"You're sure you're doing much better today?" I ask Lucy as I tuck her in bed the next evening.

My little sister pulls the covers up to her chin and plays quietly with the end of her single braid. "Much better. Don't worry, Sissy. I'm fine," and she smiles a bright smile my way to prove her point.

I still sit next to her and brush her hair with my hand. When I'd come home yesterday from the lake with Yann, I'd found Lucy silently sitting on the couch, watching some cartoon on TV. Ellie had told me she hadn't said much throughout the day and I'd been sick worried about her. She had gone to bed sometime later after my arrival and hadn't woken up once during the night. (I know this because I couldn't sleep last night.) However, this morning when I woke up, she was already gone to Matt's. I hadn't wanted to disturb her and simply waited until she came back from her day with Matt. I was surprised to find her giddy and garrulous as usual. She was happily blooming again. I was happy. Still worried, but happy.

"If you need anything, just –"

"Call you," she cuts off. "I know."

I smile at her and kiss her forehead. "You want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "I'm ten, Tracy. Not five."

"Still my little sister," I say with a final kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, then."

"Night, Sissy," she says and sprawls all over the bed.

Quietly, I make my way down the stairs and go join Ellie who's sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels in search of something interesting to watch. As I enter the living room, her head snaps us.

"She's asleep?"

I take a seat next to her and fold my legs underneath my body. "She didn't want me to stay until she's asleep. She said she wasn't five anymore."

Ellie laughs. "That, my friend," she says, "is how you know she's doing much better."

I smile. "I guess," then I sigh. "I can't believe she's already ten. I remember her being this tiny little thing in my arms," I muse with nostalgia.

"Careful," Ellie teases, "you almost sound like you love her."

I bump my best friend's shoulder forcefully and she only laughs harder. "By the way," I say as I remember something, "Did you figure out that thing with Will about Yann?" I ask.

Ellie blows out a long sigh and her shoulders sag a little. "I was able to calm Will down but let's say, I'm still waiting for the storm and I know it's going to happen in the weeks to come."

"Calm Will?" I asked surprise, "I thought you'd be calming Yann." I've seen Will worried, but angry? Never.

"Sometimes, I honestly get sick of it all," Ellie confesses. "Of trying to pacify them."

"Sounds like being between the hammer and the anvil," I mutter as I turn my face to the TV screen.

Next to me, Ellie sighs again. "You have no idea."

As she flips through the channels, something catches my attention. "Go back," I tell her. She does as asked and once I've found what I was looking for, I tell her, "There. Stop."

It's another Badred interview. The old couple is still looking for their son, still moving mountains after four years. My heart squeezes in my chest for them. "Really, no matter how much watching them hurts me, I keep thinking their son must have had a good reason."

"I'm sure he did," she says and I turn around at the bitterness in her voice. "What? You heard what they keep saying. That they pushed him too far. I think there's only so much someone can take before they break."

"Yeah," I agree with her and go back to watching the TV.

"Can I change it now? I don't want to watch that."

Again, there's the bitterness in her voice but I shrug it away and blame it on sympathy for that boy. God knows I would probably run away too if I had parents like that.

***

Two hours later, I'm sitting in the living room, suffocating, trying desperately to fall asleep but it's no use. Ellie has gone to bed around an hour ago but I'm sitting in the same position as earlier, unable to get sleep to claim me. I've tried counting sheep but to no avail. I've tied my hair up in a ponytail but the hot air in the room is nearly intoxicating me. Unable to stand it anymore, I go out in the backyard to get some fresh air.

I close my eyes and I inhale. It's amazing the change in the air I breathe now. The heat is replaced by coolness and I can breathe much better now. Undoing my recently-done ponytail, I let my hair fall down my back and turn around in circles. The air whooshes past me, creating some sort of wind that envelops me and I feel much cooler, the heat slowly dwindling to a faint nagging of warm air.

I let my arms drop to my sides and head towards the chaises longues. Then I freeze.

Yann is standing by the side of the pool, watching me silently. My heart leaps in my chest, and I hear it all the way in my eardrums when it slams against my ribcage. What is happening to me? Why does my heart always do that in his presence? Why does my mind get fuzzy like it does right now? My hands clammy? My feet glued to the ground? My eyes unable to leave his? Why do I feel nervous? I think I know why but I refuse to acknowledge the possibility. It just can't be that.

"Hi," I say and my voice comes out nervous. My thoughts drift to our kiss yesterday and I force myself to remain cool. "I didn't see you there." Gosh, I sound so dumb right now.

"I could see that," he says. The tone of his voice is even and he's standing in the shadows so that I cannot see him.

"Were you swimming?" I ask as I take a step towards him. OK, I'm no longer glued to the ground. I just need to get my heart to stop racing, gather my thoughts, wipe my hands on my pajama pants, look away and stop feeling nervous. I can do that, right?

"No," is all he says.

He's still in the shadows and I have no idea what expression he's wearing right now. "Do you want to –"

"I was just leaving," he says and starts walking past me without so much as a glance.

And just like that, my heart stops racing, my thoughts get clearer, I wipe my hands on my PJs, I am no longer looking at him nor nervous. That's better.

I go take a seat on one of the chaises longues and for a moment, I just sit here. I look at the water, still and completely limpid, reflecting the moon. I look to the great greyness up there, suddenly wishing I could go up that high.

Loneliness suddenly invades me. I pull my phone out and scroll out through my list of contacts. The first person I think of calling is my father but I know he wakes up early in the morning and I don't want to disturb him. Then comes Ollie, but with his internship and job responsibilities, I suppose he too has to wake up early tomorrow. I keep scrolling through the names but besides Ellie and Will, there's no one I want to talk to – Ellie is already asleep and Will is going to work tomorrow. Damnit, I think, who's not going to work tomorrow?

Then I stumble upon her number. My mother's. She is most definitely going to work tomorrow but I have this weird craving all of the sudden. I want to hear her voice, I want to talk to her. So without thinking twice about it, I dial her number, hoping she isn't asleep.

She picks up on the third ring. "Tracy? Hey, honey."

I find myself smiling at the endearment. She doesn't often use them. "I'm fine, Mom. Just calling to check up on you."

Her chuckle comes to me through the receiver. "That's very thoughtful of you, but I'm fine, thank you."

Our conversation is a little awkward, as always. I like to think we're in the early stage of a growing mother-daughter bond. And I love it. Over the past weeks, I've found myself talking to her once or twice a week. That's more than we used to while I was away at college – which was once a month at most. I like that she seems to realize she hasn't been giving us much of her time over the years. I don't know what caused her to be aware of it – maybe a fight with Dad or colleagues at work – but I am grateful for it.

We're ten minutes into the conversation when we are both silent. I suppose that ten minutes on the phone nonstop is a good start. I could go well beyond that but maybe she cannot. Not yet.

"Well, it's late." I start to fill the silence. "I bet you have work tomorrow."

"I bet you have Lucy tomorrow." She laughs, and I'm a little surprised yet happy that she knows how much of a struggle Lucy can be as she is rarely present to witness it.

"I do, indeed."

And that leads me to tell her how much of a handful Lucy has been over the past few days. We laugh a little about it, talk for a few more minutes before we get off the phone. I scrunch up my nose as I think of our conversation, wondering why she sounds less tired and busy than usual. I put my phone down on the ground and lie down in the chair.

"I thought you had a closer relationship with your mom."

Surprised by his voice, I sit up suddenly and look up at Yann. He's standing a few feet away, observing me. I frown at him but he only looks. I ask myself if he's been listening to my phone conversation but don't bother to ask him. He obviously heard it all.

"I thought you were gone," I say. "Have you been there all this time?"

He shrugs as he stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets. "Does that change anything?"

"You were eavesdropping," I scold him.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You're gonna lecture me about eavesdropping now?"

I blush under his gaze and look away. My heart has started racing in my chest again. "Why are you back anyways?" The unfriendliness of my tone surprises even me and I wonder where it comes from.

"I don't know," he says after a moment of silence. "I like it here, I guess." He's lying but I don't point it out. We both know why he came back.

My lips start tingling in recollection of our kiss yesterday and I bite down on them hard enough to stop the unwelcome sensation. I don't want to be thinking about Yann that way. I am not even sure what those kisses mean to him. I do know, however, that they mean something to me.

I'm looking straight ahead, at the pool before me, bracing myself on either side of the chair. I feel him come closer to me and I bow my head down purposely, letting my hair fall. Surprisingly, right now, he's not the person I want to see or talk to whereas during the past few days, I would have given anything to be near him.

I am deeply confused about why I feel the way I do around him. Confused as to why I can't breathe normally, as to why I feel the need to get closer physically and emotionally, confused because I can't get him out of my mind. And it has absolutely nothing to do with figuring him out and his mystery. And that's what confuses me the most. I simply want to be around him, be with him.

"Graham," he says.

I take in a deep breath quietly. "Huh?" I ask, head still down.

My hair is hiding him from my view but I can feel him close to me. I feel him crouch down next to my chair and seconds later, his fingers brush the side of my face as he removes my hair and tucks it behind my ears. I am bared now but I still don't look in his direction.

"Don't hide from me," he says softly, his tone gentle and I'm tempted to close my eyes and let the words glide against my skin.

"I'm not hiding from you," I lie.

His fingertips reach for my chin and I try to fight back but his hold is firm. He turns my face to his and looks at me dead in the eyes. "I know when you're lying," he says. "What is it?"

How can I possibly tell him? He probably wouldn't understand. He'd probably tell me not that I am getting too attached, too involved, too emotional. I can't face his rejection. I can handle him being mean and throwing insults my way, but I know for a fact that if he tells me that his feelings for me are just platonic, I won't be able to bear with it.

So I don't tell him. "Not sure I want the summer to end," I say. It's half the truth, though. I've been sad for a few days that summer was coming to an end. "Sophomore year is gonna be a pain in my ass, I can feel it." As the words leave my mouth, I wince as I'm reminded he doesn't go to college. "Sorry," I apologize to him with a grimace.

He shrugs and lets his hand fall. Immediately, I miss his touch. He gets up and sits in the chair next to me. "It's alright," he says but I can tell that by the tone of his voice, it's not alright.

"Can I ask you a question?" I see his jaw tick but he says yes nonetheless. "What would you have studied if you had been in college?"

He lifts his head at me as if that's the last question he expects to hear. "What do you think?"

I shrug. "Either music or lit. I'd say swimming but obviously, there's no such major," I smile at him.

He nods and says, "None."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "What do you mean none? That's what you love."

"My father would have never let me," he blurts out and by the glance he throws my way, I can tell I wasn't meant to hear that.

I want to ask what he means by that but I don't because I know he won't want to talk about it. "Let me rephrase that then," I say. "What would you want to study?"

He smiles to himself as he gazes at the water before us. "Music," he says, his voice dreamy, probably wondering what it would be like to be in college, studying something of his choice and not that his father forced upon him.

"You're a great pianist," I compliment genuinely, "I definitely see you in some big orchestra or something."

His head turns to me and his eyes are gleaming with something I can't decipher. "Really?" He asks and his tone reminds me of that of Lucy's sometimes when I tell her she can do something she thought I would forbid her to do: elated disbelief.

"Really," I smile at him. "There's nothing you can't do, Yann. The only obstacle to your dreams if yourself."

I mean it in a general way but he takes my words personally. "It's not that easy for everyone, Graham."

I somehow know that he won't want to talk anymore so I don't ask any more questions. I check the time on my phone: 00:47am. Past midnight and I am not sleepy. I find myself blurting out the words before I can hinder their flow. "Would you mind staying out with me?"

I don't even bother looking at him. I wait, one, two, three seconds. I count. If by ten he doesn't say anything, I'll take back my words to make his reply less humiliating for me. Seven, eight, nine...

"Until you fall asleep?" Caught off guard, I turn my head. His eyes are glinting with playfulness. I'm about to talk but he cuts me off. "No, I wouldn't mind, Graham."

I smile to him, thanking him. He only stares for two seconds before looking away.

"I'm not gonna fall asleep any time soon, you know?"

He hums, non-committal. "Why do you talk so much?" His voice has lost its earlier playfulness and is now laced with annoyance. "And no, it's not to tell you to shut up," he adds the moment the thought crosses my mind.

I shrug, not pointing out the fact that he already knew what I was thinking. Talking is unveiling oneself unknowingly, he said. I talk so much that now he's starting to know me. "I don't know. It's just me. It annoys people a lot, usually those who don't really know me."

"It doesn't bother me," he says, "it only pisses me off at times."

"When you're feeling moody, you mean? Like ninety-nine percent of the time?"

He turns to me with a frown. "I think you're exaggerating a bit."

I scoff. "I'm not and you know."

He doesn't say a word. He seems to be contemplating what I've told him. He's deep in thought, his eyebrows forming a frown and his pink lips puckered.

"You like Will?"

I'm still staring at him and do not expect this question. He's looking ahead of him, as if he wasn't even talking to me. "Yes, as a friend." I answer after a moment of disbelief. Why would he think I like Will?

His head turns in my direction. "I don't believe you."

"Well, I'm telling the truth. I don't like him more than as a friend."

"He's my friend." Yann says after a moment.

"And?" I ask, wondering where he's going with this.

And as always, he doesn't answer straight away. It's like he enjoys creating a suspense that isn't totally one. "I wouldn't let him go out with anyone."

I cock an eyebrow and choose to ignore how he says anyone as if I was a girl guys shouldn't get involved with. "And you're sure that's the real reason you're asking?"

His head snaps my way very fast and I have time to catch the surprise on his features before he sets his face in a neutral one. "What else would it be?"

It's my turn not to answer as I have nothing to say. The answer on my lips is highly improbable so I don't say it. You're jealous and you like me. But as I said, highly improbable. So I only get more comfortable in my seat and close my eyes. I breathe in the summer air of the night and reel in the feeling of wellbeing that envelops me.

"I like to get answers to my questions." Yann says when he realizes I am not going to say more, his voice dripping with unhidden annoyance.

So I say, "And I like to get honest answers to my questions." And when I feel like he might start getting upset, I add, "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

But I never hear the creaking of the chair that would indicate he's leaving until I fall asleep.

•••

*clears throat* Ahem... Could Yann be falling for Tra-? Nah, never in a million years, right? Or could he? ;) let me know what you think :)

Thank you so much to all of you who have made it this far❤️