Archive of Our Own ^beta

Calum doesn’t do love. Not like in an edgy emo I’m-too-fucked-up-to-love kind of way. More like in a relationships-seem-complicated-and-I-am-lazy-by-nature kind of way. He didn’t have time in high school between classes, soccer, and the band to think about dating. Also, he was way too fucking awkward and into Wheatus to be considered boyfriend material. And sometimes he wore flip-flops with skinny jeans to school. Unironically. 

When he started college, his fashion sense wised up, but free time did not magically appear. Turns out, college is hard. He’d much rather spend his precious weekend minutes playing bass or passing out in some random frat house than putting time and energy into another human being. Sounds fucking exhausting. 

This isn’t to say he’s never had physical relationships before. He definitely has. Wearing the proper shoe and pant combo significantly upped his game, among other things. But those have all been low-maintenance affairs. He’s never let himself browse the romance department because just the thought of it has always been too overwhelming. 

But now it’s summer, and Calum is at his grandparents’ cabin at the lake with his sister and his dog. Summer at the cabin exists in a specific pocket of space time shrouded in warm golden tones wrapped in a cool breeze. 

The rules are all different here. You can wear a swimsuit everywhere. You can consume as much ice cream as you want without gaining any weight. You can swim in the lake and then sit on the couch to watch TV without showering like a crusty bog monster. But the most notable rule that the lake magically renders obsolete is the one Calum’s made with himself: no mushy feelings. 

Because summer at the lake means spending a lot of time on his grandpa’s boat. And spending a lot of time on his grandpa’s boat means frequent visits to the Petro dock to refuel. And visiting the Petro dock means seeing Luke Hemmings. 

Luke Hemmings has been breaking Calum’s self-made anti-romance rule every summer since the seventh grade. Simply put, he’s the most beautiful person Calum’s ever seen. Calum thought so when he was thirteen, and a whole high school and a half college career later, he still thinks that. But Luke’s curly blond hair, ocean eyes, and skyscraper legs are only half the appeal. 

What makes Luke Hemmings the perfect boy to simp for is his sense of humor that swings unpredictably between chemistry textbook dry and flavor-blasted Goldfish cheesy. Actually, Calum’s not sure if it qualifies as a sense, because he can’t tell if Luke does it on purpose. He always looks just as confused about the things that come out of his mouth as everyone else. It’s enthralling. Calum can’t figure him out. How can Luke just say things he’s not sure about? Absolute insanity. 

Since he just turned twenty one, Calum’s allowed to take the boat out on his own. It’s a twenty-foot-long bright red speed boat with a Yamaha engine that sounds like an army of lawnmowers. It has OLD CHUCK painted in giant block letters on the hull. Calum has never felt cooler in his entire life. 

He wouldn’t say that he’s abusing his power, but he’s certainly making the most of it as he speeds toward the Petro dock going thirty knots. What? He needs fuel because he and Mali went inner tubing yesterday. Calum pulls back the throttle and slows as he enters the no wake zone bordering the dock. So maybe it happens to be late morning, right before the lunch time shift change, which means—

The dock house door flies open and a boy comes bouncing out. 

“Another day, another dollar!” Luke hollers. He’s wearing giant aviators, board shorts, and a life vest, even though he was just indoors, and the water around the petro dock is six feet deep, at most. Calum cracks a smile. Luke beams back with enough force to burn Calum’s retinas. 

God, he’s gorgeous. 

Calum’s so busy staring he barely remembers to grab the line coiled next to him and toss it to Luke so he can tie the boat to the dock. Luke catches it with ease, crouches down, and breaks the world record for fastest cleat hitch. It’s extremely hot. Calum stares holes into Luke’s hands. 

“Hiya, Hood,” Luke says, straightening up. He’s still smiling like he’s modeling for a Colgate commercial. With the boat securely tied to the dock, Calum is close enough to count the moles on Luke’s very toned arms and the curls around his ears. He smells like sunscreen and something else that Calum can only describe as Summer. If Calum had a candle with this scent he’d probably try to eat it. 

“Hey,” Calum says, immediately feeling lame. Uber-smooth. Cool Guy Cal, coming in hot. 

“How much juice would you like today?” Luke is holding the gas nozzle like it’s a gun and he’s in Charlie’s Angels. 

Calum blinks. Juice? What the fuck. 

“I don’t need any,” Calum says. “But Old Chuck here could use about twenty.”

“Good move. This stuff does not taste as good as it smells,” Luke says, nodding seriously. “Twenty gallons, coming right up, Old Chuck.” 

“Hang on,” Calum says, opening the gas cap near the stern and taking the nozzle Luke passes him. “Did you just imply that not only do you actually like the smell of gasoline, but you’ve willingly ingested it?”

Calum can feel Luke’s incredulous stare even from behind those blasted aviators. Calum kind of wishes he’d take them off. But then, if he saw Luke’s stupidly pretty eyes right now, he'd probably spill gasoline everywhere and somehow manage to light the whole dock on fire.

“Mate, I’ve been working here every summer for like ten years.” Luke leans back against the ticking gas kiosk and rests his hands on the collar of his life vest. He’s shirtless underneath it. Calum’s grip on the gas nozzle is turning sweaty. “The smell of gasoline is like freshly-baked cookies. If Starbucks made a gasoline frappuccino, I’d never drink anything else ever again.”

Calum wrinkles his nose. Maybe Luke is not the man for him. That’s disgusting. 

“That’s disgusting. And you only answered half my question.”

“Hey, don’t yuck my yum.” 

“Gasoline does not count as yum. Tell me you have not actually drank gasoline. Drank? Drunk. Drinked? Fuck, nevermind.” Calum is never speaking again. 

Luke snickers. “I can neither confirm nor deny.” He pulls his aviators down his nose and winks. 

“Oh my God,” Calum says, hoping the color he can feel flooding his face passes as sunburn. How dare he feel this way about a boy. Reprehensible. The gasoline kiosk shuts off with a loud click. 

“That’s twenty on the money!” Luke turns and messes with some buttons on the kiosk while Calum closes the gas cap. “Alright, in we go,” Luke says, and Calum steps up onto the dock so he can follow Luke into the dock house to pay. 

Luke yanks the door open, and Calum’s ears are immediately assaulted by I Want It That Way . The dock house looks like the inside of a Vineyard Vines if it were used as a safe house in a zombie apocalypse. It has a little counter along the right wall with a cash register from an archeological dig in the 80s and a concerningly long line of hula dancing bobbleheads. 

In the back of the room, at a little collapsible picnic table covered in pictures of Barney the dinosaur, two guys are playing an intense game of Egyptian War. A loud bang echoes through the room as they slam their hands on the table at the same time. 

“NO!” the guy with bleached fringe wails. 

“Suck my dick!” The other guy wearing a horrendous purple muscle tank stands and throws his hands in the air. 

Mike and Ash, Luke’s best friends, and the two most obnoxious people Calum’s ever met. Possibly they’ve been working at the dock as long as Luke, but Calum’s not sure. Luke kind of takes up all his attention. 

“Hey!” Luke says sharply, walking around the counter. He pushes his sunglasses onto his forehead, making his curls stick up everywhere. He sends the boys a dirty look. “We’ve got a customer, you fuckin’ hooligans.” 

“Oh shit,” says Mike. He blinks at Calum like he’s never seen another human being before. 

“Think you can beat me at War?” Ash asks Calum. He’s got a slightly manic gleam in his eye. Just then, the playlist switches from Backstreet Boys to One Direction. The cowbell in What Makes You Beautiful has never been more distracting. 

“Uhh,” says Calum. Fuck, this is overwhelming. “Maybe?” 

“Leave Calum alone, Ash,” Luke says, not looking up from the register. 

“Calum?!” 

Mike is staring at Calum with raised eyebrows. He looks Calum up and down a couple times, and gives a nod of what might be approval. 

“You were right, Luke,” he says. “He got hotter.”

Calum’s skin lights up like fireworks. The sound echoes in his ears. Luke called him hot? Like, to his friends, behind Calum’s back? Is this a gasoline fume induced hallucination? Luke sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“No hitting on customers, Michael.”

Michael looks offended. “You started it.”

“I did not!”

“Yeah you did! Yesterday you said that you wanted to—”

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP!” Luke shouts, eyes going wide. Ash busts out laughing. Michael raises his voice over Ash’s maniacal cackling. 

“—YOU WANTED TO SUCK—” 

— Baby, you light up my wo —

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

Luke picks up the nearest bobblehead and chucks it at Michael, who shrieks and ducks. 

“Violence is not the answer, Lucas!”

“I’m gonna switch your schedule and put you with Smelly Dan!”

Michael blinks a couple times and then narrows his eyes at Luke. “I don’t take threats from people who dress like randomized Sims.”

“You’re dressed like a colorblind frat boy.” 

Michael adjusts his maroon snapback. “Fuck off.”

Luke clears his throat and turns back to Calum calmly. “Sorry about that. Your total is sixty dollars.” 

Calum feels like he’s just watched a circus routine. His head is on a merry-go-round. He so, so badly wants to ask what Luke wants to suck, but he doesn’t have the guts to say anything with Tweedledee and Tweedledum still watching them. So he pays for his gas in silence.

“I’ll walk you back,” Luke says, coming back around the counter. Calum hears Michael say something to Ash that makes them both snicker. Luke doesn’t even blink in their direction as he pushes out the door. 

It’s gotten impossibly warmer during the time they were inside, and more humid. Stepping outside in a midwestern summer is like walking into a giant mouth. Calum feels like he’s swimming through the air. 

Luke uncleats the bowline while Calum undoes the stern. When Calum returns to the helm and reaches out to take the bowline from Luke, he just stands there looking down at the rope in his hands, frozen in place. 

“Uh, Luke? Could you pass me the bowline?”

“Um, I was just wondering,” Luke starts, and Calum’s stomach drops through the bottom of the boat into the lake. This is it. Luke totally knows Calum’s got a stupid fucking crush on him and he’s about to call him out and it’s going to be so embarrassing and oh, my God, Calum can never come back here again he’s going to have to drown himself in the lake— “if you, like, maybe wanted to come over later?”

Record scratch, freeze frame. What?

“What, like, back to the Petro dock?”

Calum’s pretty sure Luke doesn’t mean the Petro dock. He certainly fucking hopes not. But Calum is not about to make a fool of himself. He needs Luke to be explicit. Not that kind of explicit. Unless—

“No! No, like, to my house.” Calum’s stomach rockets back up through his feet. Luke is fiddling with the bowline, still staring at it like it’s supremely interesting. “We’ve got a couple of kayaks, and I haven’t been over to the island in a while, and I thought, I dunno, maybe you’d wanna come with?”

“I— yeah,” Calum says. He thinks he might have ascended to heaven. “Yeah, I love the island. I haven’t checked it out this year. That sounds fun.” 

Calum thinks that maybe his attempt to appear chill backfired and made him sound disinterested, but when Luke finally meets Calum’s gaze, he’s grinning. It’s a little softer than usual. 

“Okay, cool,” he says. His sunglasses are still up on his head. His eyes are positively sparkling. Calum feels vaguely nauseous. “I get off at four. I can pick you up right after?”

“Sure, yeah, awesome,” Calum says. Words are not coming very easily. His brain is saying hnnnnnnnnng . 

“Awesome,” Luke echoes. He tosses the bowline onto the seat next to Calum. “See you then, Cal.”

Hearing Luke call him a nickname erases any and all traces of the English language from Calum’s brain. He makes some sort of odd affirmative noise and quickly starts the engine to cover it up. Luke watches Calum back away from the dock and waves as he leaves. 

Okay. So, after literal years of crushing on this guy and having very minimal interaction, Calum has somehow gotten himself invited over to Luke’s house. This is fine. It probably doesn’t mean anything. And, like, if it does, maybe they’ll just hook up, and it’ll be a one and done type deal. As soon as he thinks that, his mouth tastes sour. 

The thing is, he kind of likes Luke, more than he’s ever liked any of his college hook-ups. It’s just never been an issue, because he’s never actually hung out with Luke. Calum’s been building up this illusion of Luke Hemmings around the few jokes they’ve shared over the years at the Petro dock. 

Luke’s never been an attainable person before. Now, Calum has to be careful. He just has to hope that Luke isn’t as perfect as the vision Calum’s got in his head. It’ll be fine. No one’s perfect. Once Calum figures out Luke’s fatal flaw, he can hyperfocus on that to shake off this dumb crush, and then he can finally move on with his life. And he and Luke can just be friends. 

Or maybe hanging out with Luke will be loads of fun and kayaking to the island will be an epic adventure and Calum will be royally fucked. But what are the odds of that?

***

Calum’s skin is melding with the cool leather couch. He’s got a Klondike bar in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other. His dog, Duke, is napping on the carpet beside him. The old wooden ceiling fan is turning lazily above, accurately reflecting Calum’s mood. 

Life is good. 

“So,” says Mali-Koa, wandering into the room with a tupperware full of grapes. “You fuck Luke Hemmings yet?”

Calum deep-throats his Klondike in surprise. Fucking what? “No, what the fuck?” 

“Well, why not?” She pops a grape into her mouth and chews aggressively without breaking eye contact. Leave it to Mali to ruin a perfectly pleasant afternoon. Calum feels himself starting to sweat. 

“I— what makes you think I want to— what?” He is so thrown off right now. Mali noticed? Is he that obvious? Holy shit, does that mean Luke has noticed? Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

Mali-Koa rolls her eyes so hard that Calum gets dizzy. “You’ve only been making eyes at him for literal years, and now you’re finally old enough to do something about it.”

“Finally old enough to— Mals, I’m twenty-one, I’ve been—”

Mali-Koa chucks a grape at Calum. It pings off his forehead and falls into his lap. He eats it. 

“Shut the fuck up,” she says. “You’re a child. Anyways, as I was saying, you’re finally old enough to make a move! You have the boat! Do something!”

Calum groans loudly and throws his head back like Mali’s just told him to do the dishes. “You know I don’t date!”

“Who said anything about dating? I was saying you should just— hang on,” she cuts herself off. A shit-eating grin creeps across her face. 

“No,” Calum says, sitting upright, heart rate skyrocketing. He’s just fucking snitched on himself. “Mali, no—”

“Holy fuck, you totally want to date him!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Calum! The Hemmings boy is asking for you!” Calum’s grandma’s voice carries in from the front porch. 

Ah, shit. Mali smirks at him. 

“I hate you,” Calum says, peeling himself off the couch. 

Mali-Koa grins. “Love you! Have fun! Use protection!”

Calum flips her off as he slides on his shoes. His grandma is putting up Fourth of July decorations across the yard, and Calum gives her a wave as he walks down the driveway. Luke is captaining a golf cart, aviators back in place, and Michael’s snapback on backwards. His life jacket has been exchanged for a Blink-182 t-shirt. 

“Get in loser, we’re going kayaking!” 

Calum snickers. “Really? Mean Girls ?” Calum loves Mean Girls . 

“Fuck yeah, Mean Girls ,” Luke says. Is this kid ever not smiling? He has dimples. A crime. 

“You’d make a good Regina,” Calum says, sliding in next to Luke. 

“Obviously,” Luke says. “I’m hot and blond.” He cranks the steering wheel around and floors the gas pedal through the U-turn. Calum’s life flashes before his eyes. 

“Who am I, then?” Calum asks, trying to subtly hold on for dear life and not fall out of the golf cart. Jesus Christ. 

“Janice, obviously,” Luke says. He pulls onto the main lake road at full speed without checking his blind spot. “Have you read the thing about Regina and Janice being secretly in love?”

Calum nearly chokes on his own spit.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Luke says brightly, like Calum’s not just almost died right next to him. “Like, Regina lashed out at Janice in middle school because she was secretly into her and didn’t know how to handle her feelings, or whatever. And Janice got upset because she liked Regina back, and that’s why she hated her so much. Because she actually was gay for her. Makes sense to me.”

“I mean—” Calum clears his throat. “I guess so. Why not. Gay rights.”

“Fuck yeah, gay rights!”

Calum laughs, and then Luke laughs with a little squeak at the end that Calum mentally catalogues as his New Favorite Sound. They lapse into a comfortable silence that only lasts a couple minutes, because then Luke is once again violently whipping the golf cart into his own driveway. 

“Christ, Lucas,” Calum says, clutching the edge of the seat. “Do you always drive like you’re in GTA?”

Luke throws his head back and cackles, loud and squeaky. Why is he so squeaky? More importantly, why does Calum find it so endearing? Fuck! He’s supposed to be trying to like Luke less, not more. 

“Yes,” Luke says, finally catching his breath. “Driving is boring, so I try to get it over with as quickly as possible. Which means flooring it.” 

“Okay, but consider this,” Calum says. “You might die.”

“Part of the thrill, baby.” Luke puts the golf cart in park and climbs out, leaving Calum to try and bring his brain back online after being called baby. 

He swings his legs around like a zombie and slides out of the cart. The jolt of the ground brings him forcibly back into his body. Luke is waiting for him, and his eyes aren’t visible behind his sunglasses, but he’s got a crooked smirk that suggests he might have an inkling of what Calum is thinking. Which is terrifying. Because Calum himself barely knows what he’s thinking. 

Calum follows Luke around the side of the house into the backyard. A dark stained wooden staircase zig-zags down the hill to a little dock that runs along the length of the property at the water’s edge. A pontoon boat bobs under a second story deck with a seating area full of chairs and a fire pit that looks insanely comfortable. 

Out in the water just beyond the dock are a couple of blond boys in a bright green kayak. Well, one of them is in the kayak. He’s crouching awkwardly in the middle and desperately gripping the edges, while the other pushes and pulls on one of the sides, rocking the boat in a solid attempt at sabotage. 

Luke sighs deeply. He’s wearing the same expression he had on back in the dock house with Mike and Ash. 

“Hey! Jack, Ben! I need that boat!”

“No!” shouts the crouching kid, before promptly being launched into the water. He surfaces, spluttering, climbs on top of the other guy, and starts trying to push his head underwater. 

“Jesus Christ,” Luke mutters. “Hey, assholes!” he raises his voice again. “I told you I needed the kayaks after work! Give it back!” 

The sound of splashing stops as JackorBen pauses his assault to finally address Luke. “Come and get it then!”

“No! Come on, don’t be an ass.” Luke is getting kind of worked up. His jaw is tensing and his eyes are angry and his fists are clenching at his sides. It’s doing things to Calum that it definitely should not be. This should not be attractive in the slightest. Luke is throwing a temper tantrum over kayaks, and Calum wants to kiss him. Oh my God, what? 

“Just take the blue one! It’s a two-person!”

“Yeah, but— dammit.” Luke huffs, and Calum realizes he’s genuinely upset.

“Hey, we can share,” Calum says. He doesn’t want Luke actually having a breakdown. “It’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Luke looks shocked. “You don’t mind being, like, that close to me?”

“I— what? No, dude.” He would like to be so, so much closer. These are not the thoughts of someone who is supposed to be falling out of love. Crush. Whatever. “Should I mind?” 

Luke cracks a grin and his shoulders drop four inches. “Yeah, I’m dangerous.”

“What, do you bite?” Calum realizes too late how that sounds. Luke’s grin seems to sharpen, and Calum starts blushing preemptively.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Luke says, and winks at Calum for the second time that day. 

“Ugh, gross,” Calum says, but it comes out way too weak to be convincing. 

Luckily, Luke takes mercy on him, but as he turns away, Calum sees the same smirk from earlier. Fuck. They haven’t even gotten on the water yet and Calum is already failing miserably at shaking this crush. It’s okay, though, there’s still time. Maybe Luke will be really bad at kayaking and it will be a massive turn-off. 

***

Luke is really bad at kayaking. He has no sense of rhythm, so their unsynchronized paddles keep smacking together. Even though he let Calum sit in the back and be in charge of steering, Luke keeps paddling too hard on the right, so they keep drifting left. 

“Oh my God, Luke,” Calum says, barely containing his laughter. “You gotta— we gotta get in sync.”

“NSYNC?” Luke flails his paddle around above the water. He’s not even looking at Calum, but his smile is audible. 

“Fucking— no!” Calum says, nearly dying with how hard he’s trying not to laugh. “In sync! We have to paddle in sync, we’re going in fucking circles.”

“What’s wrong with circles?”

Calum’s smile is splitting his face. Luke is fucking annoying. Calum likes it. Calum likes Luke. Fuck. 

“Aren’t we trying to get to the island?”

Luke stills his paddle. “Yeah.”

“We can’t get there by going in circles.”

Silence falls for three seconds, and then Luke breaks it with an exasperated sigh, like he’s been the reasonable one all along. 

“Fine, I guess you’re right. Tally ho then, and heave to. We must make haste.” Luke starts paddling with long swift strokes that abruptly start to propel them though the water. Calum is captivated by the way Luke’s shoulders flex under his t-shirt. Also, what the fuck? 

“What the fuck?” Calum says, sounding disgustingly delighted to his own ears. He starts tentatively paddling in tandem with Luke, and the kayak picks up even more speed. “I can’t believe you just gaslit me into thinking you couldn’t kayak.”

“What, did you really think I would invite you to do something I couldn’t do and embarrass myself?” Luke laughs over his shoulder. 

Calum thinks about his answer for all of one second. “Yes.”

“Fuck you,” Luke laughs, and he turns around to look at Calum. And he’s fucking glowing, the reflection of the sun on the water spreading across his cheekbones. Calum feels severely dehydrated. 

“Only if you ask nicely,” Calum mindlessly repeats. 

“That’s my line. But maybe I will.” Luke whips back around to face the front and resumes paddling with maximum effort. “Know any sea shanties?”

“What?” Calum’s head is spinning and screaming at full volume with thoughts of Luke asking him nicely to—

“Sea shanties. Like, sailor songs. We’re on a boat, it’s only fitting.”

Calum blinks hard. Luke’s mind works in mysterious ways. It’s infuriatingly intriguing, the most enthralling game show of all time: What Will Luke Say Next? “I’m assuming you know some sea shanties?”

“Obviously, I’m a man of culture.” 

“Well, go on then. Don’t be shy.” Calum absolutely has to hear this. What an exciting turn of events. If Luke is really bad at singing, it could totally crush Calum’s crush. 

“Oh, no. No, I can only sing them if you know them,” Luke says. Then his voice pitches down like a Scottish horror movie narrator. “A respectable sailor would never be caught shantying alone. It’s bad luck. We’ll capsize and sink and die at sea.” 

“I’ll risk drowning to hear you sing a sea shanty,” Calum says. Embarrassing how truthful that is. “Please?”

“Alright, fuck, okay,” Luke says. “Twist my arm.”

“You brought it up!” Calum says indignantly. “This is what you deserve.”

“Shut up, I’m singing,” Luke says. Calum snorts. “You have to suspend disbelief, though, because these songs are supposed to be sung by a group, not alone. It’s not gonna sound right.”

Luke launches into a funny little tune about sailing for the Rio Grande, wherever that is, and leaving girls behind. He sings perfectly in time with their paddling. Calum doesn’t believe that this is not the way this song is intended to sound. Because Luke’s voice is shockingly beautiful, full and controlled in a way Calum would never have expected to come out of such a chaotic being. As if Luke didn’t have enough going for him already. Calum is fucked. 

By the time the third chorus rolls around, Calum’s picked up enough to join in on, away, boys, away, away for Rio! Luke gives Calum a wide smile over his shoulder when he does. He has got to stop doing that, or Calum is going to crash the kayak. 

As they sing the last we’re bound for the Rio Grande , they glide right into the main section of the lake, towards the island. It looks overgrown in the best way, like the set of a shipwreck movie. Most notably, however, there are—

“Goats!” Luke shrieks happily. Calum grins. Dammit. Of course Luke has to get even cuter in front of cute animals. It’s like some deity with a grudge against Calum crafted Luke to perfection out of spite and is dangling him under Calum’s nose. 

“Oh my God, there are babies!” Luke squeals. And holy shit, there are baby goats. 

There haven’t been goats on the island in a couple years, much less babies. A tiny squad of them are frolicking around the patch of grass down by the water’s edge that Calum and Luke are approaching. Calum watches the smallest of them trip, do a half somersault, get right back up, and keep running. 

“I want one,” Calum declares. 

“They’re so fucking cute,” Luke stage whispers. 

They watch the goats a while longer, paddling slowly down the long side of the island. Eventually, they give up paddling and just drift. The wind is dead today, and the sun is blazing overhead. Calum didn’t really notice when the kayak was moving, and they were making themselves a nice breeze, but it’s really hot out. 

“It’s so hot,” Luke says. He lays his paddle across the boat behind him and then spins in his seat to face Calum. “Let’s jump in.”

Calum pulls a face. “We can’t just jump in.”

“Why not?” Luke pulls off his sunglasses and sets them in an empty cup holder. And then Calum is looking fully into Luke’s blue, blue eyes, closer than he’s ever been before. They’re glittering. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“What if the boat drifts away?” 

“There’s no wind, and besides, we can just jump in really quick and then grab on right after.” Luke somehow makes his eyes grow more expressive at will. This is definitely cruel and unusual punishment. “C’mon, Cal, please? I sang you a sea shanty. This is my price.” 

Calum feels his mouth twitch. And his heart. He has so, so much to unpack later. That’s Future Calum’s problem. 

“Okay,” Calum says. “But this is not consent. This is coercion.”

“But it’s working!” Luke chirps. He grabs at the neck of his t-shirt, and Calum inhales sharply as Luke pulls it off in one motion. Holy shit, he’s got freckles everywhere. Like, everywhere. Calum follows the constellations down Luke’s neck and across his shoulders and back, lower, lower—

“Uh,” Calum says. “Yeah. It’s working.”

He takes off his own shirt as a distraction from his no-no thoughts and tries to mentally prepare to be submerged in murky green lake water. Yum. He looks back up at Luke, only to see him already watching Calum with a funny look on his face. His cheeks are a little pink. Maybe he forgot to put on sunscreen. White boy problems. 

“I’ll, uh. I’ll go first,” Luke says, shaking his head a bit. His curls bounce as he scrambles to his feet in a crouch. “Yeet!”

Calum lets out a yelp and clutches the sides of the boat as Luke launches out of the kayak, sending it rocking violently. Luke’s head pops up, and he spits out a mouthful of lake water. 

“It feels fucking amazing!”

“That’s what she said,” Calum says absently. Jumping into bodies of water isn’t that fun. Water always, always goes up his nose, no matter what he tries. The only foolproof solution is to hold his nose, and that’s embarrassing. 

“Calum, come on,” Luke says. “Just jump! Full send! What’s the worst that could happen?”

What is the worst that could happen? Calum looks out at Luke, treading water with a glint in his eye, and then down at the blue plastic beneath his white knuckles. There’s a chance it’ll be uncomfortable in the water. But it would be fleeting and temporary. He should jump and join Luke. Maybe it’ll be fun to go all-in. 

“Alright, alright, yeah. I’m doing it,” Calum says, pulling his feet underneath him for optimal jumping power. 

“Go!” Luke shouts, and Calum takes a deep breath and awkwardly frog-leaps off the boat into the water. He breaths out forcefully through his nose on impact and kicks upwards. His head breaks the surface to Luke’s delighted laughter. 

“Fuck yeah!” Luke cheers. Calum lets out a whoop. It feels absolutely incredible. The cool water is soothing his sun warmed skin in the most brightly pleasant way. It’s just cold enough to make him feel more present in his body than when he was in the boat. 

It’s starting to hit him, a little more, the fact that he’s out with Luke Hemmings in the middle of the lake on a perfect sunny summer day. There are baby goats nearby. They’re in a boat made for two. Or, they were, before they dramatically jumped out together. This afternoon has been, well. It’s been romantic. 

This was the opposite of what Calum needed to happen. He needed to be reminded that romantic love is work and not worth his time. He needed reasons to like Luke less, not more. 

And now Luke is treading water a few feet away, looking at him with a mix of joy and pride, and something else. Something that mixes well with the feeling of treading water in the middle of the open lake. Calum can’t look away. 

By the time he notices Luke’s smile switching from fond to evil, it’s too late. A wave of water hits Calum square in the face, forcing his eyes closed and making him splutter. 

“Gah!” He shakes his head to clear the water and beats his smile back into a scowl for dramatic effect. He stares Luke down. “Alright, Lucas. Is that how you wanna play?”

Luke’s eyes blow massively wide and his grin slips off a bit. 

“Oh, shit—”

Calum cuts him off by swinging his arm in a wide arc, spraying Luke across the face. Luke shrieks and ducks under the water, and then there’s a brief, horrifying silence where Calum swears he hears the Jaws theme playing. 

Luke explodes out of the water right beside him and throws his arms around Calum’s shoulders from behind, trying to push him underwater. His laughter is warm on Calum’s neck, and the contrast with the water makes Calum shiver in a way he desperately hopes Luke doesn’t notice. 

Luke keeps one arm wrapped around Calum's shoulders and slides his other hand across Calum’s wet curls in an attempt to dunk him. The feeling of having Luke’s hands on him is making Calum feel like he's drowning more than the water ever could. Way too much is happening right now. His heart is going to explode. He twists his arm back and grabs at Luke’s sides, the resulting shriek in his ear confirming that he’s hit his target. 

“Owie!” 

Luke wriggles around without letting go until he’s in front of Calum. Now his face is really close and his arms are still around Calum’s shoulders. Luke’s a little winded from their tussle, and his heaving chest is practically pressed against Calum’s. His eyes are big and pretty. All of Luke is big and pretty. This train of thought needs to be violently derailed before Calum does something like kiss Luke. 

“Um,” Calum says. “How do we get back in the boat?”

***

Old Chuck bumps gently against the side of the petro dock as Calum cleats the bowline. 

“So,” says Michael, giving the stern line a final tug and approaching the gas pump. “You and Luke. How much?” He pats the gas kiosk fondly, like it’s a large dog. 

“Twenty,” Calum says. “And I don’t know what you mean.” 

He is so not telling this Michael character about anything he may or may not be feeling about Luke. Or, like, anything in general. Michael seems way too unpredictable to be trusted with things Calum can barely admit to himself. 

“Come on, I know you guys hung out the other day.” Michael passes Calum the gas nozzle. He’s wearing an expression like a kid waiting up for Santa Claus. “Give me the deets. Luke won’t tell me shit.”

Calum raises his eyebrows. “What makes you think I will?”

“So you did hang out! I fucking knew it!”

Just then, the faint sound of Yung Gravy fills the air as the dock house door opens, and out comes Luke. 

“Mike!” he snaps, striding towards them. Luke looks surprisingly intimidating for someone in a life vest and no shirt. Is this, like, his uniform? His yellow flip-flops smack absurdly against the dock. “I could sense you being annoying from inside.” 

“Fuck off,” Michael says. “I’m getting the dirty inside scoop about your da—”

“Okay!” Luke says loudly, clapping his hands. “I’ve got it from here. You can go take your break or drown or something.”

Michael grins evilly. “Say less,” he says. He tosses Calum a wink, for some fucking reason, and practically skips into the dock house. 

Luke heaves a deep sigh and turns to Calum with a little smile. Calum’s stomach swoops. It’s been a few days since their kayak escapade, since he last saw Luke, and suddenly having his full attention is A Lot. 

“Sorry about him,” Luke says, leaning against the gas kiosk with one arm and crossing his ankles. “He’s like my child that I can’t leave unsupervised.” 

Oh man. Luke has just unknowingly set Calum up for his favorite pranks. Actually, it’s less of a prank and more of a straight up lie. 

“Oh, yeah, I know how they get,” Calum says. He looks Luke right in the eye. “That’s why I leave mine at home.”

Luke chokes. “Please tell me you’re joking. I honestly can’t tell sometimes, you’re a little too good at the whole deadpan thing—”

“I’m being serious,” Calum says, emboldened by the way Luke is buying this bit. He feels sort of powerful, being on the giving end of the joke for once. “I’ve got a toddler, she’s an adorable little menace.” 

Calum watches the color drain out of Luke’s sun kissed face in real time. This joke never gets old. 

“Ah,” Luke says, kind of squeaky. “Oh. That’s cool, that’s—”

This is fucking fantastic. Luke Hemmings is tripping over his words, looking flustered and out of sorts. Calum is going to rupture an organ from holding in his laughter. 

“Luke.” 

“Mhmm?” Luke says, incredibly strained. Calum grins cheekily at Luke from behind his Ray Bans. 

“I’m kidding.” 

“What?” Luke says, still looking like he’s seen a ghost. Or like he is a ghost. 

“I’m kidding, I don’t have any fucking kids. I’m twenty one and, like, eighty five percent gay. I haven’t touched a woman in years.”

“Oh,” Luke says, visibly relaxing. His face of relief quickly turns into a scowl. “Hey! You asshole!”

He takes a half-assed swing at Calum’s shoulder. Calum doesn’t dodge it. Luke’s knuckles brush his shoulder, and he breaks out in goosebumps. Maybe this is an extremely lame and pathetic way to get Luke to touch him, but he really cannot be assed to care. 

“Sorry!” Calum says, still smiling widely as Luke lands another weak blow on his bicep before crossing his arms petulantly, looking like a bit of an actual toddler himself. 

“That was mean,” Luke says, pouting. His bottom lip looks delectable. Calum wants to touch Luke’s lips. With his lips. Calum wants to kiss Luke. Fuck. 

“I’m sorry!” Calum says again, although he’s a little confused. Why would Luke care if Calum had a kid? What do kids imply? Heterosexuality. And a significant other. Wait—

“So you don’t have kids?” Luke says. “Or, uh.” He stops to scratch the back of his head. “Anyone who you’d have kids with?” 

Calum is torn between wanting to laugh at the wording of that question and screaming with delight at the fact that Luke Hemmings cares about his relationship status. Which shouldn’t matter because Calum shouldn’t care if Luke cares about Calum’s relationship status. Because he shouldn’t like Luke. 

Calum realizes he’s been silent for too long. Too late to be cool, as per usual. 

“No, no one, there’s no one,” he says, attempting to sound calm and probably failing. Definitely failing. 

“Awesome,” Luke says. “I mean, uh, cool. And me, too. I also do not have anyone. Listen, would you, um. Would you want to come to my Fourth party?” 

Calum blinks at Luke a few times, waiting to make sure that he’s serious. 

“Luke, I always come to your Fourth party. Everyone does.”

“No, I know, but I meant, like. Would you want to come with me? Like, together.” 

Oh my God. Together, capital T, Together? No way. Does he mean, like, a d—no way. 

“Like a date?”

Luke opens and closes his mouth once, wordlessly, like a large, beautiful fish. He draws his shoulders back a bit and looks Calum in the eye. A butterfly spawns in Calum’s stomach. 

“Yeah,” Luke says. “Like a date.” 

The butterfly whips up a tornado inside. Luke looks similarly nervous. His body language is saying, I Got This, but something in his eyes, just visible over the tops of his aviators, is saying, Oh Fuck Oh Shit. Calum can relate. 

“Oh fuck. Oh, cool, I mean. I’d really like that,” Calum says. I really like you, he doesn’t add. His awkward stuttering is well worth the smile he gets from Luke. 

“Sweet. Awesome.” Luke’s cheeks are going red and dimply. Calum is going to die. “I can pick you up again?”

“I mean, the rest of my family is going too,” Calum says. “So I do have a way to get there. You don’t have to come get me.”

“Okay,” Luke says. He scuffs his sandal on the dock. “This is true. But what if I want to pick you up just because?” 

“What, to practice your real-life Mario Kart maneuvers? I barely survived the first time,” Calum quips, but he’s grinning, because of course he is. It’s Luke. And Luke has just asked him on a date. And wants to pick him up just because. That is fucking adorable. Holy shit. “Sure, you can pick me up,” Calum says. “If you insist.” 

“I do,” Luke says. He stands there smiling softly at Calum for what might actually be a full minute. He has so many freckles across his nose. Then he shakes his head a bit.  “Uh, so. Yeah. I’ll just put twenty gallons on your tab. See you at eight!” 

He turns on his heel and flip-flops back to the dock house. Calum studies the lovely blush running down his ears, neck, and back as he goes. The door opens and closes, and Calum doesn't move. 

Wow, he is so utterly screwed. 

An official date with Luke Hemmings. 

Technically, one date doesn’t break the no-romance rule. Calum’s gone on a few one dates before. Just not with anyone who’s made insects appear in his internal organs. Only Luke has ever even come close to having that kind of power. 

Honestly, it’s fucking scary. Calum isn’t a massive fan of someone else having power over his emotions. He can’t control it, and relinquishing control makes him feel juvenile and stupid. Like some dumb ass kid with no self-sufficiency or awareness. 

 It sure would be fucking nice if he could choose exactly how to feel about whom and when to feel said feelings. But if he were handed his own emotional remote, he’d probably choose to never feel any way about anyone, and he’d accidentally turn himself into a soulless droid. 

So maybe it’s for the best that he can’t control his actual emotions. What he can control are his actions. And, Calum thinks, as he watches Luke do some stupid dance move through the dock house window, maybe it’s time he acts. 

***

There’s only one place to be late evening on the Fourth of July: the Hemmings’ Basement. Tipsy by J-Kwon is blaring out of the same speaker that usually resides in the dock house, turned up so loud that the bass sounds like a pained robot. The usual Fourth crowd is all here: Mike, Ash, everyone’s siblings, and a couple other neighbor kids. Mali-Koa is sitting in the corner, destroying the Hemmings brothers at poker. 

Calum is frozen in place in his seat on the stairs, watching Luke and Mike play a heated game of ping pong. Luke’s curls are flying around, no sunglasses to even partially contain them, framing his flushed cheeks and sparkling grin. He cackles loudly and maniacally, throwing his head back and baring his neck for everyone to just look at, every time he almost misses a shot. Which is almost every single one. 

Calum is absolutely fucking transfixed. 

Every year prior, at this Fourth party, Calum has largely avoided Luke, watching him out of the corner of his eye from his place in the poker game. Now he’s here With Luke, capital W, and he’s still on the sidelines. 

So much for acting. 

It’s just. What is Calum supposed to do? Luke is so pretty and funny and genuine and unafraid. Calum is so, so afraid of signing his emotions over to another person that he’s sitting clear across the room from his date, who he likes way more than he should. Just thinking about it is making his grip on his diet Coke heat up, his sweat mixing uncomfortably with the cold condensation, and—

“Hey, man,” Ash says, plopping on the step next to Calum. “Enjoying the game?”

“What? Oh, yeah,” Calum says, snapping out of it. Sort of. He and Ash fall silent for a second as they watch Mike try to serve the ball with his eyes closed. He misses. “Real hardcore shit.”

“Totally,” Ash says, sounding a little distracted, and Calum tears his eyes off Luke to see Ash staring a little vacantly off to the other side of the ping pong table. “So. You and Luke.” 

Calum groans and squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe if he can’t see Ash, then Ash can’t see him. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he can magically teleport out of another humiliating conversation with one of Luke’s friends. 

“Why does everyone keep asking me about this?”

Ashton raises an eyebrow. Calum can tell he’s trying not to smile. It’s kind of fucking irritating. “By everyone, do you mean me and Mike?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, look. Luke literally has not shut up about you, since, like, the beginning of the summer. Of freshman year. Of high school.”

Calum channels his willpower into keeping his jaw off the floor. Because, like, what? 

“What?”

“Yeah,” Ash says, like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t just emotionally laid Calum down in the middle of a freeway. “He’s had a thing for you for forever. I’m only telling you this now because you are literally on a date, so this can’t be counted as meddling, and it can’t cost me friendship points.”

“Telling me what? Are you about to give me a Hurt Him And I’ll Kill You talk? Because I was actually in the middle of giving myself one of those when you showed up.” Calum’s not sure why he’s just chosen to be semi-vulnerable with one of Luke’s best friends. It should probably feel weirder than it does.

“Nope,” Ash says easily. “Kind of exactly the opposite, actually. I was going to say that I think you’re cool and that I haven’t seen Luke as happy as he was after your kayak date since, like, the day that Whisker’s started serving root beer floats.”  

If Ash keeps talking, Calum is going to pass away. One more compliment and he is going to melt into a puddle of goo and drip his way down the steps. 

“The kayak thing wasn’t a date,” Calum says, surprised that his nose doesn’t grow from the magnitude of that fucking lie. It definitely felt like a date from start to finish. Why does calling it a date make him so nervous?

Why is Calum so desperate to push Luke away without actually doing so? 

“Okay,” Ash says. “Kayaking wasn’t a date. But this is. So, congrats.” 

Mike lets out an especially obnoxious cheer from the midst of the ping pong war. Ash stands rather abruptly, chugs the rest of his Pepsi, and crumples the can in his fist. 

“Good talk!” he says down to Calum, something manic glinting behind his bright hazel eyes. Calum would be more frightened, maybe, if he weren’t a whole head taller than Ash. But since he’s sitting while Ash is standing, he does feel a little nervous. 

“Good talk?” Calum says, just to agree, hoping that Ash will direct his unhinged spotlight gaze literally anywhere else. 

It works. Ash tromps down the stairs. 

“Hey, Mike! Let’s go beat these losers to the best fireworks spot.”

Mike drops his ping pong paddle instantly to beam at Ash with his entire body. 

“Fuck yeah,” he says, bouncing over. He prys the crushed Pepsi can from Ash’s fingers and volleyball spikes it into the wall. It bounces off with a clonk and hits the floor with a clatter. 

“What was that for?” Ash asks, staring at the can’s lifeless form. 

“Because,” Mike says. He grabs Ash’s now-empty hand and pulls him toward the sliding glass doors that lead to the patio. “Come on, come on, best seats!”

Their shouting rouses everyone else from their various activities, Jack and Alex saved from being beat by Lauren at foosball. Within a minute, Calum watches everyone fly out the door and let it slide shut with a thud that rattles the glass a dangerous amount. 

And then Luke is coming over to Calum, face flushed from the epic highs and lows of ping pong. Calum is starting to feel ill. 

“Hey!” Luke says, beaming. He sits down where Ash had been, but much closer; thigh pressed against Calum’s, knees knocking together. Luke still smells like summer, but with an added hint of sweat that is Doing Things to Calum. Immediately, Calum wants to will these Things away. Instead, he takes a deep breath and thinks about trying to just be okay with them. This is okay. He is okay. Feelings do not equal death. 

“Hi,” Calum says. 

“They kissed,” Luke says. Calum blinks. 

“What?”

“Mike and Ash.” Luke is staring at the sliding glass doors. “I saw them through the dock house window yesterday. They don’t think I know, but. I know. And now you do too.” 

He turns to Calum then, and wow, blue eyes. Big blue eyes, very close to Calum’s face. They are really pretty. Is Calum now allowed to just think that?

“Thank you for trusting me with this military-grade secret,” Calum says with some difficulty, keeping his gaze trained as casually as possible on Luke’s eyes. At least it’s better than looking at, like, his lips. Or something. 

“Come on,” Luke says. He stands and offers Calum a hand. “Let’s go to the actual best seat in the house. Or should I say, on the house.” 

***

“Are you sure this is safe?” Calum asks, watching Luke remove the screen from his second story bedroom window. 

“Does safety really seem like my priority?” Luke sets the screen off to the side. “Oh shit, we need blankets and stuff.” He passes Calum and opens his closet and starts rummaging around on the top shelf. His shirt rides up a little, and Calum accidentally stares at the freckled sliver of back that gets exposed. “Catch!” Luke says, and then Calum is blinded by something soft and fluffy. 

He hears Luke giggle, and then the blanket is being pulled gently off his face and he’s staring directly into Luke’s eyes. 

“Your hair is fucked up,” Luke says through his smile. There are dimples in both his cheeks. Calum fights the absurd urge to lick them. Luke reaches up and fixes Calum’s curls, and Calum bites his tongue. 

“You fucked my hair up,” Calum mumbles. Luke is definitely dragging his fingertips over Calum’s scalp more than necessary. Calum is turning into a puddle. 

“I did not,” Luke says like he’s trying not to laugh. “The blanket did.” He gives a last tug on a curl, and Calum swallows a sharp exhale. “Okay let’s go, let’s go, it’s getting dark, we’re gonna miss it.” 

He shoves lightly at Calum’s shoulder, like he’s trying to push him towards the window. Calum snickers. 

“Damn, calm down, we have at least twenty minutes before the fireworks start, I think we’re gonna make it five feet to the window.”

“Oh, we’re not going to the window,” Luke says. His smile turns rather mischievous, and Calum’s stomach jolts. “We’re going out the window.”

“Ah,” says Calum, nodding. “Defenestration. Great idea.”

“No, not like—” Luke cuts himself off with a giggle that Calum’s not sure his joke really merited. But damn, what a laugh. Luke even throws his head back, and Calum gets a good look at his neck. “We’re gonna sit on the roof. Come on, hurry up, now we only have nineteen minutes and thirty seconds.”

“Alright,” Calum says. “You go out the window first, so that if you slip and die, I can live.”

“That’s fucking rude,” Luke says. “You wouldn’t save me?”

“Can’t,” Calum says. “My hands are full.” He gestures with his armful of blankets. 

Luke laughs again, the same blasted squeaky giggle from before, and Calum grits his teeth through a small smile to keep from screaming at how fucking cute he is. 

“Good to know I’m worth less than a couple blankets,” Luke says. 

“They’re really soft,” Calum explains, like that’s reasonable. 

“I’m really soft,” Luke counters indignantly. Calum pulls a face. 

“Ew.” 

“Yeah, nevermind,” Luke says. “I thought that was the thing to say but it wasn’t and now I’ve ruined the bit. I’ll be going out the window now.” 

Calum laughs and watches Luke sulk out the window with feigned dejection. 

“Stop laughing at me,” Luke complains from outside on the roof. 

“Stop being funny,” Calum says. He passes the blankets to Luke and climbs onto the window seat. From there, it’s an easy two steps out onto the roof. 

The lake, in all its dusky glory, is laid out before them, gently rippling water catching the last light of day. Fireflies are poking around in the grass along the sides of the house and way across shore. Boats are lined up, adorned with flags and balloons and other ridiculous decorations, ready to watch the firework show. 

Luke leads them carefully along the flat-ish edge of the roof past his bedroom gable, slightly towards the center of the lake, where they should have the best view. He carefully lays out one blanket, throws the rest on top, and collapses on top of them. 

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Luke says, batting his eyelashes absurdly at Calum and patting the spot next to him in the nest of blankets. 

Calum obligingly sits, and they watch the lake for a few calm minutes, the lights from the boats dancing on the water in the ever oncoming darkness. Calum can vaguely hear raised voices that sound suspiciously like Mike and Ash down on the deck below. 

Out across the lake, Calum can just barely make out the outline of the big maple trees along shore, the same ones he can see from the back deck of his grandparents’ cabin. They’re so vibrantly green in the summer that they’re hard to look at without sunglasses. Calum’s grandma sends him pictures of the brilliant reds and golds that paint the leaves in the fall. Now, though, the trees are black. Or a sort of light gray. Whatever. 

Calum turns to Luke and finds him staring off towards the trees, clearly zoned the fuck out. 

“Hey,” Calum says, softly, so as to not violently jolt Luke back to reality. He watches the light in Luke’s eyes flick back on. 

“Hmm?”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Calum pulls his knees in and rests his head on them so he’s looking at Luke sideways, studying the curve of his curls down the slide of his nose to his lips. He looks like an abstract painting, dark profile on a rapidly darkening background. Luke takes a deep, slow breath, eyes still trained on the trees. Calum watches his eyelashes flutter. 

“When I was a kid, I used to imagine how much fun it would be to jump off this roof and fly down across the water and up over the trees. I thought it would be massively epic. I still think about it sometimes.”

“Oh, nice,” Calum says. “Very Peter Pan of you.”

“Oh my god, I loved Peter Pan!” Luke finally looks away from the trees to beam at Calum, effectively cutting through the evening dark. “Holy shit! I used to have a collection of Peter Pan action figures. I watched that movie every week for like four years. He was literally my hero.”

“I loved that movie too,” Calum says, “but I was actually a Captain Hook fan myself.”

“Ew, what?” Luke says, disgust evident in his tone. Calum grins to himself. Man, Luke is so much fun to rile up. It’s adorable. “Captian Hook was a greasy motherfuker who deserved to lose multiple limbs.”

“Ouch, that’s a little harsh,” Calum says, trying to hide the smile from his voice so that Luke doesn’t catch on to the joke. “He just wanted good old fashioned revenge on the punk ass bitch who got his arm bit off. Is that really so evil?”

“Yeah, it fucking is,” Luke says heatedly. “Peter was just a kid looking out for a bunch of other kids—”

“Okay, but none of them could age, so they had kid bodies, but were older than they looked,” Calum interrupts. “They weren’t literal children.”

“Fuck you, yes they were,” Luke says, a little high pitched. “They were just kids on a magical island and they were living the dream life until Mr. Greasy Ass came along and tried to ruin everything.”

“Alright, okay, I concede,” Calum says. “You win The Great Peter Pan Debate. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Luke doesn’t miss a beat. “I did it all by simply being right. As always.”

Calum snickers and admires Luke’s pleased grin. Or, as much as he can see of it. It’s pretty much properly dark out. Calum’s other senses are starting to compensate for his loss of vision; he can feel Luke’s chest rising and falling where their arms are pressed together and hear his breathing. His summer scent is swaddling Calum like the softest blanket. 

“It would be cool to fly away,” Calum says after a minute. “Just for a little bit, at least. I want to touch the clouds. I know they’re just water vapor, or whatever the fuck, but they look so. I don’t know. Delicious.”

“Delectable,” Luke says. “My brothers and I call the really big fluffy ones Jesus clouds because they look like they belong in the background of Jesus portraits.”

“Nice,” Calum says. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen a portrait of Jesus, but I will take your word for it.”

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Luke says without preamble. Calum blinks against his rising blush. Good thing it’s dark. 

“Luke, I always come.”

“No, fuck off, I meant like—”

“I know, I know,” Calum says, grinning. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m really glad you asked me.”

Luke ducks his head down to look into his lap, like he’s shy, or something. Calum’s heart screams. 

“I mean, it was about time,” Luke half-mumbles, like he’s only pretending that he doesn’t want Calum to hear. “I’ve only had a crush on you for approximately forever.”

“So I’ve heard,” Calum says, super convincingly feigning cool indifference. Luke’s head snaps up. 

“Oh my god, who fucking snitched? Was it fucking Ashton Irwin? I’m going to kill him. He’s just lost so many friendship points.”

Calum laughs loudly, and when he catches his breath, Luke is looking at him with a little smile. 

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Calum says. Luke scowls at him. His nose wrinkles. It’s really fucking cute. 

“It was totally Ash,” Luke says. 

“You’re really cute,” Calum says. 

“I— oh,” Luke says, almost a squeak. Calum can practically feel the heat radiating off his face in the dark. Luke clears his throat.

“Well, I think you’re—” he begins, and then the fireworks go off. 

A burst of golden light throws Luke’s face into sudden and sharp relief. The following bang echoes the heavy pound of Calum’s heart. He meets Luke’s molten blue-gold eyes for a second, and then Luke is looking at the sky, slightly open mouthed in awe. 

Calum stares at Luke’s profile, trying to sear the image into his memory so that it will be there every time he closes his eyes. A red burst makes Luke look dangerous, a blue one stormy. Every single one makes him pretty. 

If liking Luke is so easy that it’s happening against Calum’s will, then maybe he should let it happen. If he’s being honest with himself for the first time this summer, it already is happening. He’s been liking Luke this whole time. It’s taken way more effort to ignore reality than it would be to indulge in this larger-than-little crush. 

Luke glances sideways and catches Calum staring. 

“Watch the fireworks, dork,” he says with a grin. He bumps their shoulders together. 

“Okay,” Calum says, still smiling dopily at him. Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he turns back to the sky, and Calum dutifully follows him. 

The sky explodes in blues and purples, and Luke’s hand finds Calum’s, and the butterfly inside him soars. 

***

"Hey," Calum says to Luke. "I've been an idiot."

They're standing in front of Old Chuck. Calum’s just paid for fuel and is supposed to be driving away right now. But all his thoughts feel so heavy he’s afraid he’ll sink the boat if he boards right now. 

"Oh?" says Luke. He tilts his head like a puppy, and his aviators shift in his curls. His eyes are deep like the lake and bright like the sky. "You wanna elaborate?" 

“No, but I’m going to anyway,” Calum says, and Luke’s grin is enough to power Calum onwards through the fear that’s making his hands shake. “I’ve been holding myself back because I’ve been afraid of my feelings and committing to them. But I really like you, and I think you’re worth the risk.”

“Okay. So?” Luke says, raising an eyebrow. Kind of a harsh reaction to Calum spilling his guts everywhere. He feels about five seconds away from literally spilling his guts right into Old Chuck. 

“So?”

“What risk am I worth?” Luke asks, stepping closer to Calum so that Calum has to look up just the slightest bit to meet his eyes. His stupid eyes doing their stupid sparkling thing again. 

“Emotional vulnerability,” Calum breathes, unable to properly fill his lungs with Luke so close. Luke might be starting to smile, but Calum would have to go cross-eyed to confirm. 

“Prove it,” Luke says. Luke the Cocky Bastard is turning Calum on way more than he should be. Calum’s breaths are coming in shallower. He can smell Luke’s breath. Luke’s breath smells like mangoes. Calum loves mangoes. 

“Fine,” Calum says, and then he kisses Luke. Luke tastes like mangoes and summer and something that might be magic. His lips are sun-warm and a little chapped and Calum has never felt anything better. Every muscle in his body relaxes, and he leans a little closer. Luke hums into the kiss, and one of his hands winds into Calum’s hair. Calum sees stars. 

Luke pulls away just an inch, enough to murmur, “Holy fuck,” before he kisses Calum again. Luke drags his fingers down Calum’s scalp, and Calum thinks he feels his feet leave the dock and start levitating. 

Calum only makes it a few more seconds before his oxygen levels get dangerously low. He surfaces for air, and Luke is right there breathing hard with him. Calum grins. 

“I have a crush on you,” he says. “Always have.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, grinning wide. He pecks Calum on the nose. “I know. Always have.”

“Hang on, what do you mean, ‘always have?’”

“I mean you’ve been coming round and staring at me like a little creep every summer since middle school,” Luke says. “You’re not exactly subtle. Don’t worry though, it was cute. And I’m not subtle either. I always saved my best jokes for you.”

Calum buries his face in Luke’s shoulder while he processes this information. Jesus Christ. 

“First of all,” Calum starts, leaning up to look Luke in the eye. This is a mistake, because Luke’s face is really fucking distracting. “First of all, I did not stare like a creep, fuck you. Secondly, how the fuck was I supposed to know you were saving your best jokes for me? And thirdly, why didn’t you make a move sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Calum scowls. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Luke says. “Actually, though, I didn’t want to scare you off. I’m kind of a lot, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have,” Calum says, and he leans in to kiss Luke again, just a sweet press of lips that makes his stomach churn almost more than their full-on first kiss. 

When they part, Luke is glowing, looking at Calum like. Like something. Something with a lot of strong emotions that hurts Calum to think about. He’s already so overwhelmed that things are turning out a billion times better than his super specific controlled daydreams. 

“Come over later? I wanna swim,” Luke says. 

“Fuck yeah,” Calum says. “I can pick you up on Old Chuck after your shift.” 

“Amazing,” Luke says. He eyes the boat next to them fondly. “Good ‘ol Chuck. Vessel of romance.”

Calum snickers. “I’m totally gonna paint that on his other side.”