Countdown

Everyone treats summer like it’s some kind of paradise.

Me? I hate it.

It’s just months of blinding sun, sticky heat, neighbors revving up their lawnmowers at seven in the morning—and don’t get me started on the wasps. Seriously, what’s their actual purpose besides flying at your face and stinging you for no reason? I’m perfectly content with counting down the days until this sweltering nightmare ends.

I lay sprawled out in the living room, staring up at the ceiling. Moving around was a bad idea since every time I shifted, my skin painfully unglued itself from the floorboards. The lights were off, the blinds pulled down into the windowsill to keep out the glare, and the cheap box fan sat a few inches from my face, whirring like a dying tractor. It was the first week of June, yet the rental house was a brick oven.

Can this day get any worse?

Right on cue, the floorboards rattled down the hall.

“Haelyn!”

I closed my eyes and groaned into the carpet. I really need to stop jinxing myself.

The loud slapping of flip-flops stopped right at the edge of the room. I opened one eye. Maya was towering over me, blocking out the only decent draft coming from the fan. She had that huge grin on her face that either meant she wanted to “borrow” twenty dollars or had found a new way of ruining my day.

“No,” I said before she could even make a sound.

Her smile stretched. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna ask.”

“You’re literally wearing a swimsuit under your clothes.”

She froze, glancing down at the neon pink strap sticking out from the collar of her oversized shirt. She slapped her hand over it as she’d just been caught smuggling contraband. “Okay, and? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything, Maya. Now get outta my hair.”

“Whatever. Mom said you have to drive me to the pool.”

I stared at her and waited for the punchline. The fan clicked and rotated its plastic face away from me, blowing a useless gust of air down the empty hall.

“Mom wouldn’t do that to me,” I muttered.

“Well, the AC guy can’t come until tomorrow,” she said, nudging my ankle with her flip-flop. “And Mom said if you’re just gonna lie around like a corpse all day, you might as well do it outside.”

She yanked a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of her pocket. “Plus, I have a summer bucket list. The first thing is the high dive. So get ready!”

——

Ten minutes later, I was buckled into a sedan that felt like the inside of a microwave, driving my sister toward the community pool. The place was my version of hell. The second you opened the car doors, you were hit with a wall of humidity that smelled like concession stand food and straight chlorine.

I dragged myself through the gates, found a plastic lounge chair in a sliver of shade, and immediately regretted sitting in it. The plastic was hot enough to melt clothes, and within seconds, the backs of my thighs were glued to the slats. I pulled my cap and glasses down, crossed my arms, and tried to look as aggressive and unapproachable as possible.

“Alright, go be chaotic,” I said, shooing Maya off. “But if you cause a scene and make people look over here, I’m pretending I don’t know you.”

“I’m going to the deep end!” she yelled over the screaming toddlers, already bolting toward the diving boards.

I shut my eyes, trying to pretend I was in a snowdrift. I got about four minutes of peace before a sharp, deafening whistle blasted straight through my skull.

TWEEEEEEET.

I ignored it.

TWEEEEEEET.

It was closer this time. A shadow fell over my chair, completely blocking out the little bit of heat bleeding through my cap. I peeked out from under the brim in annoyance, wondering who the hell was ruining my summer-free dream.

A guy in red trunks stood there, a whistle hanging from his neck. He had warm brown skin, thick curls, and hazel eyes that glowed in the sun. A small nick cut through his left brow, and somehow, in 95 degree heat, he looked calm enough to be bored.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was way too relaxed for 95 degrees. “Is that your kid up there?”

I sat up, pushing my cap back, and looked toward the deep end. Maya was at the very top of the high dive ladder, but she wasn’t jumping. Instead, she had somehow wedged her flip-flop between the metal rungs and was currently trying to kick it free, holding up a line of about ten furious kids yelling at her from below.

I sighed and dropped my head back against the plastic chair. “Yeah, I share DNA with her, but I don’t endorse her lifestyle choices. Can you just use a long pole to push her in?”

The guy’s bored expression cracked, his lips twisting into a lazy smile. It made his whole face look warm. “Pretty sure my certification covers saving lives, not committing sibling homicide.” He lifted his whistle and gestured toward the board. “Hey! Flip-Flops! Leave the shoe and climb down backward before you block the line all day!”

Maya glared at him, but she started her descent, leaving her one flip-flop stuck between the rungs like a balanced work of art.

“She seems like a handful.” The lifeguard looked back down at me. “And what about you? You’re wearing a long-sleeve shirt around your waist in this weather. You trying to pass out, or are you doing some sort of sweating workout thing?”

“I’m protecting myself from the sun,” I muttered, adjusting my sunglasses. “I hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that vibe.” His smile stayed put. “I’m Leo, by the way.”

I stared at him.

He lifted his brows. “That’s usually where the other person says their name.”

“Haelyn.”

“Haelyn,” he repeated, like he was testing it out. “Cool. See you around, Haelyn.”

“You mean against my will?”

“Most pool visits are.”

I tried not to smile as he backed out into the heat, already lifting the whistle again.

——

Our AC unit required a compressor part that had to be shipped across the state, meaning my mom basically exiled us to the pool every single afternoon. Maya spent her time terrorizing the snack bar and trying to hit people with foam noodles, so I ended up seeing Leo every single day.

The pool water wasn’t even refreshing. It was warm and thick, and if you sat near the edge, you spent half your time dodging dead bees and drowned hornets floating along the gutters. Maya didn’t mind the bugs, but she managed to misjudge a cannonball off the side and stubbed her toe on the concrete steps. She came limping back to my lounge chair, crying like she’d lost a limb.

Leo walked over from the main stand, dropping a small blue ice pack onto her foot. “If you stop treating the pool deck like a track meet, your toes will probably survive July.”

“She’s immune to logic,” I said, holding the cold pack against her skin.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Leo leaned his shoulder against the chain-link fence. He looked down at me, his hazel eyes squinting a bit against the glare. The shade from the awning had rolled back, and the breeze coming off the chlorine was starting to give me goosebumps. He walked over to his guard locker, pulled out an oversized gray sweatshirt, and threw it into my lap. “Here. Put this on before you get pneumonia.”

I shoved my arms through the thick sleeves. The heavy cotton smelled like laundry detergent and eucalyptus. “Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem,” he said, his mouth offering a warm, easy smile. “Don’t sweat it. Literally.”

——

By mid-July, I didn’t hate the drive to the pool anymore.

I still hated the bugs and the humidity, but I left the long-sleeve shirts in the car. I started sitting on the edge of the deep end, letting my bare feet dangle in the water while Leo sat in the elevated chair above me, spinning his red whistle lanyard around his index finger.

Between checking the water and keeping the toddlers in line, he only had time to talk in short sentences. I found out he was saving up for college, that he loved road trips, and that he actually liked the smell of charcoal smoke from neighborhood BBQs.

“You’re insane,” I told him one afternoon, leaning the back of my head against his metal ladder.

“I just like the vibes,” his voice floated down, slow and smooth. “Summer doesn’t last long. You gotta take the good stuff where you can find it.”

“There’s no good stuff. Just sweat.”

“What about sharing ice cream?”

“It melts in two seconds.”

“What about stargazing?”

“The mosquitoes eat you alive.”

“What about the drive-in?”

“Way too sticky.”

I heard his bare feet hit the concrete as he climbed down the rungs. His shift was over. He dropped onto the edge next to me, swinging his legs over the water. His shoulder leaned right against mine, making my stomach do a weird flip.

“So,” he started, his eyes locking onto mine, “what if I told you there’s a massive thunderstorm coming, the pool is closing early, and I have two firecracker pops hidden in the breakroom freezer?”

I looked up. The sky past the trees was turning a bruised purple, and a cool, sharp breeze swept across the water. The woods behind the fence smelled fresh and wet, and I could hear frogs starting to croak in the reeds.

“Are they melted?” I asked.

He grinned. “Only a little.”

We ate them perched on the tailgate in the empty lot, watching heavy raindrops hit the hot pavement. While Maya chilled inside my sedan listening to the radio, Leo and I sat out in the cool air, watching sticky juice drip down our wrists.

That night, I didn’t want the sun to go down.

——

The shift was so fast that I barely noticed it.

Suddenly, it was August. The days got shorter, all gold around the edges, and instead of counting down to fall, I started checking the clock every afternoon, wishing the sun would slow down.

I looked for Leo everywhere now. At the town festival. By the food trucks. At the pool gate before his shift. On the old flat roof of the pool house after closing, where we sat on a plaid blanket and watched fireworks crack open over the trees.

“Not a bad spot for a first date,” he teased, shifting his weight to lean more against me.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I said, though my heart was threatening to burst from my chest.

We stayed up there until midnight, talking about camping, road trips, hornets, and everything else. And for once, I forgot to hate the heat.

——

The next week, the reality crashed in.

We were sitting on his back patio deck after dark, watching the fireflies blink in the high grass. The air had a slight chill to it—the first real sign that August was running out of days.

“They’re running out of time,” Leo said softly, his eyes reflecting the tiny yellow lights in the yard. He looked down at his hands, his expression going back to that calm, almost bored look. “I’m gonna miss that sound.”

“What do you mean?”

“I got my college housing assignment today,” he explained, staring out at the dark lawn. “I gotta leave in a few weeks. The campus is about six hours away.”

My stomach sank at his words. “…Oh.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s coming up fast.”

I looked down at my bare feet. That old familiar survival instinct flared up immediately, telling me to go inside, pull down the blinds, and lock the door. See? the voice said. This is why you don’t leave the house. Summer ends. People leave. Everything melts. It’s better to stay cold and alone—

“Hey.”

Leo’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

He reached over, his warm fingers sliding under my chin to pull my face up until I had to look at him. His hazel eyes were bright under the porch light. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Go back into your cave. I can see your brain shutting down from here.”

“What’s the point?” I asked, my voice thin and cracked. “You’re leaving in less than three weeks. The pool closes. It gets freezing again. The whole thing was just a temporary distraction.”

Leo didn’t say anything for a while. Then he reached over, brushed a stray eyelash from my cheek, and kissed the spot where it had been. It was gentle and warm, over too fast and somehow not fast enough. He lingered for a moment before pulling back, his eyes softer than before.

“Just because it doesn’t last forever doesn’t mean it was a mistake.” His hand slid down to rest softly on my own. “You still have three weeks left, Haelyn. Don’t waste them hiding in the dark.”

I blinked, completely caught off guard, my face burning in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the heat wave. “But how?”

Leo’s slow grin returned. “Well, they say the easiest way to get out of the dark is to look at something beautiful. And lucky for you, my schedule is open for that.”

I couldn’t help but smile, burying my face into his t-shirt. “Shut up.”

——

The last few weeks became a blur of Maya’s bucket list. Leo joined us on his days off, completely embracing the chaos of my little sister’s antics. We went to the drive-in, the zoo, late-night campfires, and one backyard water balloon fight that left me soaked and laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

There were still mosquitoes, sticky seats, and Maya using pool floaties as weapons, but somehow, with Leo there, even the annoying parts didn’t feel so awful.

——

On August 21st, I stood in Leo’s driveway, watching his dad tie a mini-fridge to the back of his truck. The sun was rising over the trees, painting the sky pink and orange. Usually, I’d complain about being awake this early, but today I didn’t have the energy.

Maya stood beside me, holding the goodbye card she’d stayed up half the night making. It had crooked bees, flowers, and a giant sun across the front with Thank you for making my summer better! written in glitter pen.

Leo walked over wearing a plain gray T-shirt. Without the whistle around his neck and his sunglasses shoved into his curls, he looked less like the lifeguard I’d met in June and more like a college freshman about to disappear.

He took Maya’s card and gave her a high-five. “I’m definitely hanging this in my dorm.”

Maya puffed her chest out in pride. “You better! This is my best work yet.”

When she wandered off to help his dad with absolutely nothing, Leo looked back at me. He reached into his pocket and dropped something into my hand.

His whistle.

The red lanyard had faded almost completely pink.

“So…” he said. “Summer still the worst?”

I looked down at the whistle. “I still hate lawnmowers.”

He nodded.

“And the wasps.”

“Yeah, they’re evil.”

“But…” I smiled a little. “I don’t hate summer anymore.”

He smiled back. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Neither of us moved. His dad was tightening another strap on the truck. Maya had somehow started talking his ear off about whether dorms allowed pet frogs.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess…” He looked at me for a second before laughing under his breath. “I’ll see you next summer.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Why are you being dramatic? We exchanged numbers, remember?”

“I know.” He looked down at the driveway, then back at me. “I meant…actually see you.”

I blinked a few times, not able to hide the heat illuminating my cheeks. “…Oh.”

He smiled before pulling me into a huge hug. He smelled like eucalyptus and sunscreen, his thick curls brushing against my cheek. When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine.

“I’ll text you when I get there,” he said.

“You better.”

He laughed, squeezed my hand once, then climbed into the truck. As they backed out of the driveway, he rolled the window down.

“Bye, Haelyn!”

“Drive safe!”

“I will!”

Maya waved both arms over her head like she was directing airplanes until the truck disappeared around the corner.

When I walked back to my car, the morning air was already getting warmer.

“Haelyyyn,” Maya complained as she climbed into the passenger seat. “Put the windows down! It feels like a sauna in here.”

“Yeah. Give me a second.”

I started the engine and rolled both front windows down all the way. Hot air rushed inside, tossing my hair across my face. I slipped the faded pink lanyard over my head and let the whistle rest against my chest.

Maya glanced over. “It looks good on you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smirked. “You look less like a vampire.”

“Keep talking and you’re walking home.”

I pulled out of Leo’s driveway and onto the main road. The heat shimmered above the pavement. Cicadas buzzed from the trees, and the wind rushed through the open windows.

I’d spent the first week of June counting down the days until summer would end.

Now, I was counting down the months until it started all over again.