Summer arrived like a slow exhale, the air thick with heat and the promise of long, lazy days. Kylie wasted no time turning our backyard pool into party central. One weekend, her entire crew descended for a sleepover—swimming, music, the works.

  I did what I always did: retreated. Swimming with my sister’s friends felt… wrong. Too many eyes, too much potential for awkwardness. So I hunkered down in my room, TV on low, controller in hand, losing myself in virtual worlds where nobody judged me.

  Hunger eventually dragged me downstairs.

  Passing the living room, I glanced through the sliding glass doors.

  The pool was alive with laughter and splashes.

  Kylie perched on Michael’s shoulders, legs gripped tight as she battled Dani, who rode some new guy’s shoulders like a warrior queen. Water flew everywhere. A couple extra guys I didn’t recognize cannonballed in, sending waves crashing. Another girl in a sleek one-piece lounged on a float, cheering.

  All the girls wore bikinis—bright colors flashing against tanned skin and sun-bleached hair.

  I stopped in the doorway, sandwich forgotten.

  It looked fun. Really fun.

  A pang of longing twisted in my chest—sharp, unexpected. I wanted to be out there. Laughing. Part of it.

  Then I scanned for Mia.

  She wasn’t there.

  My mind wandered—imagining her in a swimsuit, water glistening on her pale skin, that raven hair wet and clinging…

  A whisper at my ear nearly launched me out of my skin.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  I jumped, spinning to find Mom behind me, eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “Mom—you scared the crap out of me.”

  She chuckled. “Sorry. But I saw you staring pretty hard. Why don’t you put on your swimsuit and join them?”

  I stared at her like she’d suggested skydiving without a parachute. “What? No way. It’d be weird. Kylie would hate it.”

  “So what? Tell her I said you could.” Mom’s grin widened. “And I’m pretty sure a couple of those girls wouldn’t mind.”

  Heat flooded my face. “Mom—stop.”

  I fled to the kitchen, her laughter trailing me.

  There stood Mia—at the counter, still in the jeans and soft white blouse she’d arrived in. She tipped back a tall glass of cherry Kool-Aid, eyes closed, throat working slowly like she was savoring the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted.

  A few red droplets clung to her lower lip.

  I smiled despite myself. “You really love that stuff, huh?”

  She startled, lowering the glass and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand—smearing a faint red streak across her chin.

  “Oh—Meleek. It’s just you.”

  Her lips were stained cherry-bright. Another drop glistened on her chin.

  I stepped closer without thinking. “You missed some.”

  My thumb brushed it away gently, the skin there cool and impossibly soft.

  I wiped my hand on my jeans, suddenly aware of how close I was.

  “Why aren’t you out there swimming?” I asked. “You’re still in your regular clothes.”

  She touched her lips self-consciously, checking for more stray drops.

  “It’s… awkward,” she admitted, voice quieter. “They’re all playing games. Hard for me to join in when I can’t see.”

  “You could still swim. Hang out. Have fun.”

  Her gaze dropped to the empty glass in her hands. She rolled it slowly between her palms, shoulders curling inward.

  “Actually… I never learned how.”

  The confession hung soft and vulnerable between us.

  “Oh.” Surprise, then warmth. “Well… if you ever want, I could teach you. If you’re interested.”

  Her head lifted. A small, hopeful smile curved her lips. “I might take you up on that.”

  She started toward the door.

  The question that had been gnawing at me for weeks finally spilled out.

  “Mia—wait.”

  She paused, turning back.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  I swallowed, heart thudding. “Are you… ashamed to be my friend or something?”

  Her face shifted—surprise, then something softer, almost pained.

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “You only really talk to me—hang out—when Kylie and everyone else are asleep. Or gone.”

  The sliding door rumbled open behind us. Laughter and wet footsteps flooded in—Kylie’s friends piling inside, dripping and loud.

  Mia glanced toward the noise, then back to me.

  “Can we talk about this later?” she asked quietly. “I promise—it’s not what you think.”

  “Yeah,” I said, though doubt still twisted in my gut. “Okay.”

  She slipped away to join them.

  I stood alone in the kitchen, watching her go, the cherry stain still faint on her lips.

  Wondering what she wasn’t saying.

  And why it hurt so much to wonder.

  Mia slipped away to rejoin the others, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my half-made sandwich and a head full of questions.

  I lingered at the counter longer than necessary, replaying her promise—“It’s not what you think”—and wondering what, exactly, it was.

  The rest of the day blurred past in my room. Video games, shows—anything to distract from the ache of feeling like an outsider in my own house.

  The guys headed home as evening fell, leaving the girls for their sleepover. Mia never came up to talk.

  I fell asleep still waiting.

  Sometime deep in the night, a desperate need to pee yanked me awake.

  As I swung my legs out of bed, a soft splash drifted in from outside.

  I padded to the window.

  The pool lights were off, but moonlight silvered the water. A lone figure moved through it—graceful, unhurried strokes.

  Long raven hair fanned out like ink in the water.

  Mia.

  The one who’d said she couldn’t swim.

  Curiosity—and a flicker of hurt—pulled me downstairs.

  I used the bathroom fast, then stepped out the back door barefoot, shirtless in my pajama pants, night air cool against my skin.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Mia froze at the sound, treading water. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me,” I said, walking to the edge and crossing my arms. “Thought you couldn’t swim.”

  She turned toward my voice, cheeks coloring even in the dim light. “I… kind of lied.” Her gaze dropped to the water. “It felt pathetic admitting it. Everyone was playing games, wrestling—I can’t exactly do that blind.”

  “There were other things you could’ve done. You’d crush Marco Polo.”

  A small smirk. “Probably.”

  She floated closer, moonlight catching the droplets on her lashes. “Want to swim with me?”

  My heart gave a stupid leap. “Yeah. Let me change.”

  She laughed—soft, teasing. “You could just wear your underwear. Or skinny-dip. I’d never know. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Heat rushed through me at the memory of her pranks.

  “Tempting,” I managed, “but someone might hear us. And I’d be the only one naked.”

  “I could fix that,” she said lightly, fingers toying with one strap of her black one-piece.

  I swallowed hard, half-convinced she meant it.

  Then I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re evil. You live to tease me. Give me two minutes.”

  As I turned, her voice drifted after me—quiet, almost wistful. “I wasn’t teasing.”

  I groaned under my breath and hurried inside.

  Trunks on in record time, I dove in—cool water shocking the heat from my skin.

  I surfaced in front of her.

  “That was fast.”

  “Didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  Moonlight painted her in silvers and shadows. Wet hair clung to her shoulders; water beaded on pale skin that seemed to glow. Those icy blue eyes caught the light—ethereal, almost otherworldly.

  She let go of the edge, drifting toward me. “So… what do you want to do?”

  “Actually,” I said, treading water, “I was hoping you’d answer my question from earlier. Why do you act like we’re not friends when everyone’s around?”

  She circled slowly, thoughtful. “I’m not avoiding you. But you hide too. When we watch movies, hang out—you never join.”

  “Kylie’s friends… they weren’t always nice to me. Growing up. I guess I figure they don’t want me there. And I’m never sure what they really think of me.”

  She smiled—gentle, knowing. “You’ve heard them. Some of the girls think you’re attractive. Hot, even.”

  I laughed, embarrassed warmth spreading through me. “Yeah, that threw me. Never thought anyone would say that about me.”

  “You sell yourself short,” she said softly. “You’re kind. Sweet. And that brain of yours? It’s sexy. At least… to me.”

  My breath caught. The words hung between us, heavy with something unspoken.

  I looked away, water lapping at my chest. “Thanks. I guess I’ve just… always been the weird elf kid. Different. In a world where looks seem to matter more than anything.”

  “Not to everyone,” she murmured. “Not to me.”

  Silence stretched—comfortable, but charged.

  Then I ruined it.

  “But… you can’t see.”

  The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  She stilled. Hurt flickered across her face—quick, but I saw it.

  I winced. “Sorry. That was stupid.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was.”

  We floated in quiet for a moment.

  Then she spoke again, voice steady but firm. “One more thing: stop tearing yourself down. Confidence is attractive. If you ever want someone to see you that way… start seeing yourself.”

  I swallowed. “That’ll probably never happen. But… thanks for the pep talk.”

  She splashed me lightly, breaking the tension. “God, you’re hopeless.”

  After that, the mood lifted.

  We raced—her strokes smooth and strong despite the dark.

  We played breath-holding contests.

  I was cocky. I could stay under forever—five minutes easy. Family record.

  We submerged together.

  I watched her.

  She sank into stillness—eyes closed, no bubbles, body perfectly relaxed.

  Minutes ticked by.

  My lungs started burning.

  She hadn’t moved.

  I shot up, gasping.

  She surfaced seconds later—calm, barely winded, smiling like it was nothing.

  Everything about her amazed me.

  And scared me a little, too.

  We finally climbed out of the pool, skin pruned and bodies heavy with exhaustion. I handed Mia a towel from the rack, watching her wrap it around herself before heading inside to let her shower first.

  I dried off in my room, too tired to bother with another one tonight. The clock glowed nearly four a.m.—I hadn’t realized we’d been out there so long.

  Just as I sank onto the bed, ready to crash, a soft knock sounded.

  The door eased open.

  “Meleek… are you dressed?” Mia whispered.

  I grinned into the dark. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Then, softer, “Kidding. I’m decent.”

  She stepped in, still in her damp black one-piece, towel draped loosely over her shoulders. Moonlight from the window caught the water droplets clinging to her collarbone.

  “What’s up? Need another towel?”

  She shook her head, fingers twisting the edge of the fabric. “Actually… I have a kind of weird request.”

  I sat up, curiosity overriding fatigue. “Shoot.”

  She hesitated, gaze lowered. “You might think it’s strange. But there’s a way I can… see what you look like. I was hoping you’d let me touch your face.”

  The words hung in the quiet room.

  I blinked. “Like in movies? I thought that was just romantic stuff.”

  “Please?” Her voice was small, almost pleading.

  Something tender twisted in my chest. “Okay.”

  I scanned the room. “Computer chair?”

  “Isn’t there a couch?”

  “Just the bed.”

  “That’s fine.”

  My pulse kicked up as I took her hand—cool, damp—and guided her to sit cross-legged facing me.

  She closed her eyes, lifting her hands slowly, searching.

  “You in front of me?”

  “Yeah.” I leaned in a fraction.

  Her fingertips brushed my chest first—ice-cold.

  I shivered. “You cold?”

  “I’m fine,” she murmured. “Cold never really bothers me.”

  I smiled. “Me neither.”

  Her hands shifted, palms gliding up my neck, tracing my jaw with feather-light precision.

  I watched her face—concentrated, lips slightly parted, utterly focused.

  Fingers lingered along my throat. A soft exhale escaped her.

  My breath caught.

  She moved higher, exploring the curve of my cheeks, the ridge of my brows.

  When her fingertips traced the pointed edges of my ears—slow, deliberate—I closed my eyes involuntarily.

  A shiver ran through me; a quiet sound slipped out before I could stop it.

  Her lips curved—she’d heard. She bit the lower one, almost shyly.

  Thumbs met at the bridge of my nose, then drifted downward, outlining my lips with heartbreaking gentleness.

  I opened my eyes.

  Her face was inches away.

  Had I moved? Had she?

  I could feel her breath—cool, quick—against my skin.

  My heart thundered.

  She licked her lips once, leaning closer.

  Closer.

  Just as I thought—hoped—our lips might brush—

  The door swung open.

  “Meleek, have you seen Mi—”

  Kylie froze mid-step.

  Mia jerked back, hands dropping to her lap.

  Heat flooded my face.

  Kylie’s eyes narrowed. “Were you two kissing? Mia—what were you doing to my brother?”

  Mia stood quickly, head bowed, looking small and ashamed.

  I shot up. “Kylie—it’s not what you think. She was just… feeling my face. To see what I look like.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kylie’s tone dripped skepticism.

  She crossed the room, took Mia’s hand, and tugged gently but firmly. “Come on. We need to talk about some rules while you’re here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mia whispered as they left.

  The door clicked shut.

  I sank onto the bed, hands dragging over my burning face.

  We’d almost kissed.

  Mia—beautiful, brilliant, impossible Mia—had almost kissed me.

  The memory of her cool fingertips, her breath on my lips, the way she’d leaned in…

  I fell back, staring at the ceiling, a helpless smile spreading.

  Does she like me?

  The question looped, warm and dizzying, until dawn crept through the curtains.

  I didn’t sleep much after that.

  The next couple of weeks dragged like an eternity.

  Mia didn’t come over—not once—even when Kylie had the usual crowd. I’d catch myself listening for her soft laugh in the hallway, scanning the living room for that flash of raven hair. Nothing.

  Doubt gnawed at me.

  Had I done something wrong that night? Pushed too far? Or had Kylie gotten angry and ended their friendship?

  Kylie wouldn’t do that… would she?

  I couldn’t take the silence anymore.

  One night, I marched to her door and pushed it open without waiting—just like she always did to me.

  She was sprawled on her bed, earbuds in, thumbs flying over her phone.

  I reached over and turned her music down.

  She scowled. “What do you want?”

  “Where’s Mia been?” The words came out sharper than I meant. “She hasn’t come over at all.”

  Kylie sat up, setting her phone aside. “I told her to stay away for a while. From the house. And you.”

  The air left my lungs. “Why? She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s my friend too.”

  Kylie stood, closing the distance. “She’s my friend. And you two were seconds from kissing. Stuff could’ve happened.”

  “So what?” Heat rose in my chest. “I like her. I’m pretty sure she likes me. What’s wrong with that? You have Michael—why can’t I have someone?”

  Her voice climbed. “I’m protecting you! I won’t let you two get together. Stay away from my friends.”

  The words hit like a slap.

  Tears stung my eyes; I clenched my fists to hide the shake in my hands.

  “You get everything,” I said, voice cracking. “Friends. A boyfriend. A life. And I’m just supposed to stay locked in this house like a freak forever?”

  “Meleek—”

  “No.” Tears spilled over. “I just wanted something good. My own friends. Someone who sees me. Mia was the closest I’ve ever had to that. And now you’ve taken her too.”

  I turned and stormed out.

  “Damn it—wait!” she called.

  I slammed her door. Then mine.

  Collapsed on my bed, face buried in my pillow, sobs muffled against the fabric.

  A few minutes later, another knock—soft this time.

  Kylie slipped in. “Meleek… I’m sorry. Can I talk?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  She closed the door anyway and sat on the edge of the mattress.

  “Then just listen.”

  I threw an arm over my eyes, hiding the tears.

  “I know you think I’m being awful,” she said quietly. “But I’m not lying—I’m trying to protect you.”

  I stayed silent.

  She took a breath. “Remember how wrecked you were when Luna and Lucian left? Your only real friends—gone. It crushed you. And Mia…” Her voice softened. “Her family’s strict. They only date within their own… kind. She won’t be allowed to be with you. She knows it. I don’t want you hurt again when it falls apart.”

  I moved my arm, looking at her through blurry eyes.

  “But she was going to kiss me.”

  Kylie nodded, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. She likes you. A lot. That’s why I asked her to stay away—for now. Let the feelings cool. So you don’t get heartbroken.”

  The fight drained out of me.

  “Do you think I’ll ever get to have a normal life?” I whispered. “A girlfriend? Anything like what you have?”

  She bumped my shoulder gently. “You can’t have Michael. He’s mine.”

  I huffed a wet laugh. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” She squeezed my hand. “Everything will be okay. How about this—next time I have friends over, you come hang out. No hiding.”

  “Wouldn’t that be weird? Your little brother crashing?”

  “Maybe they’ll become your friends too.”

  I wiped my eyes. “I guess I could try.”

  She stood. “Good.” At the door she paused, smirking. “Oh—and no hitting on my friends.”

  I grinned through the tears. “Can’t promise that. Some of them think I’m pretty sexy.”

  She groaned. “Oh god. I’m leaving.”

  The door clicked shut.

  I lay there a while longer, chest lighter.

  Things did get better.

  Kylie kept her word—she started inviting me down when her friends came over. Slowly, awkwardly, they warmed to me. Some even started dropping by when Kylie wasn’t home—just to game or talk.

  I got close with Michael, surprisingly. He was easygoing, funny—treated me like a person, not a curiosity.

  There was drama, of course.

  One of Kylie’s friends kissed Michael behind her back. Friendship over. Relationship nearly shattered.

  But he fought for her—told her he loved her, that the other girl had come onto him.

  They worked it out.

  Watching them made the ache sharper sometimes.

  I still craved more—freedom, a life beyond these walls.

  Mom homeschooled me two more years.

  Then, senior year, they surprised me.

  “You’re going to Kylie’s school,” Dad said over dinner, grinning.

  My fork clattered to the plate.

  Real school.

  Real people.

  A real chance.

  For the first time in years, hope felt dangerously close.