HAPPY PLACE ╱ CONRAD FISHER

THREE

HAPPY PLACE

~
Cousins, Massachusetts

It was times like these that made Charlie love living on the beach—coming in from an early morning surf after casually riding the waves underneath a pretty pink/orange glow of a slow-rising sun, the breeze rolling in and cooling him off as he dragged the tailfin of his board through the sand as he trekked back up to the house. It never got old. It was even more exciting when it was the beginning of summer and the Conklin and Fisher families were making their way up to start their vacation. During the school year, Conrad and Charlie would text back and forth nonstop, perfecting their beach town itinerary (even if they never fully stuck to the plan because they somehow always ended up going off book) before he would come up.

Unfortunately, this year, things seemed a little off, to say the least. Any time Charlie would text so they could go over the plan for this summer, he'd be met with a single-word reply, or worse—the like reaction. He's learned only to pry when he needed to, but the situation didn't feel dire enough for him to want to push Conrad into opening up, so he didn't. Instead, he slowly counted down the days until he'd eventually show.

"I hope you dried off before you came in," said Charlie's mother, Marie, "I don't want you tracking water all over the floor or else—"

"Yeah, yeah. The wood's gonna warp and make the house look ugly. I know, ma," Charlie droned on, setting his board aside before entering the kitchen and grabbing a Granny Smith apple from the fridge. 

"Do you know when the Fishers are coming up from Boston? I know how you and Conrad like to get a head start on your guys' bucket list even though I don't know how you manage to find things to do every summer."

Charlie checked his watch, his eyes widening as he saw the time. "Shit, they're actually coming in now. I gotta go."

"Shower!" Marie called after him as Charlie dashed up the stairs to change.

"That's a given!" Charlie called back before shutting the door to the bathroom and letting the water run. Marie couldn't help but shake her head in amusement as she went back to preparing her lunch for later.

     It was obvious to everyone how Charlie and Conrad were practically bound to be attached at the hip the morning they first met. Hell, even Susannah considered it destiny that the two were meant to be the best of friends, the same way she was certain that Belly was destined to end up with either Fisher brother, like she was a fairy godmother of sorts making wishes come true. It was almost as if anything could happen when Charlie ended up within distance of the house with the buttercream exterior.

As Charlie rounded the corner to get up the driveway, the Conklins were stepping out of their car and everyone was meeting everyone else as Susannah descended the front steps of the house. Jeremiah wasn't too far behind as scooped Belly into a hug. Out of Charlie's peripheral, he could see Conrad walking out from the back gate, looking as sullen as ever in a gray zip-up hoodie and cargo shorts, his head low. Charlie put his car in park, cranked back his emergency brake, and got out, his door slamming shut grabbing everyone's attention.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" Jeremiah was the first to say something as Charlie walked up the driveway, pulling Jeremiah into a one-armed hug. "Good to see you, bro!"

"Right back atcha, dude," Charlie replied, pulling away to say hi to Laurel and Steven before stopping at Belly, who seemed to have grown another inch the last time they were here. "Tinker Bell, you've gotta stop growing or you're gonna end up taller than me."

"I don't think that's possible, dude. You're, like, six-foot," Belly retorted, yelping at Charlie giving her a surprise noogie.

"Six-foot-one, last time I checked," Conrad finally piped up, meeting up with the rest of them and stopping in front of Charlie. "At least, that's what the doorframe says." He propped up a sheepish smile, hoping that he was passing for at least content.