I had never been more tired in my life. Laying out in the warm, bordering on scalding midday sun, my entire sand caked body ached. Turns out surfing is ten times as intensive as any football practice I've ever attended. At least, for me it was, seeing as I was pretty god awful at surfing. And I do mean, really and truly terrible. At first, I thought it was just a learning curve, since I'd never surfed before in my life. I usually picked up athletic skills with ease, and I'd never had a problem with any other water sports. I assumed that once I learned the basics, I'd be a natural. But apparently, surfing was the one exception.

It probably had to do with the whole balancing element of it. I was really really shit at balancing. I can't even count the number of times I fell off my board, pummeled by the waves. Hence why I was sore as hell. Seriously, my arms felt like limp noodles. To be fair, the fact that I was tall definitely put me at a distinct disadvantage. I remember the one time Danny had dragged me to the roller skating rink, I'd come home with so many bruises I looked like a peach. My dad had torn me a new one that day, he was so mad. It was kind of there whole reason I'd agreed to go with Danny in the first place. God forbid I injured myself, and couldn't play football.

"Jake!"

I sat up, shielding my eyes from the sun. Sophia and Maia were walking towards me, Kai following behind, all of them carrying their surfboards. Sophia's blue eyes matched the sparkling water behind her, and my suspicions about latent freckles had been deliciously confirmed in the hours spent under the sun. Her nose was dusted with them, and her olive skin had grown honeyed, dark hair dripping down the smooth line of her back. And that goddamn bikini. That bikini was doing some serious damage. I basically choked on my own tongue when she pulled her t-shirt off.

"You ready to get back out there?" asked Kai, gesturing at my discarded board, which was lying a couple feet away.

"C'mon, Sherlock," wheedled Sophia, nudging me with her foot. "Catch one last wave before we head out."

"Easy for you to say," I pouted. Oh, did I not mention? Sophia was a fucking goddess at surfing. She was absolutely terrified and then— perfection. I think it had to do with the fact that her center of gravity is a hell of a lot closer to the ground than mine.

Maia shook her had at me, "Just because you were not an immediate surfing genius does not mean you get to sulk by the towels all day."

"I am not sulking," I insisted, somewhat half heartedly. I looked out at the rolling ocean that a had bested me. "I am preserving my livelihood."

She snorted, "Drama queen."

"Maia, I wiped out like twenty times."

"Twenty two, actually," corrected Sophia, helpfully.

I threw her an affronted look, "I'm so glad you had time to tally up my failures while you rode the waves."

"Well, it was sort of a given," Sophia smirked at me, eyes lighting up. "You see a lot more when you remain standing." Kai choked on a laugh, not even having the decency to look guilty on my behalf.

My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe she'd just said that. And I was so so glad she had. "My body wasn't enough?" I cried out, shaking my head in mock disappointment. "Now my ego is taking a beating too?"

She extended her hand out to me, "One wave, Jake." Her lips curved into a teasing smile, voice light, "Dare you."

"Randall..."

"Unless you're scared?" challenged Sophia, a singular eyebrow arching. She knew I wouldn't back down. I never did. Not from a dare. And especially not from her. Basically, she had me right in the palm of her hand. I was more than happy to be there.

I grinned, grabbing her hand, "Not a chance." When she yanked me to standing, my muscles twinged, reminding me just how horrible I was at surfing. "Ow," I grumbled to myself.

"You're such a baby," Sophia rolled her eyes, picking up her board. I think she was still getting revenge for this morning's scare, so I'd been going easy on her. She really was cute when she was angry. It was something about her little scowl. Not to mention she was so fucking hot in the morning, her hair a little wild, eyes a little wild.

But that was the last straw. I'd show her. I narrowed my eyes, "Oh yeah?" She nodded mischievously, smiling. "Really?"

She giggled, "Mmhmm."

"I'm giving you one last chance, Sophia."

"Okay, baby."

The words had barely left her lips before I charged at her. In one swift motion I'd scooped her off the ground and into my arms. I tried not to think to hard about the intense skin to skin contact going on right then, but it was hard not to when the scent of roses was all consuming, and her bare thighs were— Focus, Jake!

Sophia shrieked, kicking her legs in protest, "Jake!" But it was to no avail. She was about half my size, and while I couldn't balance for shit, I could sure as hell lift. I ran straight for the water, Maia and Kai close behind, tossing her into the surf without breaking a sweat.

When she surfaced, spluttering slightly, she lunged at me, doing her best to tackle me, but you know, like I said...the whole half my size thing was really working against her.

"Motherfucker!" cursed Sophia, hair whipping behind her. I couldn't help but laugh.

I shrugged, utterly pleased with myself, "That's what you—" The rest of my sentence was lost to the waves, because Maia, sneaky little thing, had dunked me from behind. Apparently, our allegiance from this morning's shenanigans had reached its expiration date. I coughed, eyes burning from the salt. The blurry, and very smug figures of Maia and Sophia came into view.

Sophia slapped the other girl a high five, "No, actually, I think that's what you get."

"Gonna help me out or what, mate?" I pleaded with Kai, who was standing a safe distance away. He looked amused.

"His British really comes out when he's angry," I heard Sophia murmur to Maia, and both girls giggled.

I tried again, "Kai."

"I'm staying out of it, dude," said Kai, laughing to himself. "They're scary."

But that didn't stop Maia from dunking him. Twice. They got me a couple more times too. But I think my favorite was when I tugged Sophia under the water by her ankle, and when she came up we were both laughing and gasping for air. Our faces were so close, and her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was practically black and all I wanted was to push it back from her face and kiss the hell out of her. Which was crazy. It was crazy because it hadn't even been two weeks since we'd met. It was crazy because I felt like I'd known her my entire life. And it was crazy because just for a moment, it felt like maybe she wanted to kiss me too.

And that was the really crazy part. Because when I'd been totally definitely not eavesdropping on her phone call yesterday, I'd picked up the vibe that there was something between her and whoever Tommy with the yellow heart who kept texting her was. I didn't know what it was. But it was something.

And that something might get in the way of what I hoped was another something, brewing between Sophia and I. It couldn't be nothing. Could it?

When we arrived back at the house, Abby was out. There was a note on the fridge that said, as usual,

Be back later, feed Stevie

xxx Abby

I saw Sophia's face fall slightly when she ripped the paper from its magnet, but she quickly rearranged her features into a smile. I allowed y fingers to gently, and briefly brush her shoulder, "She works hard, huh?" The statement was an invitation, an opening to talk about it. If she wanted to. Subtle. You had to be subtle with Sophia.

"Yeah," nodded Sophia in agreement, crumpling the note into a bag in the palm of her hand. "It's just—"

"What?" I prompted, soft and calm.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I just thought we'd be spending more time together. This is the first time I've been out here since she moved, and the longest we've been in the same place since then too and— well, I see more of you than I do of her." She exhaled, laughing slightly, "No offense."

"I get it," I smiled. "She's your sister." And I did get it. As much as I could anyways, being technically an only child and all.

"We used to be so close, I just—" Sophia trailed off with a small sigh.

I let the comfortable silence hang there for a few moments before I said, "Well, it's a good thing I have such a pretty face." I was trying to lighten the mood, and it worked.

Sophia shoved my chest, glaring at me, "Shut up, Sherlock."

"I didn't hear any disagreement," I countered with a teasing grin.

Her only response was, "I'm going to wash up." Oh, and a middle finger thrown up as she walked away. That still wasn't disagreement, though. Which gave me hope. Pathetic hope. But hope all the same.

I dug my phone out of the beach bag, and saw Danny's name at the top of my notifications

Danny: dude im so hungover rn

Danny: have you texted your dad lately

Jake: No

Danny: dude

Jake: so what

Danny: jacob you know exactly what

Danny: have you even made a decision

Jake: ...

Danny: jake sweetheart you know i love you

Danny: but you gotta decide dude

Danny: i know its hard with fucking bradford

Danny: but you can't just avoid it all summer

Danny: you have to start picking classes soon

Danny: your future isn't something that's waiting you know?

Danny: yk i'm looking out for you

Danny: i just want you to be happy

Danny: jake?

I shut my phone off with a sigh, taking a deep breath. There were about a million missed calls from my mom, and just about as many from my dad. And of course, the emails piling up in my inbox from Cambridge and BU. Pre- season was starting soon. I knew that was why my dad was calling. He had no other reason too. He'd never cared about me beyond football. Sometimes I wondered if I didn't play, if I wasn't good, if I'd mean anything to him at all. Maybe that's why I was always too scared to quit.

Thoughts of my looming decision made my palms sweat, and one glance into my emails felt like a weight pressing down on my chest. I just wanted to forget about all of that. And here, that was pretty easy. Until it wasn't. Because the days were ticking down faster and faster, and sooner later I had to face the fact that I was—

"I don't know, Reagan," Sophia voice floated through the hall, and I peered around the corner. Sophia was pacing in her room, door slightly ajar, phone to her ear. "Well, why didn't you tell him?" Tell who what? Him? I knew Reagan was her best friend back home, but what could she be talking about. And yes I know eavesdropping is bad. She calls me Sherlock for a reason, okay? I'm nosy and I have really good hearing. Sue me.

"It's not like Jake is this big secret." Me! She was talking about me. I was a secret. But to who? There was a pause as I assumed her friend was talking, and then, "No. He doesn't know." Another pause. "Well, it's not like he asked." It had to be Tommy. It just had to be. "Can't you just bring it up? Casually or something?" Another pause. "Reagan, I know," she sounded frustrated, and a little...guilty? "I will. No, there's no reason."

So, Tommy didn't know about me. At all, apparently. Why? Why hadn't she told him about me? We spent every waking moment with each other. We worked together. We lived together. Reagan had known about me from day one, but Tommy, it seemed, hadn't. What did that mean? My thoughts, and my eavesdropping were interrupted by the vibrations of my own phone.

It was my mother.

Well, best just to bite the bullet. She was the lesser of two evils anyways.

"Hello, mother," I picked up on the third ring, mentally preparing myself for whatever came next.

"Jacob," she said briskly, British accent crisp and poised as ever, "excellent. I'll conference your father in."

I blanched, "Wait— what?"

"Hey, sport," my dad's boomed into my ear. My stomach soured.

"I'm quite sorry for the ambush, Jacob," apologized my mother, "but we've had a very difficult time getting a hold of you."

"It was Bea's idea."

I could practically hear my mother's irritation over the phone. She hated being called Bea. More than anything, really. "I'm sure he's deduced that for himself, Bradford." My mother was not one to mince words.

"Dad, what do you want?"

He started to answer, but before he could get a sound out my mother interjected, "Now Jacob, is that really a question? Or a device used to waste our time? Because I believe you know exactly what this call is about."

"Mum— I just need a little more time," I implored, running a harried hand through my hair.

"You've had time, Jacob," she replied. "Time has run out."

"But, mother—"

"It's really very simple, Jacob." Of course she would say that. She thought everything was simple and rational. "Do you want to spend the next four years surrounded with meatheads or—"

"Or surrounded by stuffy old broads," my dad finished, not to be outdone.

"Honestly, Bradford," huffed my mother. "Do you think that's helping?"

"You started it, Bea," he whined. "Didn't she start it, sport?"

"How many times have I asked you not to bring Jacob in the middle of us." I heard a tight inhale. "That's precisely the problem, Brad, you never listen. You wonder where he gets his—"

"And I'm always the problem, Beatrice." Uh oh. She was calling him Brad. He was calling her Beatrice. That never happened unless they were fighting. "You know—"

"Guys!" I exclaimed, exhausted already. "I will figure it out okay? And from now on please call me separately."

"I know you won't give up your dream, Jakey boy," my father said confidently. "It'd be a shame to waste that arm." Like I hadn't heard that my whole fucking life.

"Bye, dad." Now it was only me and my mother. I hadn't seen her in person since Thanksgiving. I missed her. Not that I'd ever say anything of the sort.

"Jacob," her voice was softer now. "I know you'll make the right decision. And while I'd quite like to have you with me. You know we'll support and love you either way." That was the thing. I wasn't so certain. "I love you."

"Love you too, mum," I murmured. "Goodbye."

I heard a door shut, and Sophia emerged from the bathroom, wet hair piled on top of her head in a lopsided bun that looked about as structurally sound as the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

"I'm assuming there is absolutely nothing in the fridge," she noted with her arms crossed, waltzing into the kitchen. She was wearing that ratty little t-shirt from some high school fundraiser that drove me absolutely insane. The hem of it just barely skimmed the line of her cotton shorts, exposing a strip of tan skin that was somehow undeniably more sexy than her in a bikini.

"Unless you really want expired kale chips?" I chuckled, drumming my hands on the counter top.

"Oh my god—" And suddenly Sophia's cool fingers were on my skin. I short circuited. Just a little bit. I didn't even know what she was doing. I didn't even care. All I cared about was the fact that she was very very close to me. So close that the top of her head grazed my shoulder. Her face was plain with concern. "Jake," she exclaimed.

"What?" She pressed down on the skin of my upper arm and I yelped involuntarily, "Ow!"

Sophia pointed her index finger at me, "That." I peered down and realized that the brief flame of pain was due to the violently red hue my arm was currently sporting. I was sunburned. Sunburned to oblivion. I was freakin Icarus. I looked like a lobster. I could only hope my face wasn't as red as my upper half. God, this was going to peel. Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse.

Sophia rolled up the sleeve of my shirt and I grimaced. "Jesus," she shook her head. "It's like— really bad."

"Randall, that is so not helping," I muttered, my skin growing hotter with each passing moment.

"Take off your shirt."

I choked on my own saliva, "Excuse you?"

She repeated what she had said, looking at me impatiently. "Take off your shirt," she ordered. "I have stuff for sunburns, but I need to know how bad it is."

"If you wanted me to strip you could just say so," I grinned, arching an eyebrow.

Sophia blushed pink, glaring at me, "Do you want my help or not?"

Agreeably, I pulled my shirt over my head and sat down on the chair where she directed. I was grinning so wide my cheeks hurt, and she was doing everything possible to avoid eye contact with me. Gently, she traced the lines of my arms, pressing the pads of her fingers to the tender skin.

"Yeah, you definitely need aloe," confirmed Sophia, and before I could even ask what she meant by that, I felt another texture on my skin. "Shit, Jake," she murmured softly, thumbing a spot near my shoulder blade. "You weren't kidding about getting pummeled. You've got bruises all over you."

"I told you I was wounded," I lifted my chin haughtily. I tried valiantly not to wince as her hands crossed over my burns.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, her hands stilling on my shoulders.

"No."

"Really?"

"No, that's a total lie." I admitted, and she laughed. "Just trying to be manly for you."

"Dork." She chucked my shirt back at my face. "It should be better tomorrow."

"Sure you want me to put this back on?" I teased. She ignored me. Very, very pointedly.

Then she turned around to face me, suddenly more solemn. "You okay, Sherlock?" she whispered.

"'Course," I tilted my head, confused. "Why?"

Sophia wavered for a minute. She sighed, "Okay so I totally didn't mean to— but I sort of overheard a bit your call with your parents."

"A bit?"

"Most of it," she amended. "Okay, all of it. But It was an accident," she insisted defiantly.

"And you say I'm creepy." There was a beat or two of silence.

"Do you want my two cents?" ventured Sophia, carefully. Her eyes cut to me, piercing blue locking with my own.

"I have a feeling you're going to give it to me either way."

"Forget about your parents, Jake," she told me earnestly. "Forget about everyone." She leaned in close to me then, determined, "What do you want?"

Of course that was the whole problem.

I had no fucking clue.