Natasha Conklin was a stargirl, her demeanor like moonlight in a quiet garden. Even when she cried, stars fell from her eyes, passionate and glowing, burning into her like a branding. She was a mess of a twisted chaos, and you could see it in her solitude. She was all sorts of 'stop and stare', people turning back just to get another glance at the walking dream. A star, beautiful to look at, but impossible to catch, because nobody had the opportunity of saying that they even got close enough to touch her. Her mouth was full of unspoken promises and her lips were glossed with the salty tears of traumatic heartbreaks. And maybe that's why she was untouchable, immeasurable amounts of uncertainty and fear drowning her desire to be cherished, like one cherishes the sweet flavour of peaches in the summertime.

          And very much unlike Natasha Conklin, Cousins hadn't changed a single bit since last summer. It has always been a pure euphoria, and the mocking girl, in her sundresses and cherry bikinis, never got bored of it. Similar to how she never got bored of the same boy her heart ached for, the same boy she forbade herself from getting emotionally attached to, because she knew that if by fate or by chance, she ever did, he would slit her soul up like a razor, handing her back the broken fragments as if to say, "You made this mess."

          But for now, feelings aside, Natasha Conklin learned to plant her own gardens, decorating her own soul instead of waiting around for the boy to bring her flowers. Wanting him to treat her badly because at least he'll treat her at all. It was a moon song for the stargirl, wretched and deafening. But sitting around the dinner table, laughing at fond memories silenced that sickening, everlasting melody.

          "When are you leaving for camp?" Conrad Fisher's face, which once displayed a bright smile, immediately dropped at this question, and he looked down at his plate, like a guilty dog awaiting screams of disappointment and punishment. Natasha Conklin knew that football was a touchy subject for Conrad, especially after his father left. And she should have known that the nauseating sensation of undying sorrow would always return, haunting her like a ghost who took pride in her hurt. "He quit football." Natasha turned to Jeremiah who spoke for his brother, as if the expression on Conrad's face didn't say enough.

          "You really quit?" Natasha inquired, her eyes widening by the second as she patiently awaited for Conrad to give her any type of response. Conrad nodded, and his eyes finally met hers, who stared at him in empathetic shock from across the dining table. "Are you kidding me? No, Connie, there's always time to change your mind." But to this, Conrad responded harshly, shutting down the idea and leaving Natasha silent.

          "If you're not playing football anymore, what are you going to do all summer?" Laurel asked, and Conrad shrugged, and looked back at Natasha who was playing with her food, tossing it lightly from one side of her plate to another. Her hair fell in front of her face as her fingers held onto her fork, aureate rings clicking softly against the cool metal.

          "Dude, you can work at the club. I'm lifeguarding and Steven's working at the snack shop." Steven's eyes lit up at the idea and Jeremiah nodding enthusiastically, the two attempting to brighten the sullen mood. But once again, Conrad shut down the idea, not even bothering to look the two in their eyes as he did.

          "Oh, girls, I almost forgot." Susannah drew the girls' attention to her by pulling out small ticket-like sheets of paper, trying to cover up the uneasiness that had settled amongst those sitting around the table. "I have a surprise for you. I wrangled you both an invitation to be debutantes. It's when a girl comes of age and is presented to society." Belly threw her a sour look, in a more confused than disrespectful way, but it was enough for Susannah to continue explaining. "I know it sounds silly, but I swear it's fun. Girls come from all over New England and Cousins just to be a part of it. You'll make so many new friends."

          Laurel protested, giving plentiful reasons as to why it was completely out of the question for her daughters to participate in a ball of any sort. "It's when a girl has a coming out, it's a formal recognition she's reached maturity." Susannah continuously tried to win over her best friend's opinion, but Natasha cut off their conversation by stating that she would consider engaging in an event as foolish as a debutante ball, and added a haste goodbye as she stood up, muttering something about going swimming before leaving the dining room and putting her plate in the sink. Conrad tailed after her shortly after, and he was soon followed by the remaining people, who began their daily post-dinner clean up.

✿

          Conrad sat by the water's edge, smoking a Marlboro cigarette as the stargirl made slow laps from one side of the pool to the other, slowing after her fourth lap to swim back towards him, lifting herself up and out of the pool to sit next to him. She held out her hand, motioning for Conrad to pass her his cigarette, and the boy smiled softly, handing it to her as well as wrapping a towel around her wet shoulders. He moved her hair to the side of her face before braiding it, loosely but neatly, just as Natasha had taught him when they were merely ten. Conrad has been carrying a hair tie on his wrist ever since.

          And these were the hot summer nights that Natasha Conklin craved. The sunlight seeping into the horizon like a cherry on a white blouse, another night spent with crimson stained lips and swallowing peach pits. But, summer would soon dissolve into her mouth, like honey and rage, and the brunette knew that it was so cruel of her to be so optimistic, but in her solitude, she couldn't resist the urge to bask in idiotic fantasies, verging on prayer.

          "We should go get ready for the bonfire." Natasha placed the cigarette between her lips one last time before pushing herself to her feet, waiting for Conrad to do the same and dry his feet. He took the cigarette from her lips and discarded it hastily before heading back inside the beach house through the back door. And in the emptiness of her bedroom, Natasha was left alone with the sole company of her childlike rage. She could dare to call it domestic, one she had picked up from her now absent father as he had spent what could be categorized as 'too much time' with his eldest daughter when she was still a growing girl.

          Natasha washed the chlorine from her body and walked over to the clothing rack Conrad had helped her build two summers ago. She had been scrolling on Pinterest for far too long that day and impulsively ordered a medium-sized rack off of Amazon. Tasha shifted through the hanging clothes, picking out a simple, black strapless dress and walking over to the full length mirror that leaned against her wall, holding it up to her body as she tilted her head to the side, imagining how it would look.

          It was at that moment that a knock sounded on her door, and the girl turned her head slightly in the direction of the sound. She heard Conrad Fisher's voice call to her, and responded quickly before turning back to examine the dress in her hands. Conrad came up behind her, looking at her through the mirror and Tasha could feel his breath hitch, heartbeat quickening suddenly as his eyes trailed down her figure. She concealed her smile with a question. "What do you think? Should I wear something with a little more color?"

          "Is that supposed to be a dress?" His voice came out strangled, and he cleared his throat before stepping back slightly, allowing Natasha to walk back to the clothing rack, rapidly shuffling through the rest of her clothes. "What else would it be, Connie?" She said this rather sarcastically, turning to face him, an idea suddenly coming to mind. "It would look so cute with pearls and white shoes." The girl disappeared into her walk-in closet, taking a minute to change into the dress before stepping out, enjoying the expression on Conrad's face as she twirled around balletically.

          "You're not wearing that." And Natasha paused briefly, looking over at where he was sitting on the edge of her bed. She scoffed, taking a seat on her vanity chair, rummaging through the variety of items that were strewn across its surface; Dior blush, Glossier lip gloss, a hair clip. She picked up a hair brush, gently running it through her hair. "And who are you to tell me what I can and can't wear?" She did a once over of her face, re-applying a nude shade lip liner, her finger smudging the dark line to blend it into her lips, softening the boldness of the color before she coated it with a clear lip gloss. She clasped a pearl necklace around her neck, which was already adorned with a multitude of dainty gold necklaces, her finger drifting to arrange them so they would sit neatly.

          "That is not a dress." Conrad stood up, trailing behind Tasha as she reached for her shoes, putting them on before walking to the door, indicating that she was in no mood to continue the conversation. He stopped her from turning the handle, and Natasha playfully put on an offended expression, but when she realized that he wasn't amused, her face dropped, confusion taking its place. "Calvin Klein says it is." She shrugged, but could feel saliva coating her mouth as she became increasingly conscious of how close the two were to each other, chests almost touching as Conrad's dark eyes captivated her.

          "You're going to get a cold." Conrad too must have realized the proximity and stepped back slightly, continuing to keep his eyes on the girl as she did the same, her soft, upward gaze trying to read his angelic face. A sudden boldness overtook her, and she smiled at him sweetly, innocently. "Then bring me a jacket, Connie." Natasha forced open the door, walking out briskly, a stunned Conrad looking after her. This was going to be one hell of a bonfire.