Coming Up For Air | ✓

12 | my best friend team-wrecker

There's a blonde woman on the dock.

Well. A young blonde woman. A twenty-something woman. Her panicked laugh echoes through the clear sky, light and loud as it blends together with the sounds belonging to a Blue Windflower Lake morning. Birds chirping—one noisier than the other, sprinklers watering a lawn, a lazy bee hovering above a flowerbed.

From where she's just stepped out onto the still overnight cool tiles of the patio, Stella watches as the blonde balances on the edge of the dock: the skirt of her yellow sundress fluttering against her lean thighs in the mild breeze, arches of her bare feet pressed into the wooden plank as her fingers dig deep into the skin of Jake's wrists, as if holding on for dear life.

"No, no, no!" She yells through her laughter, pushing back against Jake's attempt to wrestle her into the water. Somehow managing to keep her balance, the blonde retreats one of her hands and sprawls her fingers wide before Jake's eyes. "Jacob."

Laughing as well, though his is quieter than the blonde's, Jake pauses. Holding onto the blonde, now being the one to anchor her balance, they take a collective step back onto the dock before he lets go.

"Thank you," The blonde breathes, shaking her head with a small smile as she shoves past Jake—familiar grin having slipped onto his lips—to the other end of the dock where she crouches before a small straw tote bag.

Fizzy, tail wagging happily, comes to the blonde's side—rewarded with a sweet-sounding chortle as she nudges her cheek—while she slides a ring off her left hand and tucks it safely into a sunglass case.

Straightening up, the blonde gently pats Fizzy's head. "Okay, now, let us act like the adults we are and–AAAH."

A loud splash, the patter of droplets reaching far and wide, sounds over the backyard as the blonde breaks through the surface of the lake. Only drowned out by Jake—who's folded over himself—choking out a wheezing laugh.

Heaving herself up onto the dock, the blonde gently coughs through a laugh of her own and glares daggers at the boy who just threw her in.

She runs a hand down the soaked through fabric of her dress. "Not funny."

"Says you," Jake counters, laughter till spilling from his lips. "I happen to think that was hilarious,"

Stood leant against the wall of the house, Stella watches as Jake seems to conjure up a beach towel out of nowhere. He wraps it around the blonde, his arms lingering around her in a hug as he says, "Come on Team-wrecker; you're much prettier when you smile."

Stella presses her lips together, the tightened pull of her heartstrings only the top-layer of feeling as though she's intruding on a moment she's not supposed to be part of. Considering neither Jake or the blonde knows of her presence, she's pretty sure she is.

Turning around to leave, she's about to step back into the kitchen and grab something for breakfast—only to stub her toe on the threshold of the sliding door instead.

"Ow!" She howls, jumping back solely on her uninjured foot as a jolt of pain shoots up her leg. Clenching her teeth, she swears under her breath. "Fuckity-Fuck. Fuck."

Well, there goes her swift exit.

Soon, Fizzy is by her side, wagging her tail happily as she circles Stella. Stella, who still has her palm wrapped around her toe. With a ragged exhale, she lets her foot come back down to the ground just as the blonde comes running up the slight hill in quick strides, the towel lying discarded down by the dock.

"Are you okay?" She calls, lips forming a small smile despite the display of concern etched into her features.

"Yeah, just–," Stella dusts her palms off on her dark denim shorts with a small sigh. "Yeah."