Pausing—fingers laced around the edges of her woven bedroom curtains—, Stella takes her eyes off the dark night sky and throws a glance at her phone where it's propped up against a bottle of sunblock on the bureau.

"Tell me you're not still working,"

On the screen, Faye absentmindedly brushes a dark brown strand of hair having come loose from her annoyingly perfect messy bun away. She tucks it behind her ear, a notch of concentration between her brows as her gaze narrows at something off-screen.

In this moment, it's almost as if looking into a mirror. And while Faye's features are rounder, gentler and smoother—as if all that swimming has sharpened Stella, from her strong set of shoulders to her lean muscles, their resemblance is clear as day. The brown eyes and even darker hair, with the loose baby curls framing their faces. The small bump on the slope of their noses, though Stella's is dotted in sun-freckles compared to Faye's, who's fair skin has barely been sun kissed at all.

Pulling the curtains closed on the view of the lake bathed in darkness, Stella turns around all together.

"Faye?"

Sheets of paper rustling—the sound first having caught Stella's attention—comes through from Faye's end of the FaceTime call again, followed by the scribble of a pen.

"Hmm?" Her sister says, having Stella's lips curl into a small smile, though concern briefly flickers through her mind as well.

Glancing up, Faye notices Stella's eyes on her. "Oh. No– I just, had to check on something. Real quick."

Stella moves through the room, grabbing one of her cashmere sweaters where it lies discarded on her bed and pushes it into the top-drawer of her bureau. "Can't you do that tomorrow?"

"I'm done now," Faye raises her empty hands in surrender just as Stella slips into a too big white t-shirt. "Look, all done! I'm putting it away now."

"Completely away?"

"Yes. And in a while I'm going to watch an episode of New Girl and get to bed."

"Good."

Stood before the mirror, Stella separates her hair and braids it into two pigtails only to let out a frustrated sigh as they fall unevenly over her shoulders. A puff of minty breath comes along with it and tickles her nose before it dissipates, leaving room for the light scent of shea butter to linger in the air.

Taking her phone with her as she moves to the bed, the hours she's spent in the sun today begins to catch up to her, enveloping her in a comfortable tiredness now that she's surrounded by nothing but stillness.

She bats her eyelashes a few times, stifling a yawn as she falls onto her back and lets her head hang over the edge of the bed—pigtails falling toward the floor. The bureau is somewhat upside down in the corner of her eye as she holds her phone before her.

Sat against the backdrop of her light gray living room wallpaper, Faye seems to have conjured up a slice of toast out of nowhere. She bites into it, brushing some fallen crumbs off her faded—and battered beyond its worst days—Taylor Swift t-shirt. Once a loose fit on an eleven-year old girl, it's snug around Faye's curves.

Frown slipping back into place, Stella purses her lips. "Have you had dinner?"

Pointedly, Faye bites into her slice of toast, sending another wave of crumbs to her chest, and shoots Stella a look through the screen.

"Bread doesn't count."

"Says who?"

"Me," Sensing her blood rush to her head, leaving a faint dizziness to her mind and a few red blotches to her skin, Stella heaves herself back into a seat. "And probably every other sensible person out there."

"Are you saying I'm not sensible?"

"Hardly news."

Faye rolls her eyes, sticking her tongue out before circling back to one of their previous conversations. "So, everything's going well? Sharing the house with Jake?"

"Yeah, everything's great."

And it is.

They've fallen into quite a comfortable rhythm at the house. She still wakes up at the crack of dawn for her morning swims, though said swims have evolved slightly: less floating around on her back (she does enough of that as it is throughout the rest of the day) and more work.

The past few days she's begun to push herself to actually train during the mornings, using their small corner of the wide expanse of water to hone her skills. To remind her arms, legs and abs of what they once used to be able to do.

She has to arrive ready this fall. Maybe not at the top of her game, she knows she won't get there entirely on her own, but at least as close as she can come to it. She has already lost too much of herself these past couple of years; she's not going to allow this—what she has been working for her entire life—to helplessly slip through her fingers like grains of sand as well.

Once she's done swimming, she has breakfast. Sat at the shadowed patio with Fizzy by her side, their gazes lingering on the green leaves of the trees as they glimmer under the early morning sunlight, accompanied by the tune of enchanting—though occasionally high pitched—birdsong.

Around the hour Jake usually gets up to join them, she makes coffee. Black for him. Anything and everything to sweeten the somewhat bitter liquid for her.

And then, once they've spent another ten minutes or two hours—depending on the day—sat on the patio, they take Fizzy on her morning walk.

The rest of their days are a bit of a blur from there. Stella spends most of her time down by the water, all three of them do. Sometimes she'll exchange the warm wooden planks of the dock for one of the lounge chairs on the patio, biding her time flipping through a magazine or cloud gazing.

They move through fruit-flavored popsicles like one having come down with the flu would boxes of tissues, always fetching one for themselves and each other if—when—one of them finds their way past the freezer.

As they hit midday, Jake grows hungry. He's always the first to crave something—something that's not a popsicle—to eat, despite the fact Stella's usually been up at least a couple of hours longer than he has by that point. She claims it has to do with his poor breakfast habits, he claims he's simply wired that way. And so they have something to eat.

The other day they went back into town, bringing Fizzy with them as they biked to Lottie's for lunch. And though she agrees the heart shaped pancakes are worthy of the praise her sister showered them in, they have nothing on 'Lottie's Summer Salad'.

Stella would gladly spend the rest of her days cooped up in the quaint café if it meant she'd be granted an endless supply of those honey-covered melon bites, strawberries and pieces of chèvre.

Living with Jake is, in fact, great.

Sometimes she catches herself thinking of how it'd be if he'd never showed up. Sure, those days before she arrived at the lake house she had romanticized the idea of having a summer to herself. Of being on her own, with no one and nothing to interfere with her own ventures. But Stella's always thrived best surrounded by others.

Her family, her teammates, her friends.

She's quite certain that if Jake hadn't been here she would have found herself bored out of her mind by now. Lonely, even.

Maybe she would have been contemplating leaving the lake house behind, despite its proximity to the water, to go back home. Or endlessly beg Faye to come join her.

"Though," She says to her sister now. "I'm pretty sure I'm far from his favorite person at the moment."

Faye pauses mid-bite, frowning. "What did you do?"

"He was the one who wanted to play Mario Kart."

"Ah, so you wounded his pride then."

"Yeah."

"Just so we're clear: You beat him at Mario Kart, yes?"

Stella leans back against the bed's white headboard. "Yes."

"Well, good. Or else I'd have to disown you."

"Thrice by the way."

"Out of how many rounds?"

"Three."

"I am so proud of you right now."

Lips slipping into a small smile, Stella folds her legs into a cross legged seat. "I think I made it up to him though. With our Phineas and Ferb marathon."

"Phineas and Ferb? Really?"

"Well we were talking about that one episode! With all the songs you know? Anyways, somehow we came to talk about the song they sing in the hair-salon in that episode. You know?"

Amusement dances over Faye's lips, tugging at her corners as faint disbelief crosses her features. "No, I don't."

"You do," Stella hums, drawing a circle with her finger atop her floral sheets. "It the one where they're getting the band back together."

"That sounds like an episode of Friends."

"Well it's not."

"I—sincerely—have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, naturally: Jake and I had to watch it."

Faye humors Stella's enthusiasm. "Naturally. Hence you being up this late."

"Exactly," Stella pulls her comforter over herself, speaking through another yawn. "And you admitting you know just how late it is means you know you should've put work away hours ago. Preferably when you left the office."

"I've put it away now!"

"Uh-huh. So why does your eyes keep drifting to the side of the screen? And don't you blame it on barely being squint-eyed; I can tell the difference."

"I'm only trying to decide on what episode to watch," Faye says, bringing her laptop into view to show Stella the New Girl display. "Really."

"The one where Prince is a guest star is always a classic."

"Of course you'd say that. I don't know—I was thinking I'll choose one referencing Taylor," Faye's gaze flickers to the blonde adorning her t-shirt. "Or wait, maybe the one where she's onscreen for like two seconds."

"Of course," Stella brings her knees to her chest, looping her arms around them. "All great choices. You have impeccable taste."

"I know. Thanks."

"Must run in the family."

"Humility too," Faye says, flashing a toothy smile as she manages to pull a small laugh out of Stella. "You seem to be in a good mood."

Stifling yet another yawn, Stella rubs at her eyes. "I am."

She's had a good day.

A good week.

Two good weeks.

She never does grow bored from the stillness of this place anymore, if anything she enjoys those small quiet moments in between the rest. This place is good for her, exactly like they had all said it would be. The warmth. The water. The swimming. Having glanced at her own reflection in the mirror this morning, thinking she looked pretty even with the sleep creases having adorned her cheek. Happiness. She's happy here.

Faye's smile softens, and her tone of voice follows. "I should let you get to bed."

"I can stay up."

"I know. But I also know no matter how late you're up, your eyes will fly open by their own accord at five in the morning; and then I'll feel bad I kept you up."

"Okay. Fine," Stella changes phone-holding hand, resting her chin on the flat of her knees as she bats away the sleep beginning to creep over her.

Stalling, she's not quite ready to hang up on her sister yet. Sure, she is happy here, but she finds herself missing Faye at the oddest of times—which is why she called her in the first place.

"Did you choose an episode to watch yet?"

Her sister shoots her a look, raising her brows. No, of course she hasn't.

While an unstoppable force when taking on the big stuff—the important stuff, the hustle—, when it comes to the smaller things, Faye cannot ever make up her mind.

When asked about her favorite novel, Faye will list at least five while continuing to change her mind. She has never truly given Stella, or anyone, an answer to said question.

Usually, she uses an internet-driven generator to choose what movie, or tv-show, to watch next.

If Stella had a penny for every time she's trailed behind her sister from block to block, stood by her side regarding menus—only to have Faye shake her head and continue on before they eventually end up at one of the first three restaurants they looked at an hour earlier—she'd be rich of a modest fortune by now.

She has always let Faye carry on with her ways though, only intervening when it's clear her sister wants her to. They work like that; Faye brushes Stella's hair on the days she cannot gather enough energy to do it herself, she holds her hand on the days she needs it the most and leaves her with room to breathe on the days she doesn't.

In return, Stella carries a fruit or a chocolate bar along with them while out and about in case Faye grows hangry, she lets Faye hold her hand even on days when she doesn't quite need it—because some days it's obvious Faye does. And occasionally, she calls the shots on decisions Faye cannot seem to make on her own.

Though her sister would never purposely let her bravado waver for the world to see, Stella can tell this is one of those days. The purse of Faye's lips, her sucked in cheeks, the notch deepening between her brows—the defeat is splayed across her features. She's tired, and not only because of this one thing.

"Season two," Stella's eyes flicker to the faded print of her sister's t-shirt. "You know which one; seeing her face will make you happy."

Faye's lips tug back into a small smile. "Thanks."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

The gray wallpaper disappears out of view as Faye shifts in her seat, and Stella can hear the muffled sound of the episode having begun to play on her sister's end of the call.

"Do so. Sweet dreams Stellie-tubbies."

. . .

hi hello my friends! i hope everything is well <3

this was originally planned to be part of a bigger chapter but I thought it'd be nice to let it stay this way instead. it's the least I can do for Stella and Faye.

just wanted to say thank you, to each and every one of you for your support so far. taking on the quest of writing a novel is always both exhilarating and frightening simultaneously and especially so when I loved writing the previous one so much (it can get a bit nerve-racking). and so, I truly do appreciate your kindness so very much, it's a nice nudge while I'm trying to do my imagination justice on the page.

I'll see you with the next chapter in a few days.

much love, always yours

linn