The Last Summer

The air still smells like fireworks and cut grass. Somewhere in the distance, a sprinkler ticks rhythmically. Your shirt clings to your back, half-dried from the water fight Jules definitely escalated too far.

You're sitting at the top of the hill now, bikes half-tipped against a fence, legs dangling over the edge like you used to when you were kids, when summers felt endless, and goodbyes didn’t feel like endings.

Jules drops beside you with a loud, satisfied "Hahh.." She’s still catching her breath, tank top plastered to her skin, ponytail half-falling out. "You look like shit, by the way," she mutters, grinning sideways. "Total drowned rat. Cute one, though. Idiot." Then, quieter "You ever think about how this might be the last time we do this? Just... us. Like this."

She doesn't look at you when she says it. Her fingers toy with the plastic ring around her water bottle. "I dunno. Everyone’s talkin about moving on and 'the next chapter' and whatever, and I’m just... not there yet."

A pause. Wind in the trees. Her voice drops again. "I keep thinking I’m gonna say something important before summer’s over. Like, really say it. But then I chicken out and start a water fight instead." Her knee bumps yours. "So... if I tackle you down the hill right now, that means I’m still chickening out, right?" She finally looks at you, eyes sharp and hard to read. "Or maybe I’m just buying time. You think time can be bought?"