"Bumbershoot? What the hell is a bumbershoot?"

Jake looks up from where he's re-stocking the rack before him, carefully placing seven new tiles upon it. He glances pointedly out the sliding doors. "An umbrella,"

Chin pressed against the flat of her knees, Stella follows his gaze.

The rain is relentless.

Pouring, it comes down against the stone of the patio like a thousand tiny pieces of gravel. The wind's picked back up, rustling the crowns of the few trees in the garden as they sway back and forth in a blur of saturated green. The rotary drying rack whines with every breeze. Drenched, Stella's striped beach towel hangs heavy over one of the lines – it almost looks sad, abandoned, out there.

"It's also the name of a music and arts festival," Jake supplies without taking his eyes off the score-pad. "Heard it's supposed to be fun."

"Names aren't allowed."

"I said also."

"Well," Stella lets her palms come to rest over her feet, the pink fuzzy socks soft underneath her touch. "Bumbershoot is not a word."

"Feel free to look it up,"

Eyes narrowing, she surveys the scrabble board where it lies between them on the coffee table. Words such as POUR, GRAY and CLOUD take up space among the rest; she's beginning to sense a pattern here.

Reaching for the dictionary, she quickly thumbs through it, index finger pausing over the page she's looking for. Her mouth sours into a tight line, quelling the exasperated sigh building in her chest. She's going to lose. She hates losing.

She's about to slam the heavy book shut again but Jake holds up a finger to stop her.

"Well?" He prompts, kicking his legs up on the armrest of the couch. Feigning an innocent smile, he bats his eyelashes, but she doesn't miss the hint of smugness in the twitch of his lips. She could use a bumbershoot to hit him with in the head right about now. "What does it say?"

Shooting him a glare, she flickers her gaze back to the word her index finger hovers over. "Bumbershoot. Noun. An umbrella: a device you hold to protect yourself from the rain."

"So," Jake chimes, clapping his hands together. "That's – wait, is this square a double as well? Twenty-four points for me then."

"You used all seven tiles," Stella mumbles begrudgingly, taking her cup of tea into her hands, letting it warm her palms. "That's another fifty points."

"Oh," Jake happily scribbles it down. "You were right, Scrabble is fun."

Stella's positively steaming worse than her tea. "We're playing Ludo after this."

"Come on, we can't just stop after two rounds."

"We can. And we will."

Jake nods to the board. "You're up, you know."

Stella sets her cup down on the rug, scowling at the low score the next word she lays out grants her. STORM. "There,"

She flickers her eyes between her tile of letters and the board–she's definitely losing. "Now hurry up so we can be done with this goddamn game already."

"We're playing another round."

"I won the last one. You're winning this one. That's enough."

"Ever heard of the phrase 'best out of three'?"

A disgruntled noise leaves Stella's lips. The past hour, she's come to realize she was wrong this morning; Scrabble isn't all that fun. In fact, she hates Scrabble.

What kind of word is bumbershoot anyways?

"Nope."

Jake clicks his tongue. "Such a sore loser," He glances up from having laid out yet another high-scoring word, meeting her resolute gaze. "Fine, Ludo next."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

"What are you about to do?"

Popping a grape into her mouth, Stella raises her brows at Jake's accusatory tone. "What do you mean?"

"You think you're winning. I saw it."

"You saw it?"

"It's this thing you do."

Stella's lips curl up, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "What thing?"

"I'm not going to give away your tell."

"I don't have a tell." Stella folds her legs underneath her, reaching for the dices. Throwing them, she internally reprimands herself as they come up short. She'd let her focus falter.

"You do," Jake says, an upward tilt to his mouth. "Always have."

"Okay, so then–" She cuts herself off, the words balancing on the tip of her tongue forgotten as a strong gust of wind whirls past outside – an audible thwack echoing through the house as a branch of a tree collides with another.

The flames of the tea lights flicker where they're stood on the table, casting a honey-yellow glow over the Ludo-board. Shuddering, Stella wraps her hands around her goose bumped arms.

The first crack of lightning had split the sky late the previous evening, leaving a night of thundering claps, rain-prickled windowpanes and muddy lawns in its wake. Needless to say, she had skipped out on her swim this morning.

Drawing a circle on the rug she's sat upon, she turns her gaze away from the dark clouds hovering over town and regards Jake. "It's in the way I purse my lips, isn't it?"

"No."

"Well then what is it?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Jake takes hold of the dices, throwing them so haphazardly it should be considered a crime. Even more so when they land exactly as he wishes them to.

Stella's lips part with a puff of air as he laughs: a short, loud and victorious sound. Here she's been whispering sweet words to the dices all through the game and yet they turn on her when she needs them most.

"You," He says, picking up one of Stella's two remaining red tokens. "Will be starting over."

"Not fair."

Jake shrugs. "Life rarely is."

"I hate you."

"I can live with that."

A cross of an amused sigh and a chortled breath escapes her at the words. Chucking a grape his way, she can't help the way her cheeks tighten with a smile, mirroring the grin on Jake's lips – infectious as always.

"God," He shakes the grape out of the neck of his knit sweater, chucking it back at her. "No need to resort to violence."

As if wanting to make sure their argument is all fun and play, Fizzy—having awoken from her slumber by the foot of the stairs—stretches in, quite literally, downward-facing dog before padding over to them, tail wagging carefully.

She nudges Jake's palm before rounding the coffee table, having Stella laugh as she nudges her nose to her face, breath tickling her cheek.

"Hi," Stella says softly, rubbing the dog behind her ears. "Thanks for checking up on me. Boys, am I right?"

Out of the corner of her eye she notices Jake rolling his eyes, but his smile has softened as well.

Seeming to consider herself done with her job, Fizzy drops to the floor with a content sigh. She lifts her head, using Stella's lap as a pillow.

Stella reaches out for the dices where they lie on the board, careful not to nudge Fizzy away, and clings to them like a child would their favorite toy. Come on. She holds her breath in anticipation as she throws them, lips pressed together as she watches them land on the board.

Her arms shoot up in victory as they grant her exactly what she hoped for. "Yes!"

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she lets her lips rest in a triumphant smile; she's going to win.

━ ♡♡♡ ━

The rain paints the pavement black.

Sidestepping puddles, Stella watches the downpour– it's gentler now, a blur of drops melting into the ground. The whiff of summer rain fills the air: flowery, as when the trees first bloom in spring but in a deeper, earthier sense. It reminds her of the lake, yet different.

Fizzy leaps for their house as soon as they're close enough and Stella follows suit, beelining for the front door. Only Jake lingers behind.

Blowing air into her stiff hands, Stella quickly shrugs out of Jake's windbreaker. She wraps her hands around her arms, rubbing at her goose bumped skin. Maybe braving the rain to take Fizzy out on a walk had been a foolish quest; as soaked through to the bone as the other two, even the dog seems to think so. Throughout the walk she'd let her tail hang miserably, mood only picking up once they arrived back at their street. The dog's curled up on her blanket by the staircase now, hazel eyes glaring daggers at the—albeit decreasing—storm outside the window.

It isn't until a stray gust of wind slips into the house, pulling at her hair—having the errant brown strands whip her in the forehead—that Stella realizes the door is still wide open, letting all the warmth spill out.

Whirling around, she finds Jake stood on the threshold, staring out at the rain.

"Close the door! Jake!"

Startled, he turns around. "What?"

"The door!"

Realization dawns over his features. "Sorry," He says, letting it fall shut behind him as he steps inside, rolling up the sleeves of his knit-sweater. "Reminds me of home is all."

Stella raises her brows, not sure what to make of that. She's never actually been to Acebridge, North Carolina—though Faye once described it as dreamy—but if she had been the one to grow up in a quaint coastal town straight out of a romance novel, she's pretty sure rain would be the last thing she'd remember it by. Then again, what does she know?

Dusting her palms off on her denim culottes, she crosses the room into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

Jake trails behind her. "I'm hungry," He says, yanking the doors to the refrigerator and freezer open. "Are you hungry?"

Turning around, Stella leans against the counter. "A bit yeah."

"What about grilled cheese?"

Her stomach responds in a desperate growl – charming – before she has the chance to utter a word. She takes another sip of her water, reaching her hand out for the loaf of bread Jake seems to have conjured up out of nowhere.

"Here, I'll make it."

"Why can't I make it?"

"Because I happen to make the best grilled cheese there is," She says, already setting up her preparations on the counter. She gathers her wind-tossed hair into a bun. "You'll want to let me do this."

A hint of amusement dances over Jake's smile. He lifts his hands in surrender. "What can I do to help?"

"Stay out of my way."

Jake rolls his eyes, perching in a seat atop the kitchen island. "Just sit here and look pretty?"

"Exactly," Stella glances over her shoulder to flash him a smile but it fades as she notices the bottle of orange juice lifted to his lips. "What– Who– Why would you–," She aims a kick at his leg. "Get your germs away from that right this second."

"I wanted juice."

"Is there something wrong with using a glass?"

"You're blocking the cupboard."

"Could've asked."

"Told me not to bother you."

She shoots him a pointed look, taking a glass out of the cupboard. "Here. Use it."

A total of three minutes go unspoken between them before Jake clears his throat. "How long are you going to wrestle that jar until you admit you shooed me away too quickly?"

Stella presses her lips together, a notch between her brows as she focuses all her strength on the jar of mayonnaise held in the tight grip of her hands. She's a swimmer for heaven's sake, she's supposed to be stronger than this. "I've got it."

"Let me try."

Reluctantly, she hands Jake the jar. The lid comes off with a pop.

"Show off," She mutters, shaking off the ache lingering in her wrists. Then, with a small smile, she takes it out of his hand. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

"Remember how we always used to make these when getting back from The Bay in the middle of the night?"

Stella speaks through a mouthful of melted cheese as she asks, "The Bay? What bay?"

"The Bay. By the old boating shed?" Jake raises his brows as Stella's expression remains impassive. "Just a stone's throw away from the pier?"

Setting her sandwich down, Stella wipes her fingers on a paper-napkin. "Blue Windflower Lake has a pier?"

From the look on Jake's face one would think she just suggested that, actually, the earth is as flat as a crepe and—with enough devotion—if they mobilized, ants all over the world could overthrow the human population and build an empire upon it.

She smooths a palm over her sleeveless white blouse. "That was a genuine question."

Jake's regards her dubiously. "You've never been to The Bay?"

"No. Wait," She folds her arms over the tabletop. "It's the party place, isn't it? Where teenagers drink cheap beer and live out their coming-of-age movie dreams?"

He snorts, biting into his sandwich. "See? You've been."

"Nope."

She vaguely remembers the nights he's referring to from the weeks she did spend in this house during previous summers. Faye and Jake used to stumble through the door in the dead of night – or early morning –, hissing to one another to keep quiet and she'd pad down the stairs, joining them in the kitchen where they delved into their grilled cheese sandwiches. Even if she would have wanted to join them at the infamous bay, she can't have been older than fourteen back then—Faye would never have let her.

"And the pier? You must at least have been to the pier – it's the most family friendly place in this town."

"If the lawyer thing doesn't work out, you could always make a career writing brochures."

"You've never been to the pier?"

"Not that I can remember."

"The splashing cove?"

"What's that?"

Jake considers her for a beat. "You don't know this town at all,"

Well, duh. Somehow it seems everyone besides her has forgotten she's barely spent any time here at all, especially not in her later years of life.

"Okay," Jake stabs a finger down on the table. "That settles it. I'm going to show you everything Blue Windflower Lake has to offer."

"What? Daisy Avenue and Blossom Street? I've seen it."

He rolls his eyes but lets the remark pass. "Were you planning on staying by the dock the entire summer?

"Well, kind of. Yeah."

"Stells," He prompts, though unnecessarily—she's already on board. It'll be nice with a change of pace and she always has envied her family for having a second home in this town, it's time she joins the club. "Come on, let me be your personal tour guide."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," She sinks back in her seat, drawing her knees to her chest. "On one condition though."

"Lay it on me."

"No pizza."

Jake's lips quirk up, a faint notch between his brows as they knit together in a cross of surprise and amusement. He nods once. "No pizza, got it."

She nods as well, picking up her sandwich again.

"Stella and Jake's epic summer adventure," Jake muses, then slants his head to the side – lips pursing in thought. "Jake and Stella's epic summer adventure?"

Casting her eyes down, Stella's cheeks tighten with a small smile. "Just eat."