"You said you wouldn't let go," I pointed an accusing finger at my mother, sweat trickling down my neck. My hands were grubby from the pavement, face flushed in the lingering heat of summer. The mane of red curls I'd inherited from the traitor formerly known as Mom had been hastily tied back into a ponytail, but after the last hour of being shoved under a helmet, it had since escaped and was sticking out at every possible angle.

"And you said you'd keep pedaling," my mother replied wryly, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"You promised!" I said indignantly, stamping my foot. "She promised, Lou!" I turned imploringly to Louisa Maxwell, my mom's best friend since elementary school, and the woman who had basically been my second parent my entire life. Louisa was tall, willowy, and absolutely stunning. All dark hair and doe eyes and olive skin. She had modeled in Europe for a couple years in her twenties, before she moved back to Lovingston with her husband, Roger, and had Gavin.

Speaking of Gavin. There he was, careening down the cul de sac without a care in the world. He poked his tongue out at me as he passed, all smug and triumphant. I scowled back at him, huffing "I don't see why we have to learn how to ride bikes together. I don't even like riding my bike."

"Technically you're the only one still learning, Jules," taunted Gavin, zooming around in circles. He already had a scrape across his knee from a tumble he'd taken, and I cringed at the sight of it. Blood made me squeamish, and just the thought of having to clean it out hurt.

"Shut up, dummy."

"I think you're the dummy."

"No, you—"

"No name-calling, please," Louisa reprimanded us both, peering over her tortoiseshell sunglasses. "And you have to learn together because you learned to crawl together, to walk together, and swim, and read, and write, and everything else."

"Did I do all those things before Jules too?" Gavin smirked, and I swung a fist at him. I was too late. He was already pedaling away.

"Gavin stop teasing her," Louisa said. "One day when you're all grown up you'll feel very lucky you got to share all these moments with each other. It's nice."

"It's stupid," I muttered.

"Julia..." my mother clucked her tongue. "We don't say that word."

"Whatever, Jules," Gavin rode his bike around me, again and again and again until I was dizzy. I kicked at his shins in vain. "You're just scared."

"I'm not scared!"

"Prove it," he challenged, skidding to a stop in front of me, arms folded over his chest. I growled in frustration. I couldn't possibly back down now. There was no way he was getting away with calling me scared. At six years old, that's one of the worst insults imaginable.

With a newfound determination, I mounted my bicycle, securing the helmet strap under my chin.

Pushing off the ground, I pedaled furiously, determined to show Gavin I wasn't scared. The wind whipped through my hair as I gained speed, a surge of adrenaline fueling my movements.

But as I focused on proving my bravery, I failed to notice the uneven pavement ahead. The bike jolted, and before I knew it, I was careening forward, the world spinning as I lost control. With a sharp cry, I toppled to the ground, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through my elbow.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I cradled my injured arm, feeling the sting of scraped skin against the pavement. Through the haze of pain, I heard footsteps rushing towards me. Gavin was by my side in an instant, his expression filled with concern.

"Jules, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

I sniffled, trying to blink away the tears. "It hurts," I whimpered.

Gavin gently knelt beside me, his touch tender as he inspected my elbow. "Let me see," he said softly.

As he examined the scrape, his fingers brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. But the pain faded into the background as I felt his warmth and care enveloping me. Then, to my surprise, he pressed a gentle kiss to my elbow, his lips lingering for a moment.

"There," he said with a reassuring smile. "All better."

"Thanks, Gav," I said gratefully, hugging him tight. He smelled like dirt.

"Jules, guess what?" he grabbed my sweaty hand in his and pulled me to my feet.

"What?"

Gavin grinned, a gap where one of his teeth should be, "You rode your bike."

I felt a rush of warmth flood my cheeks as I gazed up at him, grateful for his comforting presence, "I did ride my bike." And just as I thought the moment couldn't get any sweeter, I heard the click of a camera shutter.

Turning my head, I saw our moms standing nearby, their faces soft with affection as they captured the scene before them. Despite the pain in my elbow, a smile tugged at my lips.

"Race you home," Gavin called over his shoulder, taking off to his own bike.

so yeah...

starting another thing

which is so me

and also like yes i have two things i haven't finished

and historically starting new things does not help me

because it distracts me

and i want to do so many things at once

but this story has been my new hyper fixation

so maybe things will be different this time!

(probably not but we can dream)

anyway hope you enjoy!

-coco