"And now: let go!"

A soft, warm breeze trickles by just as Stella squeezes her eyes shut—lifting her hair as she lets her hold of the sturdy, sand-colored rope ease, feeling it slip through her fingers. Clasping her palms together, she brings them close to her chest as her hair flutters against her shoulders, the wind a whoosh in her ears as she falls. And then she reaches the surface of the lake with a great splash.

Despite having been at the mercy of the sun's rays all day long, there's a chill to the temperature of the water as it wraps around her, having small goosebumps erupt along Stella's warm skin as she swims back up. Emerging, she bats her eyes open and lets her lips form a wide smile.

"Amateur."

Mouth falling open with a small puff of air, Stella narrows her eyes at Jake and speaks through a chortled breath. "Excuse you?"

Treading water, Jake inches back as Fizzy swims past them in the formation of an eight. "You closed your eyes."

Disregarding her usual seamless graceful swim-movements, Stella kicks back to float on her back and lets her heel come down hard against the surface with a precise aim to splash water in Jake's face.

A hint of amusement dances over her lips as she stares up at the mild early evening sky. "You just told me to swing myself off a cliff, of course I closed my eyes."

She lets her gaze drift sideways to said cliff, which isn't a cliff at all. A half-steep patch of stone would be a more precise description of the terrain that sits in the center of the small bay. At best.

Trees wind around it in half a circle, creating the illusion of a cove. The cove. The crowns of the trees are a splatter of green against the blue sky, the leaves rustling with the faint sway of the wind. They operate as a border, separating this small patch of a Blue Windflower Lake landmark (Jake's words, not hers) from the rest of the town. And the world.

A strong rope swing hangs from one of the highest branches, creating a pathway from the edge of the cliff into the lake stretching out below.

The splashing cove.

That's what Jake had called it earlier, around noon, when he'd suggested they go. They'd been sat at the dock, an already solved crossword-puzzle between them as Stella painted her—and then his—nails in a soft pink color.

A few hours later, as the sweltering heat of the day transcended into a more comfortable warmth, they left the house behind—striped beach-totes packed to the brim hanging from the handlebars of their bicycles as they'd set off, Fizzy at their heels. Performing a sure to be tone-deaf duet of 'A Whole New World', clothes sticking to their skin despite the breeze as they biked side by side along a gravel path. The song's been stuck on their brains for the past three days, the two of them having spent their Tuesday cooped up in the house: favoring a slow day of watching movies and accidentally napping together on the couch rather than spend it out in the sun. A pause, of sorts.

They'd continued to sing while climbing through the woods, having left their bikes to the side of the road. Though—while lifting tree branches out of their way, letting them whip behind them in the still quite warm breeze—every now and then, Stella had momentarily paused in her song to pose the most important question one has ever asked through the history of time: Are we there yet?

Sidestepping roots, whirling around patches of sprigs, reaching his hands out to help her up steeper stones, Jake had continued to shoot her amused—yet slightly tired—looks, the word soon falling from his lips before she barely had the chance to ask again.

Ahead of them, Fizzy had skipped through the terrain easily. She'd run straight through the green of the sprigs and bounded up the slight hills. Not at all bothered by the soft earth (which Stella's blue slip-in sandals kept sinking into) or the leafy branches in their way, having wagged her tail all the while.

Then as Stella, for the umpteenth time, had breathed out "How soon?" Jake had beamed back at her with a "Now".

Ducking beneath a few branches, he'd held them up for her to do the same and then beckoned Fizzy to come along. In an instant, the scent of lake seeming to always linger in the town's air grew stronger and as she gazed out before her, Stella realized she was stood atop a boulder, looking out at the calm surface of the water.

Jake had tapped his knuckles to the screen of her baseball cap with a smile before making a show of throwing his arms out wide, almost loosing hold of the navy-white beach bag in his other hand. "The splashing cove."

While Fizzy had bounded into the water, Stella had let her bag fall from her shoulder to her hand, fingers closing around the cotton straps before letting go. She'd gazed over the private patch of bay, her skin sticky from the bike ride as well as the climb through the woods, as she breathed in the earthy, damp, sweet scent of lake.

"So," She'd said as she slid her sandals off, walking over the stone on bare feet to the makeshift swing —a sturdy rope fastened to one of the highest branches—hung at the edge of the boulder sat atop the water. Eyeing it, one hand on her hip, she'd shot a glance Jake's way. "How does this thing work exactly?"

"Well, you kind of just–,"

Jake had walked over, the head radiating off him as his arm brushed against hers. Shrugging out of his T-shirt, he'd taken the swing out of her hand as he backed away with a smile widening into a grin, then sprinted, swinging himself over the edge with a loud whooping sound before crashing through the surface of the water with a huge splash—sending droplets of it far and wide.

A surge of something had appeared in her gut then, stood on the edge waiting, only dispersing with a flood of relief as he'd come back up—beaming at her from down below.

"The splashing cove," She'd called out then, lips beginning to form a small smile as she pulled her tank top away from where it clung to her skin and overhead. Letting her denim shorts fall to her ankles, she'd stepped out of them and taken hold of the rope of the swing. "Creative."

"I know, right? Your turn!"

Now, shifting back to treading water while narrowly dodging being swam into Fizzy, Stella says "I'm going to swing again."

She's barely begun making her way back toward the cliff as Jake passes her by in a crawl.

A hint of a smirk plays over his lips as he glances back at her. "Not before I do."

"Where the hell did you learn to swim like that?" Stella demands through a laugh—fairly impressed by her friend's form—, pushing past him again but he's quick to kick away, already taking hold of the smaller boulders lining the steep of the cliff to haul his way up.

Soon at his heels, Stella reaches up and laces her fingers around his ankle to stop him only to accidentally yank him back, causing him to fall backwards into the water with a surprised laugh.

"Foul play."

Quick to climb up in his place, Stella's palms touch against grass, moss and then stone. "I wasn't aware there are rules."

"Don't you know anything about water safety?"

"You're still afloat!"

Running over the stone, she almost slips—feet sliding over the rough surface—but finds her footing at the last seconds, fingers shooting out to lace around the rope of the swing.

"You okay?" Jake calls up to her as she begins to back up against the trees, rope firmly held in her hands.

"I'm fine!" She calls back, running and spinning herself over the edge with a victorious laugh. Her lips widen in a smile as the hues of the world—the green of the trees, the blue of the cloudless sky and the pink glow of the sun beginning to melt over the horizon—flash before her eyes, blurring into one big messy color palette as she slips through the surface of the lake.

Her lips crack into a bigger grin as she remains down there for a few moments longer, welcoming the peace the water grants her. Then, sensing the water move beside her, she kicks her way back up through the surface to find Jake right there next to her—having swung from the swing as well.

Pushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes, Stella mirrors his beaming smile. 

  "You were right; this is fun."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

This time, as they race one another to the swing, Stella doesn't manage to save her fall. Her knees slam down—hard and fast—against the slippery, rough, dark stone.

A hiss escapes her lips as the air's knocked out of her, wet lashes sticking together as she blinks in surprise, her laughter fading from her tongue. "Shit."

Jake's by her side in an instant, crouching down next to her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Falling back onto her bum, Stella winces as she stretches her legs out before her. Okay, so maybe it does hurt. Just a little bit.

Droplets of water lingers in Jake's dark lashes, trailing down his skin as his gaze falls to her right knee at the exact same moment hers does. "You're hurt."

A surprised chortle slips Stella's tongue with her words, "I'm not hurt."

"Stells."

"Jake."

"That's a wound."

Stella can't help the laugh climbing up her throat, smile tugging at her lips. "It's just a scrape. I'm fine–. What are you doing?"

Turning around from where he's knelt before their two beach-totes, Jake holds up a can of lemonade and a bottle of water.

"Are we drinking our sorrows away?" Stella shifts in her seat, pushing a hand through her damp curls. "Because I'm pretty sure that would require something stronger than lemonade."

Faint amusement dances over Jake's lips. "We need to get it clean."

"It's barely a cut."

"Here," He hands her the lemonade and as she stares at it, he lets his palm cover hers and moves her hand to press the cold can against her knee. "For the pain."

"It barely–," Stella hisses as Jake presses a napkin soaked in water to her—okay, maybe not so small—scrape-wound. "...Hurts."

"You're an awful liar."

"So I've heard."

A notch appears between Jake's brows as his fingers carefully traces the cut. "Sorry," He shoots her a sympathetic smile as she presses her teeth together. "Of course this happens when the one person who'd been prepared isn't here."

"Faye, I know," Stella bites down on her lip to quell another grimace as she holds the cold can of lemonade to her slight injury. Regarding Jake, she scoots back an inch. "You don't have to fuss over me. I'm okay."

As he doesn't look convinced she sets the can back onto the ground, letting her palms flatten against the stone behind her. "Really, could've been worse—could've been a sprained ankle. Now, help me up so I can get to that swing before you do."

Another beat passes as Jake hesitates, then, as Stella raises her brows, he sighs. "Fine, okay,"

Carefully lacing his fingers around both her elbows, he weighs back on his heels and slowly begins to straighten up. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," Stella rolls her eyes, cheeks rounding with a soft smile even as another jolt of pain shoots through her leg. "I can stand. Ow."

"Sorry."

"I've been through worse," Forcing a short exhale out, her breath harsh, Stella slowly slips her arms out of Jake's warm hold and lets her palm come to rest atop Fizzy's head instead. Dropping a kiss to the dog's soft fur, she gazes over at the swing. "You think it holds for two?"

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Stella ungracefully snorts into her drink, laughter spilling off her tongue half a second later. Not her regular, light laugh but a guffaw: short and loud in its amusement, deep at the back of her throat. Like the noise a dolphin makes, only with a shortened capacity of breath.

Jake falls forward against his knees as he wheezes. "What was that sound?"

"I–I don't know," Stella makes an attempt of letting a circle of breath travel through her airways, collecting herself only to choke on a laugh—and the olive she just shoved into her mouth—as she speaks again. "That was you fault."

Still shaking with his laughter, wiping tears of mirth away from the corners of his brown—in this light near-black—eyes. "How is it my fault?"

"You're making me laugh! Stop it."

"Sorry–," Jake exhales, laughter still falling from his lips as he shoves a piece of watermelon into his mouth, speaking through the bite. "I'm sorry."

"Good. You should be,"

Spearing a leaf of baby-spinach onto her fork, Stella draws in a deep breath to quell the chortle still lingering on her tongue and gazes out at the lake with a wistful sigh. "When I grow up," She says with a small smile, shoving a bite of crumbling feta cheese into her mouth next. "I'm getting a house on the water."

"On the water?"

"Yes," She lets the nighttime air fill her lungs as she watches the light of the moon bounce off the water, creating ripples across its dark surface like stripes. "I want to wake up, open my patio doors and dive right in."

He nudges her fork away from the gigantic bowl of the watermelon-feta cheese salad they prepared together before leaving the house this afternoon with his own, fishing up an olive. "Maybe you should move to Acebridge."

"Maybe," Stella shifts in her seat, wincing ever so slightly as she bends her knee, and flickers her gaze to Fizzy who's fallen asleep by their feet. "Do you miss it?"

"A bit, yeah."

"Are you moving back?" She asks of the coastal town where he grew up. "Once you're done with school?"

"I don't know. It depends, I guess."

"On...?"

"The future."

"Oh," Stella's lips pull back in a wider smile. "That."

"I'll come visit you though, in your house on the water."

"Good," Stella spears a piece of melon and a few kidney beans onto her fork. "That way you can have a look at my olympic medals as well,"

Stuffing the food into her mouth, she shoots Jake a sideways glance, brows etching together as she notices his growing smile. It's not quite the smirk—nor grin—she's used to but it's just as bright, rounding his cheeks despite his defined features, a twitch to the lines by his mouth. Soft yet amused, reaching his eyes as he meets her gaze.

"What?" She asks, lowering her fork. "Do I have food on my face or something?"

"No," Jake shakes his head, a faint notch between his brows as they draw together. "Just... I've always liked that about you."

Curiosity tugs at Stella's lips at his sincere statement. "Liked what?"

"You've always known what you want. And you've never stopped working for it, that's admirable—I guess."

Stella snorts again, though this time it's a much more quiet sound. A softer sound. "Admirable?"

"It is," Jake insists. "A lot of people out there never even begin to chase their dreams. Who never truly do—or admit, even to themselves—what they truly want with their lives," He pauses, flickers his eyes to the scenery of nature before them before he lets his gaze turn back to her. "There's a lot of bravery in that, in taking that leap."

Stella shakes her head with a small smile, biting into another piece of watermelon. "I'm not brave."

"Yeah you are."

A beat of silence follows the three words, only confirming the building sensation in Stella's chest. They're not only talking about her penchant for swimming anymore.

Leaning back in her seat, she regards the serious set of Jake's jaw, his softened gaze as his eyes flicker over her features. A strange flutter spreads through her chest, pushing its way through a spring in her heart. Her heart, which rests underneath a hovering familiar heaviness. It reminds her of an ocean breeze: brisk, an awakening—seeping light into the darkness. Something pushing back against the tension usually beginning to consume her body as her mind's brought back to those memories. A glimpse of relief. No discomfort, simply something to sit with.

Still, instead of venturing further down that road, Stella clears her throat and asks. "What about you?"

Jake arches a brow, palms coming to rest behind him against the cold stone. "What about me?"

"Are you doing what you truly want with your life?" Stella loops her arms around her knees, hugging them tight. "Is that what law school is to you?"

He shrugs, a hint of the smile always seeming to rest on his lips creeping onto them as he ponders it over. "I'm still figuring out what I want. But I like where I'm at—with school, and my friends. Dropping out of internships, you know, those kind of things."

An amused breath tickles Stella's lips as she exhales, cheeks lifting with her smile as she lets her fingers close around her glass of lemonade. A damp circle paints the surface of stone in its wake. "Good," She says. "That's good."

"And I would love to come visit you in your house on the water. As well as have a look at your many olympic medals, of course."

Stella rests her lips against the rim of the cup, mouth pulling into an upward tilt. "Looking forward to it,"

Then, before she's even realized the words are balancing at the tip of her tongue, she speaks again. "You know, it's not always as great as it looks. Always keeping your eyes on the prize, pushing a little bit more to get there every day."

"How so?"

"I don't know... I just think, maybe, it's healthier to not chase our dreams like that. Always aiming to become stronger, sharper, better. Maybe we should all be a little bit more like—well, like you. Having fun. Figuring it out along the way."

"Do you regret it? The effort?"

"No," Stella shakes her, the word honest as it falls from her lips. "But it's different. Making that choice: the choice to make your sport your life. To put that work in. Everything comes back to that, every single detail of your life depends on that schedule. It's this thing that matters more than all the rest. And soon it all blurs together. And then that's all there is. Your safe place becomes your training area, your teammates become your closest friends; it's easier that way, they're the only ones you see anyways. Your coaches–," She stumbles on an inhale of air, struggling to push it back out. "They become the people you trust the most. Or is supposed to, at least. It's just a different way of leading life. But you know that, I'm guessing that's why you didn't make that choice—with football, I mean."

"A bit yeah."

"I like it: the work. But I guess what I'm saying is... ambition has its toll," Putting her lemonade back down, Stella shifts closer to Fizzy and lets her palm come to rest in the dog's soft golden fur. "Sometimes in more ways than one."

As soon as she's spoken the words, her heart drops deeper into her chest, the beat of it speeding up as Jake regards her, a light thrumming noise—accompanying that of the crickets in the night.

Fidgeting—crossing her arms over her chest only to uncross them again—she presses her lips together. A trail of goosebumps run up and down her arms, a chill prickling her skin even though warmth flushes her from within. Maybe she let the words fall too freely from her tongue.

Jake stays silent a moment more, his dark eyes searching hers, as if waiting for her to make the next move—to continue on or to swivel into an U-turn. When she doesn't say anything, he rubs a hand to the back of his neck and lets his gaze drop to her legs. "How's the knee?"

Stella's shoulders relax, the tension having overtaken them slowly fading. A faint string of relief touches upon her words as she lets her lips slip into a small, grateful, smile. "The knee's perfectly fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I already told you: you don't have to fuss over me."

Jake stretches his arms overhead, muscles pulled taut and flexing with the movement. "That's not what I'm doing."

"No?"

"I care about you Stells, is all."

Casting her eyes down to her sky-blue painted toenails, Stella's cheeks twitch with a more genuine smile. "I'm good. The knee's good. I promise."

"Good."

"Now," Pushing to her feet, Stella reaches her hands out for Jake—eager to let her mind drift somewhere else. "I propose we go for another swim."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Wrapping her palms around her goose-bumped arms, Stella gazes out at the lake. Another stray gust of wind pulls at her damp hair, having the errant strands fly in the air and flutter against her shoulders.

A shiver runs down her spine as a fresh chill arrives with the breeze, settling over the cove, and she inches forward on her knees—wincing slightly as her scrape-cut grazes the stone—to grab the nearest of their beach-totes.

Digging through it, she emerges with Jake's hoodie. UNC's three letters sprawled in a big font over its front and she lets her hold tighten around the soft, yet worn, fabric as she settles back into her seat upon their beach throw.

"I'm stealing this now."

Jake meets her sideways glance, tearing into a sugar donut. "Be my guest," His gaze lingers on her a moment longer as she slips into the sweater and smooths down the fabric with her palms. "Carolina blue looks good on you."

Stella presses her lips together with a small smile—warmth a splotch of rough on her cheeks as she lifts her hair out of the sweater's neck. "Thanks."

A beat of silence stretches between them as Jake turns his gaze back to the water, eyes tracing the edge of the lake. Faint moonlight dances upon its otherwise dark, calm surface, shadows of trees visible in the distance. Then, letting his finger draw a circle upon the gray beach throw, he lets a sigh-sounding exhale slips his lips.

"Stells?"

Reaching for a lone piece of watermelon left from their dinner hours earlier, Stella stills. "Yeah?"

Something wary—hesitance, concern and something else she cannot quite place—crosses Jake's features as he flickers his gaze back to her. There's no trace of the smile she's so familiar with as he rolls his lips together, considering her.

"What you said before? About ambition?"

Stella bites down on her lip, throat constricting as tension creeps into her chest. Her heart flutters against the walls keeping it safe, and for one brief moment she cannot decipher whether it's an act of anxiety or anticipation. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Yeah?"

"That wasn't on you. What happened–," Jake cuts himself off, leaving room for a faint—weak—sound at the base of his throat, clearing his voice. "I hope you know that."

Bringing her knees to her chest, Stella loops her arms around them as a puff of air, barely a breath, tickles her lips. Concern's etched into Jake's features. In the dark depths of his eyes, in the wrinkled lines of his skin: the ones usually amplifying a smile.

She's aware they're treading a line the two have yet to cross. An edge of a cliff they have yet to throw themselves over. And she knows her next words will inevitably open up a door to venture down that path.

But maybe, maybe, that wouldn't be too bad.

And so, truthfully, she says, "I do. I do know that."

Once, in the past, maybe she hadn't known that, not right away. At least she thinks so. She cannot be sure. Memories have a way of remolding themselves as one grows. Twisting, shaping, blurring as they become something more palpable to the person one is today. She guesses it's a blessing and a curse. Because somehow, the memories one wants to forget the most, seems to be the ones that never change.

She's momentarily brought out of her thoughts as Jake nods, faint relief relaxing the pouted purse of his lips. Letting her finger trace a pattern on her leg, she tries for a smile before angling her head back, eyes swiveling skyward to the starry darkness above.

She's about to brush it off, return to their bubble of laughter and smiles, but just as earlier tonight the words come to her so easily.

Here, against the backdrop of Fizzy's soft snoring and the crickets faint thrumming, there isn't a heavy beat to her heart. Her mind is as far from spinning it possibly could be. There's no question of the peace that comes to her here. By the water. With no one but Jake, Fizzy and the trees to listen.

And so, for the first time in a long time, she attempts to string her thoughts together. Let them turn into spoken words, into one—then several—coherent sentences.

Smoothing her palms over her legs, she rests her chin atop the flat of her knees. "It hits me sometimes," She begins, rolling her lips together—barely noticing the faint clench of her jaw as she searches for the right words. "... How nothing truly changed. I mean: it did. For me. Having to move back home, taking a step back. My friends. Things did change. But none of those that mattered, you know? And it just... sucks,"

Her lips absentmindedly pull into a small smile as she speaks the word Ms Flores, her therapist, had once told her she's absolutely allowed to use when thinking of what she's been through. No matter how vague the phrase may seem.

"Thinking about how my words weren't enough... It's... It–,"

"Sucks."

Stella's mouth lifts into a more prominent upward tilt, her smile feeling both misplaced and right simultaneously. "Yeah."

"I didn't mean to cut you off."

"That's okay,"

A beat of silence stretches through the night, tightening the air between them and as Stella speaks again her smile has begun to fade. Barely able to exhale through the tension having slowly creeped into her chest, now consuming her entire body, her voice comes out faint.

"You know... You never realize how much the truth matters until you're stood before someone telling you it isn't enough. That your words aren't enough. Someone telling you they don't believe you."

"I believe you,"

Stella turns her head to look at Jake—her exhale stumbling on a note of relief as she meets his gaze. He clenches his teeth, almost something apologetic to his eyes as he continues to speak. "I know that doesn't mean much, doesn't change anything. But for what it's worth, I do."

"You do?"

Jake's features softens in an instant, though there's something sharp lingering beneath his next words as well. "Of course I do."

"You're wrong."

"What?"

"It means a lot. To hear you say that. Even if I... knew, or assumed, already, I guess. It helps. Sometimes– Sometimes when I get too much in my own head, it's nice to have someone say that. To see they mean it. To not feel alone, I guess."

"I'll tell you that everyday if you need me to."

Stella's throat tightens as she nods. "Thank you,"

Flickering her gaze around the cove—over Fizzy sleeping soundly by their feet, over the dark shape of the swing over by the edge of the cliff, the water-splattered somewhat steep path leading down to the lake—she lets her lips slip into a small amused smile.

"I'm happy your internship didn't work out."

Jake exhales on a chortle, falling over his knees in a cross of a short laugh and a loud snort. "Yeah, me too," He says, resting his elbows on his thighs as his smile widens. "I've missed you Stells."

She shoots him a sideways glance as she jokes, "Me? Faye's annoying baby sister?"

"I've never thought of you as that," Jake's brows draw together. "Not even once."

"Well, that's one way to make me feel really bad for the copious things I've thought about you through the years."

She laughs—the sound light—as his palm comes to her shoulder, lightly shoving her. Then, scooting closer to Jake, she leans her head on his shoulder and lets her lips soften into a small genuine smile.

"I've missed you too."