I've just finished eating breakfast—a bagel and a cup of blueberry yogurt—when my phone buzzes with the notification of a message. I fish it out of the pocket of my cargo shorts, glancing down at the device's lock screen. 

It's a text from Axel.

A strange—though not entirely unpleasant—flutter trills through my chest at the sight. I hadn't heard from him since after the hike, when he'd simultaneously thanked me for inviting him and complained about the blisters forming on the sides of his feet—a consequence of wearing the beaten-up, hardly supportive Converse, I'd told him.

It's still odd to be back in contact with him after all of these years of avoiding just that.

I shake the thought away, forcing myself to focus on the contents of the message. 

Axel: hey! I was wondering if you wanted to come up to my room and hang out today? we could watch a movie or something, up to you

I stare at the text. It's almost baffling to me that, in the span of just a few days, I'd gone from hating this boy's guts to voluntarily choosing to spend time with him. A lot can change in a few days, I muse as I unlock my phone and open the messages app, in which I squint down at the words for a moment longer before hesitantly typing a reply.

Me: Sure, what time?

His response is instantaneous, as if he'd been waiting with the app open.

Axel: honestly whenever, I'm not up to much

I chuckle to myself.

Me: I'm just about done with breakfast, so I can head up in a bit if that's alright?

Axel: that sounds perfect

Axel: see you soon

I stare down at the texts for a moment before letting out a breath and shoving my phone back into my pocket. Well, then. I guess I've got plans this afternoon, after all. I collect my empty plate and yogurt cup, standing to toss my trash away.

With that done, I wander toward the elevator with my hands in my pockets. I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to hanging out with him. Just last week, I would have done anything to avoid Axel. But... I don't know. Something's different. I don't know that I forgive him, but I'm starting to let myself try.

I press the button to call the elevator, shifting my weight onto one hip to wait. When the doors slide open, I have to pause for a moment to allow a young couple to exit. I can't help but watch them as they nod their thanks and walk toward the lobby, their hands linked between them. They share a sort of casual intimacy I find myself wishing I had. Rubbing the back of my neck, I shake it off and step into the elevator.

A minute later, I step out onto the fourth floor. He said his room number was 420, I remind myself as I make my way down the hall in search of Axel's room. Knowing him, he probably found that hilarious.

At long last, I reach the door with the correct number. Taking a breath to steel myself, I knock.

Axel's face greets me almost immediately. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"Thanks for... Inviting me?"

"I take it this is more social interaction in a week than you've had the past six months."

"How'd you guess?"

Snorting out a laugh, Axel nods toward his room. "Okay, nerd. Just come on in."

I roll my eyes as I follow him inside, shutting the door behind me. Axel plops onto his bed and I settle hesitantly down beside him, watching as he collects the TV remote from the bedside table.

"So... I didn't manage to find The Princess and the Frog. I don't have the right streaming service for it, apparently," he admits with an apologetic shrug. "But there's some frog documentary we could watch. I figured it was the next best thing. If you want, of course."

I chuckle. "Um, alright. Sure."

Axel flashes me a grin as he navigates to the show he mentioned. It seems to be playing on live television; while it started before Axel turned it on, it's still not quite halfway over. The current segment appears to be about what frogs do to survive the winter months.

"Certain species can freeze nearly solid," the documentary's narrator speaks in a soft voice. "One such species is the wood frog. These unique individuals have evolved to freeze more than half of their body every winter."

"Interesting." Axel murmurs, shifting to lean against the bed's headboard. I hesitantly inch closer to sit beside him.

"I thought you didn't care about all of these fun facts," I reply as I stare transfixed at the brown frog currently taking up most of the screen. "You don't have to pretend for my benefit."

"Pfft." He grins. "I'm not pretending. I totally love... Wood frogs?"

I roll my eyes. "We can watch something else if you want."

Axel shakes his head. "No, no, no. I want to watch this."

I raise an eyebrow but decide not to argue as I turn back around to face the TV.

"This wood frog is about to begin the process herself," the narrator continues as the camera pans to the frog he refers to. "Amphibians just like this one produce urea and glycogen to make a chemical similar to antifreeze. This fills and protects their cells and vital organs, while the rest of their body freezes solid."

I glance over at Axel. Surprisingly enough, he's watching the show with interest—though it's hard to tell whether it's genuine. I find myself leaning a little closer to sit by his side. The movement causes the boy to glance toward me, his eyebrows raised.

"Sorry," I mutter, my cheeks blazing with an embarrassed blush. "I wasn't trying to... I can..." I shift away to put more distance between us again, but Axel grabs my arm before I can get very far.

"No, it's alright," he replies with a smile. "I don't mind."

"You... Don't mind?"

Axel shakes his head, and I get the indication that he's referring to more than my sitting near him. I don't mind your anger, his fond expression seems to tell me. I don't mind your blame. I'm here either way.

I hardly notice the way his hand lingers on my arm until I feel Axel's grip shift down from my forearm to my wrist to my hand. He raises an eyebrow—a silent question of whether this is okay. I smile, offering him a faint nod.

"So, I don't know whether you still think the same way about me, after all these years," Axel mumbles after a moment, his eyes flitting hesitantly between me and the documentary. "But I... When I wrote that song I sent you..."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Song? 

"Oh, don't worry about it," I chuckle when I notice he seems to be waiting for my response. "It's okay."

"Huh?" His expression mirrors the uncertainty on my face.

"It's okay," I repeat with a shrug. "I don't need a song. And I... I don't know if I... But..." I sputter, struggling to formulate my thoughts into sentences. My mind still spins around Axel's mention of a song, but I have no idea what he's talking about. Am I missing something?

I freeze as Axel brings up his free hand to brush a lock of hair out of my face. His other hand remains latched around mine in an almost protective hold.

"You already know how I feel, from the song," he replies, though he seems a little uncertain upon seeing my confusion. "I'm not going to try and say it again with real words; I've never been good at that. And we can take things slow—honestly I'd be fine just being friends, if I at least have you back in some way—but I'd really like to... I'd... Could I..?"

I watch as his blue eyes dip a bit lower to rest on my lips. I suck in a breath. Just as I'd been before, I'm unsure. But some of my previous hesitance has disappeared since the night by the ocean. This time, I dare to mimic Axel's movement, letting my own gaze dance between his eyes and his lips. A flash of hopeful recognition flickers across the boy's features. His eyelids flutter closed, and I let my own do the same as Axel draws me closer, one hand lightly gripping my chin.

A roar of sound makes us flinch apart from each other in surprise, Axel's hands dropping to his sides as his head whips toward the window. I follow his gaze, wandering to the sill. My eyes go wide as I note the growing crowd gathered outside the hotel. "Um... Axel? You might want to see this."

I step aside to allow Axel past as he stares out the window. I see the moment he recognizes the source of the commotion as his jaw clenches tighter, a muscle twitching as he forces a swallow. "It's my bandmates."