Stella's first glimpse of Jake's hometown is one of a postcard come alive.

In an attempt to wake herself up, she bats her eyelashes—stifling a yawn as she squints at the bright light pouring through the toned windows of Jake's car, bathing the interior of the vehicle in a warm glow. She has no idea just how long they've been on the road, but there's no mistaking the coastal nature running along the highway.

Head leant against the back of her seat, she gazes out the window. To their right, the ocean stretches far and wide. Its deep blue surface glimmers underneath the blinding rays of sun, it seems to reach into infinity, with no end in sight. Or reach.

Stella's chest tightens with a strange flutter as she watches the waves roll over one another—big and small—before they crash violently onto the stone of the shore below, her lips widening into a smile.

Shifting in her seat, she stretches her arms before her in an attempt to soothe the damage from her less-than-ideal sleeping position. The movement is far from discreet and Jake catches her eye through the rearview mirror with a faint smile, a silent chortle leaving his lips as she lifts her hand in a small wave.

They left Blue Windflower Lake behind at daybreak. Weekender bags in hands, they'd stepped out onto the front porch and into a neighborhood enveloped in complete silence. A dewiness had clung to the foggy air, the scent of nighttime still strong as they'd spoken in hushed voices—as if afraid to awaken nature, watching the first few careful rays of light as they begun to peek out in the horizon.

Now, the ocean slips out of Stella's view. Taking a turn off the highway, they're soon surrounded by roundabouts and greenery of trees as a town materializes before her. An ice-hall towers behind a bus stop where a crowd of suntanned legs and colorful suitcases whirls around an awaiting coach.

A narrower street follows, with three-story houses in shades of beige and yellow lining the cobblestones. Bed & Breakfasts. Restaurants. Open-air-cafés bustling—glasses of rosé thrown around and laughter echoing so loud into the sky it even slips through the black exterior of the car.

A boardwalk runs along the street's opposite site, and behind it: a beach. Sand dunes stretching far and wide, sporting an image taken out of a travel magazine. Turkish beach throws strewn about. Colorful plastic buckets and shovels stood along rows of sandcastles. A group of friends taking up the beach volleyball court. Kids sprinting in and out of the waves as they wash onto the shore.

The town turns into a blur as they whiz through it. Away from the view of the ocean into quiet neighborhoods—nice-looking villas and trees lining the sidewalks. A bicycle haphazardly thrown aside on a lawn. A few houses down, a man kneels before his flowerbeds. Around the corner, a wide window's propped open, revealing a gathering behind the fluttering curtains. Party hats, confetti and a big chocolate cake.

A content sigh sounds from the passenger seat as they eventually come to a stop to the side of a road.

"Home sweet home."

Stella's eyes flicker from the majestic white two-story villa—a long gravel path lined by flowerbeds leading the way to its front door—to Avery. "You live here?"

Just then, Fizzy leaps to her feet and lets out a high-pitched yelp.

Wincing with a small laugh, Avery gets her door open. "Oh, no. Not me. Fiz does."

Following the other two, Stella steps out of car and is instantly hit with a salty warmth one only finds by the coast. Despite being out of view, and reach, the sea lingers in the stray gusts of wind—rustling crowns of trees and fluttering the fabric of her pink linen top.

Upon their arrival, the front door of the house swings open and reveals a young woman looking—in the very best possible way—as if she's stepped straight out of a Ralph Lauren catalogue. She shows no regard for her cream colored halter neck top as she falls into a crouch—arms and lips wide—as Fizzy bounds toward her.

Another row of happy barks echoes through the sky and Jake's cheek twitches with his smile. "And just like that, we ceased to exist."

The woman has barely had the chance to straighten up as she's almost tackled back down to the ground again—Avery having taken a leaf out of Fizzy's book. Her arms wrap tight around her friend in a hug.

"Come on," Jake cocks his head to his side. "Let's go say hi."

Gravel crunching underneath the soles of her sandals, Stella overhears Avery—who's still holding onto her friend, say, "Thank God you're home. From now on, you're never allowed to leave for long vacations ever again."

"You don't even live here anymore Ave."

"Still," Avery steps away, smoothing down the fabric of her white dress. "I don't like missing you Calliope."

"Should have thought about that before you left me here all alone," The other woman says—Calliope apparently—pulls her long ginger hair back, showcasing defined freckled collarbones before letting her eyes flicker sideways to where Jake's stood. Sucking her cheeks in, her lips slip into a softer smile. "Hello."

"Hey."

Stella casts her gaze to the gravel, drawing a circle with the toe of her sandal in the dirt, as the two fold their arms around one another, exchanging greetings along the lines of "everything good with you?" and "thank you for looking after her".

An audible breath leaves Calliope's lips as she steps away, turning to Stella. "And I guess I should thank you as well. Stella, right?" Extending her hand in greeting, she lets her lips form yet another blinding smile. "I'm Callie."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

A small, but rather impressive garden surrounds the Wilson residence. Beds of flowers in all colors weave through greenery, swaying in the faint ocean breeze even though—in this town—the house cannot be considered close to the coastline.

"I can't believe I've never been here before," Stella says, eyes gazing over her view as she leans back against the brick wall of the house. Blocks and blocks of neighborhoods separate them from the body of water, but from where she's stood atop the raised balcony of the house with Angelina by her side, Stella can glimpse the stark blue waves of the ocean in the far distance, seagulls circling through the air above it. "It's beautiful."

"I'm very glad you're here now,"

Angelina, still dressed in wide tailored trousers and a pair of heels from her day at work, sinks into the seat of one of two Adirondack chairs stood to their left. Peering up at Stella with a smile, her dark brown eyes so alike Jake's, she extends her hand—palm up. "Come sit with me,"

Obliging, Stella's lips slip into a soft smile as she lets Angelina lead her to the other chair.

"You look good," Angelina regards her, head slightly tilted to her side. "Happy."

Stella's cheeks round with a wider smile as an involuntary chortle escapes her. "I am. Good. Happy."

"I'm glad to hear that," Angelina squeezes her hand once. "I really, truly am. And I am so glad you're here! It's been far too long since we last saw you."

"It has," A third, deep, voice comes from the doorway as Geoffrey Wilson steps out onto the balcony, having overheard the end of his wife's sentence.

He extends Stella a tall glass of iced tea, an orange decorative umbrella resting against its edge. "Jake said this is what you'd want to drink, so if it's wrong: blame it on him."

Appearing on the balcony next, spinning a decorative umbrella—though his is pink—of his own between his fingers, Jake rolls his eyes and leans back against the dark wooden railing.

Angelina's eyes narrow as she considers him, manicured nails tapping against the glass of white wine now in her hand. "Have you gotten taller?"

Jake's lips twitch in faint amusement. "Wouldn't think so mom, no."

Sitting down at the dinner table stood across from them, Geoffrey repeats the statement of Angelina's previous words. "You know, it really is great to see you Stella. We're so happy you decided to come along."

Stella's barely had the chance to respond with a "thank you", not only for their kind words but for having given her the opportunity to spend her summer in Blue Windflower Lake in the first place, as Angelina a question.

"Are you two enjoying your stay at the lake house?"

"We are," Stella sips her drink, lips pulling into a smile as she realizes it's lemon-flavored, and glances at Jake. "Right?"

"When you're not cheating at Ludo, sure."

Stella's lips fall open with a puff of air. "There isn't even a way to cheat at Ludo!"

Jake slants his head, biting down at his lip with a smile. "And yet."

"You know what?" Stella lowers her glass, corners of her lips twitching dangerously. "I take it back, we're not having a nice time at the house—I almost died at the splashing cove. Not to speak of how I was almost ran over at the Farmers' market."

"I mean, that's more of a thing between you and your clumsiness, don't you think? Maybe you should add almost breaking your toe to that list while you're at it."

"Well, I wouldn't have stumbled into that threshold if you hadn't..."

Stella trails off but Jake's brows draw together, a crease appearing between his eyes as he asks, "If I hadn't what?"

"Nothing," Stella says against the rim of her glass. She waves her hand dismissively. "Forget about it."

Angelina exchanges a look with her husband. "It's nice to have the kids here, isn't it? Adds a little life to the house."

"It's definitely louder," Geoffrey agrees, amusement laced in his words. "So... certain experiences aside, you're having a nice time?"

Nodding, Stella's gaze flickers from Jake to his dad. "A great time."

"You know, if he becomes too much of an annoyance—you're absolutely free to kick him out."

"Geez. Thanks dad, really."

Stella's about to point out to Jake he once told her the very same thing. During their first day of their first week together at the lake house, sat across from one another at Lottie's, but she decides against it. Instead, crossing one leg over the other, she rests the bottom of her glass against the fabric of her denim skirt and lets her lips tug back into a smile.

"Don't worry. You're not going anywhere; I've gotten far too used to your cooking."

"So what you're saying is that you're only using me for my extraordinary culinary skills?"

"I thought that was obvious."

Holding her gaze a moment longer, Jake's smile widens and faint warmth lingers on Stella's cheeks as she goes back to sipping her iced tea, spinning the decorative umbrella between her fingers.

Next to her, Angelina dusts her free palm off on her trouser-leg and gets to her feet. "Well," She says to the other three. "What do you say? Should we continue on with the tour?"

━ ♡♡♡ ━

The next morning, Stella finds Jake sat—once again—out at the balcony, peering down at the screen of his phone.

Coffee cup in hand, she stifles a yawn and pads over to the chair across from him, dropping into a seat. Flickering her gaze sideways, she brings the cup to her lips and listens to the distant wails of the seagulls—watching the town awaken to life.

Jake sets his phone down, stretching his arms overhead with a small smile. "So."

Stella brings her knees to her chest, heels resting against the edge of her chair as she meets his gaze—mirroring his solemn stare. "So."

"What's your take on boats?"

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Lacing her fingers around Jake's elbow, his skin warm from the rays of sun beating down on them, Stella's lips tug into a smile.

"Jake."

He turns around at her gentle call for attention, eyes momentarily squeezing shut with a tired expression as she smudges a blob of thick white sunblock onto his nose.

Shaking his head, an amused sigh escapes his lips as a laugh spills out of her. "Real mature."

"I think so yeah," Stella squints at the strong sunlight, nose scrunching up with her ever-growing smile. "Cute."

Jake pulls at the strap of the bright-orange life vest she's wearing—courtesy of Rhea, Jake's friend and owner of the relatively big boat they're currently stood upon. "You too."

"Stella!" Matthew, another of Jake's friend and the fourth person on this boat, calls from where he's perched at the front of it. "I challenge you to a swim contest."

Jake clears his throat on a laugh, calling back. "You don't want to do that."

Zipping herself out of the vest, Stella carefully makes her way over the deck to where Matthew's stood, finding Jake's presence reassuring as he's at her heels. Ashore, today's heat had been thick and sticky. Sweltering: the breeze having seemed near nonexistent. Out here, anchored on open water, the wind blows their hair and prickles their skin.

Hands on her hips, she gazes in the same direction as Matthew as he points past Rhea—who's already in the water, floating on her back as she stares up at the clouds dotting the blue canvas of the sky above—to a faded yellow buoy bobbing on the surface of the mellow waves.

"You see that buoy over there?"

Stella nods once. "I do."

"First one there and back?"

Though her competitiveness has already taken the upper hand, itching to dive into the water, she feigns a stance of consideration. Pursing her lips in thought, she weighs back on her heels. "What do I win?"

Matthew lifts his hands in a small shrug. "Gloating rights?"

"And a jar of pickles, loser's paying," Jake adds and as Stella shoots him an amused glance, arching a brow, he simply smiles. "What? You love pickles."

A silent snort leaves Matthew as he regards the other two. "So, what do you say?"

"Let's swim."

Jake drops into a seat, leaning back in his arms. "Yeah, good luck Matt."

Stella shoots him a look, tired yet amused, as she walks over to take her stance from where she saw Rhea dive in earlier. Matthew does the same, having the beat of heart quicken as alarm flashes before her eyes. It's irrational, she knows it is. But stood here, the realization that she's about to disappear away with a man—a man she, truly, knows nothing about—dawning on her, there's a sudden clamminess to her palms.

Drawing a breath of air in through her nose, she exhales roughly—short and quick. Her gut tells her he's one of the good ones. The kind of person one's tired middle school teacher would depend on to keep the class together, look after everyone else. A nice person, through and through.

But her gut has been wrong before.

Again, she tells herself to snap out of it, attempting to shake the clamminess off her hands. Matthew and Stella aren't going to disappear anywhere. The buoy is in clear sight. And Jake's right here.

And Jake's got her, she knows he does.

Speaking of, Jake regards her now. He lifts his hand to shade his eyes from the sun, lips slightly parted. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Struggling with an exhale, Stella does her best to gather a breath through an inhale. "Count us down."

Jake watches her a moment longer before nodding. "Okay," Clearing his throat, he cups his palms around his mouth. "On your marks! Ready! Set! Go!"

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Condensed liquid runs between Stella's fingers as she clutches the ice-cold water bottle Jake handed her upon her climbing back onto the boat, watching as he reaches his arm out to Matthew, helping him up as well.

Jake grins as Matthew rolls over onto his back, arms splayed to this side as he chest rises and falls rapidly with his breath. "I tried to tell you not to."

"What the fuck was that?"

Letting out a faint laugh, still panting from the slight extortion herself, Stella pads across the deck. "Here," She says and hands Matthew the water bottle. "I'll get a new one."

He pops it into his mouth with a sigh of defeat. "Thanks."

Emerging from the cabin— a dark-green crewneck thrown over her bikini, Rhea raises her brows at Matthew's display of exhaustion. "That's what you get for challenging an olympic-swimmer-to-be to a swim contest."

Stella chokes on a sip of water—having fetched herself a new bottle. Letting out a dainty cough she shakes her head. "I wouldn't take it that far. With how out of shape I am, I'll be lucky if my own school wants me once fall comes around."

Something eerily similar to horror flickers over Matthew's features. "Out of shape?"

Jake rolls his eyes at his friend before turning his gaze to Stella. "They'll want you. They'd be idiots not to want you. Besides, you've already promised me a house-tour of your medals."

"Right, I did."

Matthew sits up. "I'm sorry but– olympic?"

Rhea grabs a bundled up shirt and throws it at her friend—her aim so far off it almost flies into the sea, saved by Jake at the last moment. 

"That's what you get for only ever paying attention while you're the topic of conversation," She says as if she didn't just miss her shot. Turning on her heel, she heaves a sigh. "Now, I got us sweets from With Sprinkles On Top so I propose we eat those. Who wants coffee?"

━ ♡♡♡ ━

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Stells," Amusement plays over Jake's lips as he peers up at her from where he's perched in a crouch at the back of the boat. "Are you worrying about me?"

"Of course I'm worrying about you," She narrows her eyes at the waterski placed under his feet. "That thing doesn't look safe at all."

He pats the front of his life vest. "I'll be fine."
From her place by the wheel, Rhea glances over her shoulder. "You ready?"

Jake rearranges his hold on the handle of the waterskiing rope. "Yeah."

"Be careful," Stella warns, pressing her lips together as she shifts into a crosslegged position on the wide leather seat. "Don't swallow any water."

"I'll try."

"Jake."

A soft chortle escapes Jake's lips as he flashes her a reassuring smile, easing himself into the water. "I'll be careful, I promise."

He motions to Matthew, who's sat in the seat next to where Rhea's stood, and then—Jake's next few words lost to the wind—a drizzle of saltwater sprays Stella in the face as Rhea expeditiously accelerates them into speed.

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Speaking through a mouthful of melted carrot cake, Stella flashes Jake a toothy smile as he sits down next to her.

"I want to do it too."

Droplets of water linger in his lashes and his brows, slowly trailing down the slope of his nose as his lips slip into that cross of a smirk and grin she recognizes so well. "I knew you'd come around,"

Stealing a piece of her cake, he lets his arm rest along the back of their seat. "You can go after Rhea. But first: dry-land practice."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

"What's that?" Stella eyes the rope Jake attaches to the ski she's stood upon. "You didn't use one of those."

"It's to help you," Jake says, arching a brow as she parts her lips to object. Faint amusement plays over his smile as he fixes her with a gaze. "It's this or not at all."

"Okay," Stella sighs. "Fine. I'll use the beginner thingy."

Getting into the position Jake has spent the past twenty or so minutes teaching her. Cannonball, he had called it. And as she'd told him it was a stupid name—almost as stupid as she'd felt practicing her stance on deck, he'd gotten into the habit of repeating the word every other minute. All while having carrot cake leftovers.

Now though, he doesn't bother her with the terminology, instead he places his hand atop both of hers where they hold onto the handle of the waterskiing rope. "You ready?"

In her head, Stella runs through all the steps Jake's taught her. Sensing a nervous flutter against her ribcage, she presses her lips together and nods. "I think so."

"One more thing?"

Drawing in a breath, Stella stumbles over her exhale—as if having forgotten she was holding air in her lungs in the first place. "What?"

"Don't forget to have fun."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

The first time she falls, the air is knocked out of her.

Crashing—back first—through the surface of the water with a blow, she's momentarily shaken but it soon crosses into irritation. She'd been too fast, having tried to pull herself out of the water despite it being exactly the opposite of what Jake told to her to do. Which is what she tells him as the boat circles back to fetch her.

Reaching into the water, his hand closes around her arm. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, had a gulp of involuntary water is all," She sighs. "It was my own fault, I didn't let the boat pull me out of the water."

"It happens. Just shake it off," Jake regards her as she closes her eyes and bats them open again. "Want to go again?"

"Yeah, let's go again."

She continues on the same way another few times, always reaching one step further before she falls, crashing through the surface of the cold water again and again; but then, on her fifth try: something clicks.

Waiting for the power of the boat to pull her out of the water, Stella speaks rapidly under her breath—mumbling all the steps Jake's taught her.

"You've got this," She says to herself.

Water is a living form and unless respected, it will show mercy for no one. It's all a game. A game of precision. A game favoring those with a sharp sense. A game of luck.

Because with water, if you're lucky—it'll recognize you. Favor you.

With Stella, it always has.

Her one constant. Her confidant. When she was young, the water taught her to carry herself. And then, later on, it's been the thing to carry her—to have her back—on days she has barely been able to carry herself. Through good days and bad, they've always been as one.

There's no reason today, a great day, should be any different.

Sensing herself rise, Stella attempts to let an exhale out her mouth and eases her tight hold on the rope ever so slightly. "Relax."

And then she's doing it. It's not perfect. But she's doing it.

A happy chortle tickles her lips as the faint waves smooths underneath the ski, underneath her weight—underneath her very small movement. Out of the corner of her eye she notices Jake, who's watching her intently, motion to the others and soon they up their speed.

Her hair whips against her shoulders in the wind as she puts her faith into instinct, lips in a wide smile as she flies across the waters.

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Caught between the high of the experience as well as wanting to let her sore legs give in and never ever get up again, a small exhale of relief leaves Stella as she's pulled back onto the boat by Jake.

He laughs softly as he catches sight of her beaming smile. "Fun?"

Eyes bright, cheeks flushed—Stella bites down on her lip in an attempt to quell her ever-growing smile, more or less bouncing on her tired feet. "I was on the water."

"Yeah. You were," Stood this close to her, the strong scent of Jake's sunblock is palpable—the familiarity of it comfortably enveloping her as he reaches out and gently brushes some errant strands of her hair away from where they stick to her wet skin.

The ghost of his featherlike touch lingers on her cheek as he grabs a striped towel hanging over the back of a nearby seat, holding it out for her as his smile grows. "Here."

Again, the air's knocked out of her.

Jake's lips always do seem to rest in a smile, as if they're always balancing on the edge of a grin but this—the way he's looking at her now—, this is something different entirely.

A warmth flutters through her, all the way from her toes to her head. It expands her chest, flushes her skin and quickens the beat of her heart as her own smile automatically widens.

She's never seen Jake look so... unguarded before.

Never so imperfectly beautiful, his smile reaching far beyond the upward tilt of his full lips. It lingers in his cheeks—defined features high and round. In the sparkle of his dark eyes. In the way the skin around them creases as his gaze holds hers. It's in the way he, in all his simplicity, seems to radiate a warm glow merely from being.

And for one short, flickering, moment, Stella's convinced she'd do anything: dance along a tightrope, stay on a trapeze for days on end, cross every mile of every body of water in this world in a butterfly-stroke—just to keep him looking at her like that for another few seconds. For the rest of her life.

The thought's barely flashed though her mind as she freezes. Oh.

Oh no.

Rolling her lips together, she takes the towel out of his hand and wraps it over her shoulders. "Thanks."

Quick to step away, she swiftly makes her way across the deck on her slippery feet. Skipping down the two-step stair into the cabin, she slips into her white sleeveless blouse and begins to work out the tangle the saltwater's made of her hair: putting her focus into anything other than the light tickle of a butterfly's wings beginning to take root in her gut.

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Loud laughter spills into the cool nighttime air before slowly dying out—stumbling on a few snorts and coughs from around the table—to make room for conversation yet again.

As Jake had proposed the idea of having dinner with another group of his friends, he'd seemed hesitant at first, as if afraid so many encounters in one day would overwhelm her. Maybe even send her running for the hills. But Stella's always loved being around other souls, has always thrived in a room of people. Or in this case, sat around a big, round table in Callie's backyard.

That's who she used to be. Before. And if this day—and night—has shown her anything, then that part of her, somewhere behind those walls she's built around her heart, is still there.

It's an oddly comforting knowledge to sit with.

Leaning back in her seat, she closes her palms around her cup of coffee and stifles a small yawn as she lets her gaze trail over Jake's friends. They've all been very welcoming, inviting her into their conversations as words and laughter has overlapped through the hours—the darkness of the night dawning on them.

There's Ethan, who'd stolen Jake away from Stella as soon as greetings were made, leaving her to fend for herself. Or not entirely by herself: she had Fizzy by her side.

Then there's Callie, sat at the head of the table with a glass of red wine in her hand. Lea—the short brunette with the infectious laugh—sits next to her. Then there's the blond: Luke, who's in the process of choosing a chocolate out of the box being passed around. Through the night, he's seemed to be moving in circles, never truly existing in the same orbit as the aforementioned girl.

Next to Luke, there's Nic, who'd been the first to offer Stella something to drink before dragging her—and the rest of them—on a tour through Callie's house. The dark beard seems to be a new addition to his appearance, considering the constant, yet somewhat playful, verbal remarks made of it by his friends.

And then there's Avery, stepping out the backdoor in the very same moment. Her shoulder-length blonde hair flutters in the faint breeze as she makes her way across the lawn, a chunky knit cardigan draped over her shoulders. She sets a big bowl of microwave popcorn down at the center of the table, gently brushing a hand over Callie's shoulder before—instead of taking her seat in the chair next to Stella—easily folds herself into Ethan's embrace as she sits down in his chair.

Intertwining their fingers in Avery's lap, they share small smiles as she sips some wine from his glass, their voices low—only a faint murmur—as they keep a conversation of their own to the side of the loud chatting happening around the rest of the table.

Without really noticing, the sleep beginning to seep into her brain, Stella's eyes fix on them.

It must be nice. To have someone like that.

Someone to get lost in, someone who—when you look at them—makes the rest of the world fade away.

Someone she's chosen, someone who's chosen her back. Someone, her someone, she may be able to slowly tear her walls down for. To trust with her heart. Someone to put her faith in, to lean on. Who'll do the same for her.

Pulling her legs up onto the cushion of her seat, she folds them to her side and lets her gaze drift sideways, to the man sat next to the couple. Her lips twitch into a hint of a smile against the rim of her coffee cup as she catches Jake's eye, his lips already in a smile mirroring hers.

Averting her stare to the dark liquid swimming around her cup, a splotch of warmth lingering on her cheeks, she presses her lips tightly together. Only to have them slip into another smile.

. . .

and then, along came acebridge! it's strange, really, how a fictional place I created from my own mind can feel so much like home but it does. it truly does.

hi my friends <3 I'll keep this short but I just wanted to take the opportunity to say thank you for the support you continue to show me while I try to write this little story of mine. it truly means a lot to hear your kind words, so thank you.

as always, much love.

yours, linn