It was the middle of sumr, and the golden sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy above as Frida and Laz sprawled across the soft grass in the park. The world around them felt endless, full of possibilities, and the air buzzed with the sll of blooming flowers and fresh-cut grass.
Frida twisted a blade of grass between her fingers, her curly hair glowing like a halo in the sunlight. Laz sat cross-legged beside her, scribbling sothing in the notebook he always carried around.
"What are you writing this ti?" Frida asked, craning her neck to peek.
"Nothing you'd care about," Laz said, snapping the book shut.
"Oh, co on!" she whined, nudging his shoulder. "You always make it sound like you're plotting world domination or sothing."
"Maybe I am," he teased, adjusting his glasses and grinning.
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling back. "Okay, fine, I'll just amuse myself without you." She plucked a bright yellow dandelion from the grass and held it out to him. "Eat it."
Laz gave her a skeptical look. "I'm not eating that."
"It's not even gross!" she protested, holding the dandelion closer to his face. "You said you'd try it if I dared you."
"I said maybe," he corrected, leaning back to avoid the flower. "That doesn't an 'yes.'"
"Coward," Frida teased, flopping dramatically onto her back. "Fine, you get to dare next ti. But I'll do it because I'm brave. Unlike so people."
"Brave?" Laz arched a brow. "You cried over a spider last week."
"That spider was huge!" she shot back, sitting up and narrowing her eyes at him. "It looked like it could eat !"
"Sure, Frida." He smirked and grabbed a small pebble from the ground, tossing it in her direction.
It missed by a mile.
"That was pathetic," she laughed, dodging easily. "You throw like a grandma."
"Do not!" Laz retorted, his cheeks turning pink. "You're just too squirmy to hit."
"Excuses, excuses." Frida bead, leaning back on her hands as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the park in warm orange tones. The bickering faded into a comfortable silence, the kind only best friends could share.
"Frida," Laz said suddenly, his voice quieter than before.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think we'll still be friends when we're old?"
She turned to look at him, surprised by the question. His brown eyes, usually so full of mischief, seed almost serious now.
"Of course," she said with confidence. "Like, when we're super old and wrinkly, and you still can't throw a pebble to save your life."
He groaned. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"And you're stuck with ." She grinned, grabbing his hand and shaking it playfully.
"Who would want such misery?" he shot back, rolling his eyes, but his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile.
She laughed, that bold, carefree laugh of hers, leaning closer. "Oh, co on. You know you want it bad."
And he smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah."
He didn't pull away. Instead, he smiled, small and genuine, and for a mont, it was like they were the only two people in the world.
The first fireflies of the evening began to glow around them, dotting the soft twilight with flickers of light.
"Deal," Laz said softly, his voice almost lost to the hum of the sumr night.
The mory slamd into her, as vivid as the day it happened, leaving her breathless.
Frida stared at the red note on her door now, the words "You want it bad " taunting her in bold letters.
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as anger bubbled in her chest.
This person is mind-f*cking .
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