The summer before sophomore year was their last in the small town they had once called everything. It was a season soaked in nostalgia, every moment tinged with the knowledge that change was just around the corner. They returned to the lake house one final time - a tradition they'd kept with their closest friends since they were teenagers. A last hurrah before everyone scattered again, pulled in different directions by the gravity of adulthood and dreams too big to stay still.
Days passed in a blur of sunburnt shoulders and shared beers, of laughter echoing off the dock and lazy swims in the glittering water. But the nights - those were sacred. They gathered around crackling campfires, telling stories, daring each other into skinny dipping beneath a moonlit sky. The air always smelled like smoke and pine, and Jessica would lean into Molly, whispering secrets meant only for her. Things that made Molly's heart race and her skin flush in the darkness. And when Molly kissed her, it felt like being sixteen again - when kisses felt like promises, and the world was nothing but wide open roads and endless possibilities.
One night, they stayed up talking until the first pink light of dawn bled across the horizon. Wrapped in a blanket on the deck, the world hushed around them, Jessica's voice broke the silence.
"What if this doesn't last?" she asked, eyes focused on the horizon as if the question might disappear with the sunrise.
Molly looked at her for a long moment, heart aching at the vulnerability in Jessica's voice. She reached out, her thumb brushing across Jessica's cheek, grounding them both. "Then we had this," she said softly. "And that's something no one can take away."
Jessica turned to her, eyes shining. "But I want more than just this," she whispered, the words catching in her throat - raw and real and terrifying.
Molly pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead like a vow. "Then we'll keep choosing each other," she said, her voice steady, sure.
And somehow, despite the distance, despite the changes, despite the uncertainty of growing up and growing older - they did. Over and over again, in big ways and small, they chose each other.
Days passed in a blur of sunburnt shoulders and shared beers, of laughter echoing off the dock and lazy swims in the glittering water. But the nights - those were sacred. They gathered around crackling campfires, telling stories, daring each other into skinny dipping beneath a moonlit sky. The air always smelled like smoke and pine, and Jessica would lean into Molly, whispering secrets meant only for her. Things that made Molly's heart race and her skin flush in the darkness. And when Molly kissed her, it felt like being sixteen again - when kisses felt like promises, and the world was nothing but wide open roads and endless possibilities.
One night, they stayed up talking until the first pink light of dawn bled across the horizon. Wrapped in a blanket on the deck, the world hushed around them, Jessica's voice broke the silence.
"What if this doesn't last?" she asked, eyes focused on the horizon as if the question might disappear with the sunrise.
Molly looked at her for a long moment, heart aching at the vulnerability in Jessica's voice. She reached out, her thumb brushing across Jessica's cheek, grounding them both. "Then we had this," she said softly. "And that's something no one can take away."
Jessica turned to her, eyes shining. "But I want more than just this," she whispered, the words catching in her throat - raw and real and terrifying.
Molly pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead like a vow. "Then we'll keep choosing each other," she said, her voice steady, sure.
And somehow, despite the distance, despite the changes, despite the uncertainty of growing up and growing older - they did. Over and over again, in big ways and small, they chose each other.
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