summer had left me with.

Kristina had been there through it all, listening to my shock, my confusion, my heartache as I tried to reconcile the two versions of Reese I knew: the boy who Parker and Boston said he was, and the man who’d shown glimpses of something deeper. From Boston’s unexpected confession of his feelings, to the bomb that dropped on top of it all… I thought back to the kindness she showed me while I struggled during the school year.

The stage lights dimmed, and the final notes of the closing song played as the curtain shut slowly. I made my way to the dressing room and there, on my vanity, sat the most beautiful bouquet of roses. The vivid red was striking against the bright white of the tabletop.

I picked up one of the roses, feeling the velvety smoothness of its petals between my fingers. The faintest smile touched my lips as I placed the rose back among the others. Kristina pretended they weren’t from her when I thanked her, but I knew they must be.

It was a ritual at every show. Her silent gesture spoke louder than words ever could.

Kristina squealed, jolting me out of my memories. Her face contorted in horror as she recounted the dating app atrocity unfolding on her phone. "Papi Likes Butts just asked me for a picture of my feet. He said that feet tell him everything he needs to know about a woman. And even worse... He sent me a picture of his feet," she shrieked, her voice hitting a pitch that could shatter glass. "Why would I want a picture of his feet? A dick pic, okay, I can deal with that, but his rugged big feet?" In disgust, she threw her hands up in the air. It was the foot that broke the camel's back.

I bit my lip, struggling to keep my own laughter from spilling out. It wasn't that I found his request particularly humorous—it was the unfiltered terror on her face that I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at.

Just then my phone dinged, a gentle chime that tore my attention away from Kristina's rant. She continued to ramble about the absurdity of modern courtship, but my gaze drifted down to a message from Willow that flashed across the screen.

Willow

Are you coming to Bayside this summer?

My thoughts drifted back to Bayside, where the sun danced on the water's surface and the days stretched into even better nights. But, I had no intention of going back there this summer.

Me

No. :(

Willow

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