“Because someone’s going in the restroom,â€? the voice said.

“Oh for crying out loud, they can’t see us.â€? I caved in to his gentlemanly way. I exited the restroom, greeted by his smile.
“What are you smiling at?â€? I asked, not really wanting an answer. “What’s your name anyway?â€?

“You can call me Hunter.â€?

—-—
There we were—Kathryne, Aidan, and 15-year-old me—lying underneath the sun. A copy of The Wealth and Poverty of a Nation was left unread beside the pool. Sophomore me thought that some summer reading would be done while tanning at the pool. She thought wrong. The iron gate was clanging in the background of the loud splashing, laughter, and conversations. Hunter stood silently beside me as I admiringly watched every move of the trio. The three of them propped themselves against the side of the pool and one by one they came out of the water. A bottle of my strawberry smoothie was passed around and of course, as usual, Kathryne and Aidan were teasing me.