Alex's POV
There's something about the last night of summer.
The air feels thinner. Sharper. Like the world's holding its breath before everything changes. You can smell fall on the wind—woodsmoke and cool earth—and even though the sand under my shoes is still warm from the sun, I know it won't be for much longer.
I toss the football into the air and catch it again, the leather smacking against my palm. A lazy habit. Something to keep my hands busy while everyone gathers around me—Haley, clinging to every word I say like it's a lifeline. Sam cracking jokes. Penny pretending she's reading but glancing at Sam every other second. They're all here, buzzing with that quiet, excited energy that only comes around during moments like this. The ones that slip away too fast.
But I'm not really listening to any of them.
I'm waiting.
I don't even know what for.
Then I see her.
She steps onto the beach like the night was waiting for her to arrive. Like it held off turning cold, just for her.
Hannah.
Her hair is loose, catching the breeze like it belongs to it. And she's wearing this green sweater-dress—soft, like moss after rain. It hugs her in a way that makes me forget how to breathe for a second. I don't think I've ever seen her dress up like that before. She doesn't need to. But tonight... it's different. She looks different.
Beautiful.
No. Not just that.
Intentional.
Like she knew she'd be seen.
Our eyes meet, and for the briefest moment, the whole dock fades away. I raise my hand in a casual wave—like I haven't been thinking about her since the party. Like I haven't replayed that night over and over in my head, wondering what she felt, what she wanted, what she's thinking now.
She waves back, and for a second, I think... maybe.
But then she looks away.
Like I was never really the one she was searching for.
And something in my chest twists.
I laugh at something Sam says, mostly to play it off. To pretend that it doesn't matter. That I don't notice how her eyes scan the crowd until they land—right at the far end of the dock.
Sebastian.
Of course.
He's standing there like a shadow, like he's part of the ocean itself. Moody. Quiet. Watching her.
And then she starts walking toward him.
I stop tossing the football.
Haley says something, probably about her hair or her dress or how I should go say hi, but I don't. I just stand there, watching.
Watching the way her whole posture changes when she sees him.
Watching how he doesn't say a word, but still manages to hold her there like gravity.
And all I can think—whether it's fair or not—is how easy it is for him to stand there and say nothing... and still somehow be the one she walks toward.
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, staring at the water.
The jellies haven't come in yet.
But I already know the moment I'll remember most from tonight.
It won't be the glow in the water.
It'll be the way Hannah looked at Sebastian like he was the only thing in the world worth seeing.
--------------------------------------- The Next Day-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Fall hit overnight. The air smells like burnt leaves and morning frost, and the sky is that kind of steel blue that makes everything feel heavier than it should.
Summer's gone, and I miss it already. Not just the heat. Not just the games. But the simplicity.
And yeah—I'm trying to pretend it's just the change in season weighing on me. But I know better.
It's her.
Hannah.
The girl with sea-glass eyes and dirt under her nails and a laugh that cracks through my chest like thunder. I gave her the coldest shoulder last night. Not because I meant to. Not because she deserved it. But because I didn't know what else to do.
She looked beautiful. Magical. And I felt like a damn idiot standing there tossing a football while she walked past me like I was background noise. She didn't even do anything wrong—she never does. It's me. It's always me.
I can't compete with Sebastian. He's quiet, mysterious, the brooding musician type. Girls love that. And whatever it is they have between them? You'd have to be blind not to feel it humming in the air.
Still... she looked at me once, like I was more than just the guy who benches 250 and hides behind jokes. That look is still lodged in my ribs like shrapnel.
But what would I even offer her?
I'm chasing a dream. One I've had since I was ten. Going pro. Making it out. No distractions, no mess, no heartbreak. That's what I've always told myself. And then Hannah showed up in her oversized flannels and impossible kindness and suddenly everything else feels... kind of flat.
My heart's yelling, ask her out, but my head's whispering, don't be a fool.
Maybe that makes me a coward. Or selfish. Or both.
Or maybe... I'm just scared to risk something that feels this real.
Still, I can't play games with her. It's Hannah. That name alone feels like a full sentence.
I grunt as I lift the barbell overhead, watching my reflection in the bathhouse window. My muscles burn, sweat sliding down my spine. This spot near the train station is my go-to during fall—quiet, cool, peaceful. A place where I can work it out without anyone watching.
I slam the barbell to the ground, shake out my hands, and try to breathe the tightness out of my chest.
"Alex?"
That voice hits me like a pulled muscle.
I turn.
There she is.
Hannah.
Her hair's a mess—tied up in one of those buns girls do when they don't care, but somehow it makes her look like art. There's dirt on her overalls, boots scuffed from the fields, and a backpack sliding off one shoulder. Her cheeks are pink from the crisp air, and she's got this unbothered, earthy beauty to her that makes me forget how words work.
Of course she'd show up now, looking like fall itself came to life.
"Hey, farm girl," I say, trying to keep it cool. "What are you doing out here so early?"
She raises an eyebrow. "Early? It's 10 a.m."
I smirk and lean back on the rock. "I forgot you wake up before your chickens do."
She grins, that sideways kind that makes her eyes crinkle. "I was coming to see Marlon, but I forgot he doesn't open till later."
She looks around. "Is this where the cool kids come to hang out now?"
I chuckle. "Only the super cool ones."
She plops down beside me on the grass, setting her backpack between us. "Well, then I guess I qualify."
There's a beat of silence. Not uncomfortable—just full. Like the kind of quiet you get when something unspoken is hanging heavy in the air.
Her shoulder brushes mine and I don't move. I can't.
"So..." she starts, picking at a thread on her overalls. "You seemed... different last night."
Damn.
Straight to it.
I run a hand through my hair. "Yeah. I guess I was."
She doesn't let up. "Wanna tell me why?"
I look at her—really look at her. She's not angry. Just open. Brave in the way I wish I could be.
"I guess..." I start, my throat tight, "I was being a jerk. And I hate that I was. You looked..." I shake my head. "You looked like the reason people write songs."
Her eyes widen just a little then she laughs at how cheesy I sound.
"And I didn't know what to do with that," I laugh along. "Because I know you and Sebastian have... something. And the last thing I want to be is the guy who gets in the way of someone's real thing."
She's quiet for a moment.
My heart trips over itself.
I don't know if I'm ready.
"I'm not great at the emotional stuff," I admit. "But I care about you, Hannah. I think about you... probably more than I should."
She tilts her head. "Then maybe stop thinking."
I blink. "What?"
She laughs—this soft, fluttery sound. "Just stop thinking. For once. Just... be."
And somehow, just sitting there beside her, the sun catching on the edges of her messy hair, the cold air making her cheeks glow—I am.
I nod.
"Okay," I say.
We sit in silence after that, our shoulders still touching, the whole world soft around the edges. And for the first time in a while, I don't feel like I have to run.
I just feel... here.
With her.
21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrwjtbzIUs0
