DECEMBER
Leaving a trail of water in her wake, Stella—soft towel tightly wrapped around her—flies through the wide rectangular doorway separating the showers from the rest of the locker room. She glides across the floors, and then, quite literally, jumps over the bench stood between two rows of lockers, her hand already already reaching out for the wooden door of her own.
"God," Sophie—her teammate and friend—mutters, following her tracks, her feet tucked into a pair of gray terrycloth slippers. "Where's the fire?"
Hannah shoots them a look through the mirror stretched along the wall, digging through her cosmetics' case as her lips slip into a knowing smile. "Jake's visiting this weekend."
"Jake?!" Comes a third voice—Sienna—from inside the showers. "The Jake?"
Stella's lips tug into a faint smile as she shimmies into her underwear. "One and only."
Next to her, Miya gets her locker open. "I was beginning to think you made him up," She says, bending at the waist as she runs her hands through her dark hair. "You know, in the my Canadian boyfriend way, you know?"
Letting out a chortled breath, Stella slips into her t-shirt and shoots her friend a look. "I'm deeply hurt. And he's not even Canadian, so."
Miya simply shrugs.
"He's very real," Hannah confirms, mouth pursed in concentration as she regards her own reflection. "I've overheard them talking on FaceTime. It was very sweet."
Then—turning to look at the other girls—she pulls a pointed, disgusted grimace.
And Stella, as the mature adult she is, shoots a rubber hair-tie her way—lips slipping into a satisfied smile as it hits Hannah in the dip between her collarbones. "You're acting like I don't spend my days listening to you going on and on and on about Amira."
Hannah tosses the hair-tie back, rubbing the heel of her palm over her skin. "Shut up."
Stella rolls her eyes, sliding into her jean-culottes—bouncing onto her toes as she zips them closed at waist—and grabs her phone from where it lies atop the shelf in her locker. Instantly, the beat of her heart quickens, smile widening, cheeks flushing warm as the device lights up with an influx of text messages.
'Jake'
Winter is not supposed to be this warm.
Is that the sun??
Okay, I'm on my way.
Pretty sure the taxi driver is breaking the speed limit.
Yeah we're definitely breaking the speed limit.
Made it to campus. Are you still at practice?
I guess you are.
Found a coffee cart.
I got lost.
Never mind.
Eyes still on the screen, Stella rolls her lips together—a familiar flutter wrapping around her heart—as it truly hits her: she's seeing Jake today. In a matter of minutes. He's here.
This is his first time visiting her. And it's the fourth time they're spending actual, physical time with each other since this summer.
He met up with her in Connecticut, a steady shoulder to hold onto during her days testifying in court. She's been to Boston to see him once—a short trip at the end of October. Then, again, at her moms' place two weeks ago as their families decided to celebrate Thanksgiving together.
Sometimes, long-distance is hell. But somehow, they make it work.
They talk over the phone. Some weeks, when they're both knee-deep into their separate tasks, days pass between their calls. Other times, they speak several times a day; sometimes they stay on for hours, even if they don't really have anything to say, simply settling for "I miss your voice" or "What did you have to eat today?".
Due to the three-hour time difference, sometimes he answers her calls through a yawn. But he always picks up the phone, and she does too. They humor one another as they speak of the big nothings, their voices growing solemn as they reach the small somethings.
They talk about anything really—her swim practices, his lectures, the future—, she simply enjoys listening to his voice and his thoughts.
She's known Jake for the bigger part of her life, yet there's so much she doesn't know. And, when it comes to Jake, she wants to know everything. Even if it means sometimes staying up far too late for the both of them, knowing they'll be tired in the morning.
And though she often finds herself sat thinking about him, missing him, she likes it here; she lucked out. She's made good friends in some of her classmates as well as her teammates, especially the four girls she's surrounded by now.
She's made an even better friend out of her roommate, Amira. Though Stella's worried her abdominal muscles are going to take a hit if the two of them don't figure out a way to not always end up on the floor together—whether they're at home, in the library or at a party—, clutching their stomachs, giggling like a pair of school girls.
Yeah, she thinks to herself, glancing around the room: this may not be her forever home, nor the lake house, but she's found a sense of peace here.
She's just about to put her phone away, reaching for her cherry chapstick, as the device vibrates with yet another text.
I'm out front.
Barely able to contain herself, Stella lets out a low, excited squeal—having Miya scowl as the rest of their friends snap their necks in Stella's direction, lips twitching in their amusement.
Tossing her towel across the room, more-or-less hitting the laundry basket, Stella doesn't bother to blow dry her hair. Slipping into her sandals while in motion—already heading for the door—she swings her bag over her shoulder and pushes her phone into her pocket, calling out a hurried, "See you!"
Sienna—just stepping out of the showers—hairbrush clutched in her hand, shoots her a grin. "Don't forget to use protection!"
Stella, pushing the door open, simply flips her off.
She practically bounds down the hall of the natatorium, the click of her soles against the hard stone floor echoing between the high walls. Throwing another door open, she half-runs through the reception area—narrowly saving herself from colliding with two boys walking the other way.
Then, stepping out through the wide entrance door—entirely made out of glass—, the warm wind blowing her still damp hair, her breath catches in her throat.
There, leant back against the Valley Oak tree stood before the campus's aquatic building, he is.
Dark curls. Tan skin. Black t-shirt. Mouth resting in that familiar upward tilt.
Cheeks rounding with her smile, Stella cannot help the skip in her step as she walks down the stairs. "Are you waiting for someone?"
Jake's head snaps up at the sound of her voice and for someone who's always smiling, Stella still—to this day—has to catch herself from stumbling over her own feet, or words, as he flashes her that smile. The rare one. The unguarded one. The knee-buckling one. For her eyes, and her eyes only.
She exhales in relief as she melts into his embrace, her arms twirling tight around his neck—letting out a chortled breath as he holds her even closer.
"I'm so glad you're here," She breathes, her damp hair sticking to her cheeks as she presses her face to his shoulder—relishing in being swept into his familiar, comforting, intoxicatingly fragrant warmth. "I've missed you."
"That was supposed to be my line," Jake mumbles against her temple, pressing a gentle kiss to her head and then, inching back, to her lips.
Stella's about to cry out in wild protest as he steps back, but the words die on her tongue as soon as he presents her with a KitKat bar.
"Figured you could use a snack."
Beaming, Stella breaks into the glossy wrapper. "See," She says through a mouthful of chocolate as Jake wraps his arm around her shoulders. "This is why I love you."
Even out of the corner of her eye, she notices the upward tug of Jake's lips—only causing her own smile to widen further.
"So," Jake begins, relieving Stella of her bag as they steer their way across campus. "What's the plan?"
"About that..." Stella takes another bite of the chocolate, turning her head to look at Jake with a sheepish twitch to her cheeks. "I've always been under the impression I'm good at managing my time but I kind of, really, have to get some studying done. Not all weekend, but at least tonight."
"Well, luckily for you—I make great flash cards."
Stella bites down lightly on her lip. "Are you sure you won't mind?"
"Of course not," Jake's brows etch together ever so slightly. "We'll order in, make a thing of it; it'll be fun."
"Thank you."
"I'm just glad to be spending time with you," Jake gently points his finger into her shoulder with a small smile. "I don't care how we spend it."
"Well in that case, maybe tomorrow we could take care of my laundry?"
"Funny."
A hint of a satisfied smirk tugs at Stella's smile. "I know, right?"
Then—letting out a long, overdue exhale, she squints up at Jake again. The curl of her lips softens as she wraps her arm around his waist, leaning into his embrace.
"I really am so glad you're here."