Here for the Summer / Ongoing

1- Kendra Lee?

He stuffs his phone into his pocket as he unlocks the front door. The house is quiet in here, at least. Just a few rooms over, he knows that the cook is hard at work, finishing up the dinner preparations and starting on the options for breakfast. After scanning the rest of the immaculate living room for signs of life, he strides to the far end and twists the lock on a set of french doors, leading to the patio. He takes just two steps outside before she sees him.

"Fletcher!" His mother cries, waving him over to the lounge area where she is seated with his father. "You've made excellent time. The traffic wasn't too bad then, I gather?" She pours him a cup of water from the crystal pitcher at the center of the table, and he takes a seat in between them.

"It was just fine," He responds and takes a long sip. His father offers him a quiet nod of acknowledgment, and a soft smile. "The garden looks fantastic, Mom," Fletcher starts, trying to fill the empty summer air with conversation. "Are the new hires already working?"

His mother nods with a grin. "Yes- in fact, the last one is actually still back by the magnolia tree, just over there." She points to a large tree in the distance. "Fletcher, would you mind going over there to let her know that she is welcome to go home? And she can feel free to grab a plate of dinner if she would like. I asked Cyrus to make heaps once I found out that you would be coming home today."

He nods, setting his cup down on the table before offering a sheepish grin to his mother and slipping a coaster underneath it. The garden truly is beautiful, he decides as he begins his short jaunt to the magnolia tree. Fletcher's family had lived here since before he was born, so he knew just about all of the plants that were growing in the garden. But others, like the wild, bright purple blooms that he was passing just now, were new. Fletcher contemplated this for a moment as he slowed down, now seeing the figure of a young woman, bent over the far garden bed. She was yanking small weeds from the ground and tossing them into a bright pink bucket. Her tenacity made fast work of the task, and Fletcher could see that she had already made a great impact on the rest of the bed.

"Excuse me?" He called unsurely, suddenly realizing that he had forgotten to ask his mother what her name was. "Sorry, I don't know your name. Elizabeth just wanted me to tell you that you're free to go. I'm her son," He continued. "So you'll probably see more of me if you decide to keep working here. Oh! And the cook made plenty of extra food if you'd like some."

The girl continued to weed, digging her gloved hands into the soil, back to him. Absolutely no acknowledgment of his presence. Fletcher adjusted his stance, uncomfortable. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a thin white cord snaking out of her pocket and into her maze of dark, amazingly short hair.

That would explain it.

Fletcher took a few steps closer to her and tried to give her a soft tap on the back. The girl shrieked and whipped around, falling against her bucket and ripping her headphones out in one chaotic motion. The small weeds spilled around her as she settled, staring at him in shock.

But he wasn't focusing on any of that. He was staring, openmouthed, at the girl before him. Sure enough, all of the facts lined up. Honey eyes, hair shorn just above her chin, and Colombian skin.

Kendra Lee.

In Fletcher Cadwell's backyard.

A bright, lilting laugh makes contact with his cheeks as he pushes the doors of the science building open, stepping inside. It does not take any effort to find her- he is drawn to her form, and that is the end. Fletcher wonders if this is what it's like, in the movies, when the plot gets its kickstart from a first glance. He can only hope.

She is at the other end of the hall, spinning wildly, unkempt and out of control. Her friend, a tall, reed-thin Asian girl, has her hands locked around the girl's arms and controls her chaos. It is a sight to see, a wild, red-lipped tornado with fire-filled eyes and a loud laugh that bounces against the walls, against his surprised self. Fletcher knows that he has a class to get to just down the hall, but that would require walking past her, leaving her, and unfortunately, he seems incapable of such a feat. So, he decides to focus on some other, curious part of her in these milliseconds that are left. (Fletcher knows now, in this after, in the garden, just how much time remains).

Her thick dark brown hair has been shorn just above the chin, curling at the ends to tuck around her face.

She is perfect.

Footsteps echo down the hall. The Asian girl can see someone that Fletcher cannot. With a smile, she twists the small tornado's arm and her skirt flutters around the tops of her thighs as she slips into someone's waiting arms.

William Yong.

Fletcher lets out a soft, hopefully, unintelligible sigh.

Well, then. It is over.

Fletcher turns back to the tornado girl, lying in his backyard. She is settling down now, gathering the weeds around her and tossing them into her bucket as she adjusts her clothes.

Perhaps it isn't over after all.

____________________

A/N

Hello, lovelies! I'm starting this story that I've been thinking about writing for a hot minute now. I hope you're enjoying it :) Make sure to comment with your opinions, and vote if you're feeling generous <3

Just so you know, I'm writing a lot of the chapters before releasing anything, meaning that weekly updates will be dependable because all of the work is done! So, kick back, relax, and settle in for a great story :)

Update schedule: every Tuesday, and every other Friday

love, astrid young