Thomas throws the stick into the sea. For the third time, Mango runs after it. Then she returns it to Thomas, shaking the wetness off her body, onto us.

"What're we doing with Thanksgiving?" I ask.

He throws the stick again. "I don't know. Probably the tradition. Eating some dinner together, saying what we're thankful for. Laugh at whatever Minho says."

Not a single year, he has replied seriously. By the time he was three, he understood the meaning of Thanksgiving decent enough to say what he was thankful for. The word he came up with was 'poop'. He was thankful for poop.

Then it was car toys for at least three years. I don't have much memory of what it was after that. At fourteen, he said the one hair he had grown on his chest. At fifteen it was girls, wow. Sixteen the TV. I don't know what it'll be this year. He better say Evie or something.

Every year, I repeat the same things. 'I am thankful for my family because I love them all, I am thankful for Willow because we give him a nice home, and I am thankful for Steph because he makes my life a lot of times better.'

And then Thomas says, 'I am thankful for my family because I'd be completely alone without them, I am thankful for Mango because she makes me happy, and I am thankful for Sage because she makes my life a lot of times better.'

I nod. "Alright."

We stop walking so I can throw the stick in the sea for Mango. As she runs after it, I stick my hands back in my pockets. The wind will forever be cold here as long as it's not summer, and the water will always be cold.

"Wanna go back?" He asks.

"Yeah."

Thomas calls for his dog and attaches her to the leash. Mango in fact doesn't agree to it, and tries to run off. Unfortunately for her, it's too late. She does pull hard enough for Thomas to jerk forward a step, suddenly very close to me.

I look up at him. His hair is a mess because of the wind. He has to squint his eyes a bit to look at me. I tied my hair up in a bun a while ago, knowing about the wind. Yet some strands have escaped and are now flying around.

He moves a strand out of my face, so slow and carefully that his hand lingers on my cheek for a few seconds.

This is a good moment to just lean in and do it.

But I wait for a few seconds. If I mess up, there's no going back. And I have never actually kissed someone before— not like a kiss kiss.

Then he starts leaning closer, too. Just a little bit. Just slowly tilting his head to the side and taking tiny steps forward.

I feel his hand slide around my waist. That's it. That must be—

Ow.

I'm not sure what just happened but something wrapped around my legs and pulled me straight off the ground. I landed flat on my back, in the water. But it's not deep at all, so I feel every inch of the surface below me.

And to catch myself, I tried to hold onto to Thomas. All I did was pull him with me.

"I think that was Mango," I murmur. She must've ran around my legs with the leash.

Jeez, it's cold, though. Thomas is half on top of me and my clothes are already soaked from the water. A higher wave splashes onto us, also wetting the front of my body and the back of his.

We lie there for a while, shocked. More waves lap over us. My face is damp, the icy water burning on the top layer off my skin, but all I can really think of is the way Thomas is pressed against me. The wind bites at my skin. The warmth of his body helps with that.

He props himself up on his elbows, but only a little bit. Our faces are still inches away. He moves a strand out of my face again. This time it's a wet, sticky one. His hand doesn't linger around my cheek— it just stays there.

"I think she doesn't want us to kiss," he says.

I don't get to reply. He doesn't hesitate for a moment to press his lips to mine. Softly at first, so I can pull away if I want to. But I don't. My hand makes its way to the back of his head so I can pull him closer onto me.

My eyes flutter closed. All the chills of the waves fade into the background. I focus on his lips moving against mine, still tenderly but yearning. So yearning that during the kiss, we sit up to reach each other even better. The hand that isn't on my cheek slides around my waist, pulling me so close that the rush of warmth I get chases the cold away.

For a few seconds, no matter how insane that sounds, the world is nothing but the sound of waves, the taste of the salty sea on his lips, and his touch. When we eventually break apart, we're both smiling, breathless and giddy.

Our foreheads are pressed together. If I'd lean in right now, I'd hit his lips again.

So I lean in again.

If I would've known a simple kiss would be this good, I might've done it way earlier.

A soft laugh escapes from him. "Maybe next time, without Mango's help?"

"And the ocean's," I add, shivering slightly.

"Wanna try for a fourth time, though?"

"Fifth," I correct.

His head tilts to the side. "At eleven, and two now... I am pretty sure that's—"

"You kissed me when you were drunk."

"...I did what?"

I chuckle so loudly that I throw my head back. At first, the kiss caused some issues, but now it's kind of funny. "I might've left some things out."

"And I thought peeing in the laundry basket was bad."

Offended, I look at him. "Why is kissing me bad?"

"It's bad that I missed out on something like that."

"I guess we can now do it as many times as we want," I reply.

"I want to remember every single moment—"

"Oh, shush." I laugh again. "You'll get plenty other moments to cherish."

Then he kisses me another time, more confidently. I wrap my arms around his neck. Pull him so close that we fall backwards into the sea again.

"Shamefully, I imagined like forty ways of kissing you and none of them included sitting in the sea," he murmurs against my lips.

"I did. But my versions didn't include Mango being the cause of our fall."

"You imagined—"

"—kissing you, just like you imagined kissing me, mhm."

"Crazy," he answers.

I slip my hand in his open one. "Guess we're a good match."

"Obviously— wait, I need to confess. This is such an... ordinary way of—"

"Saying you've imagined forty ways of kissing me is a bigger confession than a lot of people can already give."

"Maybe, but there's, like, a lot of things I need to share. You know what, I'll just give you one of my recent letters. That'll tell you only a quarter of it but it's better than nothing."

I lean closer to tell him, laughing as I do so, "I mean, if you want to. But like five different people have told me that you like me so I don't need a lot of confirmation."

He frowns. "No one told me you like me. And who are these traitors?"

I shrug. "Too many people to remember."

"Ohh, you little—" Thomas pushes my head underwater at my grinning expression.

With a gasp, I push him back. By the time he has finished rubbing his eyes, I've fled further into the sea. My soaked clothes make my ten times heavier and it's hard to run with, but I manage... sort of.

He removes his jacket and throws it onto the sand. Mango watches it for a few seconds, then runs after Thomas and I with happy barks.

After less than twenty seconds, his arms wrap around me from behind. "Got you."

I kick around in attempt to escape, but fail. "Dammit."

"Too bad." Laughing, he puts me back down on the sand. The water hits my waist; we're quite deep in.

"You will alwa— holy shit!" I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging around him. I felt something. Something touched my leg and if it was a fish, I am not swimming here for the following weeks. Fish scare me.

Caught off guard by surprise, he stumbles backwards, and we fall, head under, into the icy water.

Once we've made it above again, I scoff. "Can't even carry m—" I can't even finish. He has already swung me up, over his shoulder.

"I can carry you."

"Yes," I peep, having to hold back a lot of laughs. "I notice that now."

"What did you say? 'Oh, you're so fit and strong, Thomas. Please carry me forever!'?" He mimics.

"You've been hanging out with Minho too much!"

"What was that?" He spins and spins around, until I'm screaming and holding onto his waist for dear life.

And yet I'm still laughing so hard that my stomach hurts. "I'm not saying that!"

"Saying what?"

"That you're so fit and strong and that I want you to carry me forever."

"Good to know."

"Wha— Thomas!" I start hitting him on his back.

He laughs, his body trembling alone so badly that I feel it in my body.

"You can put me down now."

"Alright." And he lets go of me.

Like, he just lets go off my ankles, so I slide straight into the water. Huffing and puffing and coughing water out of my mouth, I stand up again. "I nearly just drowned."

"Nearly."

"You're not supposed to let that happen as my boyfriend," I tease.

"Ah, so I'm your boyfriend now." He crosses his arms, nodding in approval.

"What do you want then? To be my girlfriend?"

"Nope. Being your boyfriend sounds just perfect."

"But you're also still my best friend. Deal?"

"Deal."

My smile grows back onto my face. "Awesome. Can we get out of the water now?"

"Yes. It's cold."

Together, we walk out of the water. Our fingers intertwine halfway on our route back home. Mango's excitedly walking along with us, her tail swinging left and right.

"Which house is it gonna be?"

"Mine," he decides. "No brothers who can interview us."

"But your parents are noisier," I point out. "No offense."

"It's gotta be either of them."

"Yours," I agree quickly. He chuckles below his breath, and then we enter his house, wetting the floor and every object we pass.