Summer of Soft Sunshine – Chapter One – First Sunlight Splash
The summer air smelled different that morning—warmer, saltier, alive with a kind of brightness that felt almost too much for me. I stood at the edge of the boardwalk with my beach bag strap digging into my palm, trying not to look as tense as I felt. Families streamed past in both directions, kids dragging inflatable rings bigger than they were, parents juggling coolers and umbrellas. Everyone seemed so effortlessly relaxed, like slipping into summer was as natural as breathing.
For me, it wasn’t so easy.
The wood under my sandals was already hot from the sun, radiating heat that pushed me forward toward the sand. My chest fluttered the way it always did when I overthought things—each step ahead promising excitement but threatening exposure. The hem of my swim shorts brushed against my thighs, and beneath them, snug against my skin, was the secret that had been making my heart pound since we left the house. Soft padding, thin enough to pass but thick enough that I could feel it.
I swallowed hard. No one could tell. Not really. It was just me who couldn’t stop noticing.
“You look like you’re about to bolt.”
Samantha’s voice broke into my spiraling thoughts, light and teasing. She stood beside me with one hand resting on the wooden railing, the other holding a woven straw bag that looked effortlessly summery, like it belonged in a magazine. Her straw hat shaded her face, but her smile was visible, the corners of her mouth tugging up in amusement.
“I’m not,” I said, too quickly.
She arched an eyebrow. “Mhm. And I’m a seagull.”
That made me laugh, shaky though it was. Samantha had a way of poking through my defenses without actually pushing me over. She wasn’t mocking me; she never did. Just gently holding up a mirror until I couldn’t help but smile at myself.
“Come on,” she said, looping her arm through mine before I could retreat into silence. “The ocean’s waiting. And I’ve got the best sandcastle architect in the world on my team today.”
“I’m really not—”
“Oh, hush. You are if I say you are.”
And just like that, she was tugging me down the steps and onto the sand.
The first touch of it surprised me—hot, shifting, swallowing my feet in soft grains that slid between my toes. I let out a small laugh despite myself, wobbling as I adjusted to the way the ground gave under my weight. Samantha glanced at me with a knowing grin, then bent to spread out our blanket in a practiced snap. The fabric landed smoothly, bright against the pale sand.
I was still standing awkwardly, clutching the strap of my bag, when she plucked a small plastic bucket from hers and pressed it into my hands. The bucket was neon orange, the kind usually seen in a child’s toy set.
“What’s this?” I asked, even though the answer was obvious.
“It’s your mission,” she said. “We’re building a sandcastle before we do anything else.”
I stared at the bucket, then at her. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.” Her grin widened. “Doctor’s orders. Or maybe nanny’s.”
Heat rose in my cheeks at that last word. I fumbled for a response, but the amusement in her eyes softened the sting, leaving me flustered but not panicked.
“Fine,” I muttered, sinking down into the sand. The grains stuck to my legs immediately, warm and scratchy. I dug my fingers in, scooping a handful into the bucket. The sound of it pouring—soft, cascading, a little gritty—was oddly soothing.
Samantha knelt beside me, her sundress brushing the sand. She leaned close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. “See? Already looks good on you. Much better than standing there like you’re at a job interview.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm-hm. But you’re still scooping.”
She was right. The bucket grew heavier with each handful until I packed it down and flipped it upside down in front of us. Lifting it revealed a lopsided tower, crooked but standing.
Samantha gasped dramatically. “Perfect! Just the right size for tiny knights and dragon plushies.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “That’s not even—”
“Shh. It’s perfect.”
Her over-the-top praise made me laugh, really laugh, and the tension in my chest eased. We added more towers, little walls, and shells for decoration. My fingers got coated in fine grains, the sun beat down warm on my shoulders, and for the first time that morning I let myself stop worrying.
When the heat grew too much, Samantha leaned back on her hands and tilted her face to the sky. “Alright, architect. Time for a dip?”
The question made my heart stutter. The water glittered in the distance, waves rolling and crashing in white foam. Families splashed near the shallows, kids shrieking with delight. I wanted to join them. I really did. But the thought of wading in with the soft bulk under my shorts… my throat tightened.
Samantha noticed. Of course she did. She always did.
“Hey,” she said, softer now. Her hand brushed mine, grounding me. “Just a little splash. We’ll stay close to shore. I’ll be right there.”
Her tone made it sound so simple. Maybe it was. I nodded, shaky but willing, and stood, brushing sand from my legs. She rose too, slipping her hand into mine with easy certainty, like it belonged there.
The walk to the water felt longer than it was. Each step was a small reminder of what I was wearing, every grain of sand clinging in ways that made me self-conscious. But Samantha didn’t hurry me. She just walked beside me, humming some tune under her breath until the tide reached our ankles.
The first touch of ocean water was a shock—icy against sun-heated skin. I gasped, jerking a little, but then laughed as the foam fizzed around my feet. Samantha squeezed my hand.
“See? Not so scary. Just the ocean saying hi.”
We waded further, the water lapping higher, tugging gently at my shorts. My skin prickled with goosebumps, but with each step the unease loosened. When Samantha flicked water at me with a mischievous grin, I couldn’t resist splashing her back.
She squealed, overdramatic, and splashed harder. Soon we were laughing, dodging, flinging handfuls of water like kids. The padding under my shorts swelled faintly, a reminder I couldn’t quite ignore, but for those moments it didn’t matter. I was just here, in the sun and the sea, with her.
By the time we stumbled back to our blanket, dripping and breathless, my cheeks ached from smiling. Samantha handed me a towel and wrapped hers snugly around her shoulders. She leaned over to ruffle my wet hair.
“First splash conquered,” she said softly, eyes warm. “Told you you’d be fine.”
I sank into the towel’s embrace, the warmth and softness overwhelming in a way I didn’t want to analyze. Maybe she was right. Maybe this summer really could be different.
Back on the blanket, I collapsed onto my towel, still dripping, the sun heating my skin almost instantly. Samantha spread herself beside me with the kind of elegance that didn’t make sense—how someone could lounge in the sand and still look like she belonged in a travel brochure, I’d never know.
“Hungry?” she asked after a few minutes, fishing through the cooler.
My stomach answered before I did, growling audibly. She smirked, victorious. “That’s what I thought.”
From the cooler she produced a small container of cut fruit, condensation beading on the lid, and two wrapped popsicles. She tossed one to me.
I caught it clumsily, fumbling with the plastic. My fingers were still a little numb from the water, and the wrapper resisted stubbornly. I wrestled with it until Samantha plucked it from my hands with a raised brow.
“Need help, mister ‘I’m-not-nervous’?” she teased.
“I was getting it,” I muttered, but I didn’t protest as she tore the wrapper easily and handed the popsicle back.
Her smile was smug but soft. “There. See? Not everything has to be a battle.”
The first taste was pure summer—sweet, icy, a rush of cherry flavor that dripped almost instantly down the side of my hand. I licked it quickly, but not fast enough. A red streak slid toward my wrist.
Samantha’s laugh bubbled out before I could even look up. “Already sticky. You lasted, what, thirty seconds?”
I groaned. “It’s melting too fast!”
She leaned closer, a playful glint in her eyes. “Maybe I should’ve packed you a bib.”
Heat flared in my cheeks. I rolled my eyes, but the worst part was the tiny flicker in my chest—the way part of me almost liked that she’d said it. Embarrassing, yes, but wrapped in the kind of affection that made the sting strangely sweet.
I focused hard on finishing the popsicle without further disasters, while Samantha worked through hers with leisurely grace, like she had all the time in the world. When I risked a glance at her, she was watching me with that same gentle amusement, her chin propped on her hand.
“What?” I asked, defensive.
“Nothing,” she said innocently. “Just… you look more relaxed now. Like you’re finally letting the beach do its job.”
I glanced down at myself—bare feet buried in the sand, salt water drying on my skin, a lopsided sandcastle behind us—and couldn’t deny she was right. The tension from earlier had loosened, replaced by something quieter.
Samantha reached into the cooler again and held out a piece of watermelon, the juice glistening in the sun. “Here. Hydration.”
I hesitated, but she was already holding it close to my lips, expectant. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh.” Her tone was teasing but steady. “Say ahh.”
I shot her a look, but my mouth betrayed me, opening despite my protest. She popped the watermelon in triumph, smiling wide as juice ran down my chin.
She chuckled softly, wiping it with the corner of her towel before I could. “Messy, messy.”
My face was hot again, but beneath the embarrassment was warmth—the kind that made my chest ache in a good way. She wasn’t just teasing; she was caring, too, in a way that made me feel both smaller and safer than I expected.
The sun climbed higher, pressing heat onto us until the air shimmered. I stretched out on the blanket, my towel still damp around my shoulders, and let out a long sigh. My eyelids felt heavy. The sound of waves crashing against the shore blended with laughter and the faint calls of seagulls overhead.
“Careful,” Samantha murmured beside me. “If you close your eyes now, you’ll be out like a light.”
“I’m not tired,” I said automatically, even though my voice sounded sluggish even to me.
She hummed, unconvinced. “Mm-hm. That’s what you always say.”
I meant to argue, but the warmth of the sun and the softness of the towel conspired against me. My body felt heavier with each breath. The padding under my shorts pressed gently, a quiet reminder of what I was wearing, but even that sensation blurred into comfort rather than worry.
I must’ve drifted, because the next thing I registered was a hand brushing hair from my forehead. My eyes blinked open to find Samantha leaning over me, her smile fond and unhurried.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” she said softly.
I rubbed my eyes, disoriented. “How long was I—?”
“Not long. Twenty minutes, maybe. Just a little catnap.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said firmly, adjusting the edge of the towel around me like a blanket. “You looked adorable.”
That word made my stomach flip. I wanted to hide under the towel completely, but she just laughed quietly, like she’d been expecting that reaction.
“You don’t always have to be on,” she continued, her voice gentler now. “Summer’s for resting too. Naps on the beach are practically required.”
I tried to play it off, but the truth was, I had felt good—safe—wrapped in the warmth of the sun and her presence. The embarrassment mingled with something sweeter, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to untangle the two.
Before I could say anything, a sudden shriek of laughter from a group of kids nearby startled me fully awake. They were chasing each other with buckets of water, splashing wildly. Samantha followed my gaze and smirked.
“Looks like the water fight’s spreading.” She tilted her head toward me. “Think you can handle round two, or do you need your nap extended?”
I groaned, half laughing. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
She stood and held out her hand, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, architect-slash-sleepyhead. Let’s see if you’re still quick on your feet.”
I took her hand, my own still sluggish, but her grip was steady, pulling me upright with ease.
And just like that, I was back on my feet, the day stretching ahead of us, full of sunlight, salt, and whatever Samantha decided to tease me about next.
The group of kids splashing nearby had turned their game into full-blown chaos. Water flew in wide arcs as they squealed and laughed, darting back and forth with buckets that sloshed dangerously close to anyone in range.
Samantha glanced at them, then at me, a mischievous spark in her eyes.
“Looks fun, doesn’t it?” she said.
I hesitated. “They’re, uh… half my size.”
She smirked. “So? I bet they’d still outrun you.”
“Hey—”
Before I could defend myself, she scooped up a handful of water and flung it at my chest. The splash hit squarely, cool against my still-sun-warmed skin.
I gasped. “You did not just—”
“Oh, I did.” She was already backing up, laughing. “Catch me if you can, architect.”
And just like that, I was in the game.
I lunged after her, sending a spray of water in her direction. She shrieked, darting sideways with surprising speed, her sundress plastering against her legs. We weaved between the laughing kids, who barely seemed to notice us joining in, too wrapped up in their own splashes and shrieks.
I chased, lunged, got splashed, laughed harder than I had in weeks. Saltwater stung my lips, my chest heaved, my shorts clung heavy. For a while, there was nothing but the sun, the sea, and Samantha’s laughter ringing above the waves.
It wasn’t until I slowed, doubled over and breathless, that I realized something else.
A subtle warmth. Not from the sun.
My stomach dropped.
I froze, water lapping at my knees as the reality set in: somewhere between the chasing and laughing, my body had let go without me noticing. Not completely—just enough to dampen the padding under my shorts, enough that I could feel the difference instantly.
Panic rushed in, hot and sharp. I glanced around wildly, certain someone would know, certain the kids or parents or anyone on the beach could somehow see straight through me.
Samantha appeared at my side, still laughing softly, her cheeks flushed from the chase. Her grin faltered when she caught my expression. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
I swallowed hard, words sticking in my throat. My hands curled into fists at my sides.
She stepped closer, her voice dropping low, private. “Alex?”
I forced the words out in a whisper. “I… I think I had a… a little accident.”
For a moment, silence. Then her lips curved, soft but amused.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, brushing a wet strand of hair off my forehead. “Got too busy playing, huh?”
Her tone wasn’t sharp or mocking—just warm, like she’d expected this all along. But the tease in her words still made my ears burn.
I stared down at the foamy water swirling around us. “What if someone notices?”
“No one will.” She squeezed my hand, firm. “It’s between us. Promise.”
The knot in my chest loosened, just a little.
“Besides,” she added, leaning close enough that her lips brushed my ear, “good thing we came prepared.”
That earned a groan from me, half mortified, half relieved. She chuckled quietly, the sound almost lost in the surf.
“Come on,” she said more brightly, tugging my hand. “I think we’ve earned a break. And maybe something cold.”
I followed, still tense, but her easy stride and calm smile steadied me. We left the water behind, returning to our spot on the blanket. I sank down onto my towel, heart still racing for different reasons now. Samantha knelt by the cooler, rummaging with exaggerated purpose.
“Aha,” she declared, pulling out a folded bill. “Ice cream stand time.”
I blinked. “Wait, now?”
“Yes, now.” She waved the bill like a flag. “You, my dear, deserve a reward for surviving your first water battle. And maybe… for being such a messy little beach bum.”
I groaned, hiding my face in my towel. “You’re never gonna let me live that down.”
“Not a chance,” she said cheerfully. Then, softer: “But don’t worry. Only I noticed. Promise.”
The reassurance wrapped around me, easing the lingering panic.
“Stay here, dry off. I’ll grab us something sweet.”
I watched her head across the sand toward the snack stand, her dress swaying, hat shielding her from the sun. Alone on the blanket, I tried to breathe, to settle. The accident still pressed at the edges of my thoughts, but the world around me—the crash of waves, the squeals of kids, the endless horizon—kept tugging me back into the moment.
By the time Samantha returned, balancing two dripping cones, I was almost calm.
“Ta-da,” she announced, handing me one. “One vanilla-chocolate twist for my sleepy splash champion.”
I accepted it carefully, already bracing for disaster. The first lick proved me right—soft-serve in the summer heat was impossible to manage. Within seconds, my fingers were sticky, a bead of ice cream sliding dangerously toward my wrist.
Samantha giggled. “Unbelievable. I leave you alone for five minutes and you’ve already made a mess of yourself.”
“I’m trying,” I protested, fumbling with a napkin.
She reached over, plucking the cone from my hand. “Here, before you lose it completely.”
She held it steady, lifting it toward my mouth. “Open up.”
I stared. “Are you serious?”
Her grin widened. “Dead serious.”
Heat flared in my cheeks, but my mouth opened anyway, closing around the swirl of cold sweetness she offered.
“There,” she said softly, easing the cone back. “Much better.”
Each bite after that came at her pace, her hand steady, her eyes sparkling with both mischief and care. I felt absurd and cared for all at once, the embarrassment tangled with a strange comfort I couldn’t deny.
By the time the cone was gone, my hands were sticky, my cheeks warm, and Samantha was smirking like she’d won some unspoken game.
“See?” she said, wiping a dab of chocolate from my chin with her thumb. “You do better when someone helps.”
I didn’t have a response, not one that would make sense. So I just groaned and leaned back on the blanket, letting the sun and her laughter wash over me.
The crash of the waves and the warm press of the sun had slowed everything down into a lazy hum. After the ice cream, neither of us felt much like moving. Samantha stretched out on the blanket with her hat tipped over her face, arms folded loosely behind her head. I lay beside her, towel wrapped snug around my shoulders, the steady rhythm of the surf tugging me toward a dazed kind of stillness.
Salt crusted at my hairline, my lips still sticky from the last bite of cone she’d fed me. My body felt heavy in the best way — like all the chasing and splashing had drained me into something loose and pliant.
I blinked slowly, gaze drifting over the kids still shrieking down by the shoreline, then toward the wide blue sky above. The sunlight poured so bright through my eyelids that I had to squint even when I closed them.
Somewhere nearby, Samantha’s voice murmured through the haze: “Getting sleepy?”
I hummed, the sound escaping before I could think better of it.
She lifted the brim of her hat, smiling at me from beneath the shadow. “Thought so.”
I rolled onto my side, half burying my face in the towel. “M’not.”
“Sure you’re not,” she said, brushing a hand lightly over my damp hair. “Go ahead, close your eyes. I’ll keep watch.”
It was said lightly, like a joke, but it wrapped around me in a way I didn’t expect — a soft invitation that made resisting harder than giving in. My eyes slipped closed. The world narrowed to the heat of the sun, the salty air, and Samantha’s presence beside me, steady and safe.
I must have dozed, because when I blinked awake again, the shadows had shifted. The sun had dipped lower, and the kids by the shore had thinned to only a couple stragglers. My body was warm, pliant, my limbs stiff from stillness.
Samantha sat cross-legged on the blanket beside me, flipping lazily through a paperback. When she noticed me stir, she set it down and grinned.
“Well, look who decided to rejoin the land of the living.”
I groaned, sitting up slowly. My towel slipped, and she caught it, tugging it back around my shoulders with an easy firmness.
“You looked like a burrito when you were all wrapped up,” she teased. “A very sleepy burrito.”
I rubbed my eyes, cheeks warm. “You could’ve woken me.”
“Why would I do that? You looked adorable.”
Her words landed like a pebble dropped in water — ripples spreading outward, leaving me flustered but secretly warmed. I pulled the towel tighter around myself, unsure what to do with my hands.
She clapped her own together suddenly. “Alright, mister. Nap time’s over. One last adventure before we pack up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Adventure?”
“Sandcastle redemption.” She pointed dramatically toward the ruins of our earlier attempt, now half-collapsed under the tide. “That tragedy cannot be the final legacy of this day.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “That was your idea.”
“And I need you as my construction crew.” She stood, tugging my arm until I stumbled up beside her. “Come on.”
We trekked back toward the shoreline, settling where the sand was damp but not yet claimed by the surf. Samantha crouched and began scooping handfuls, piling them with brisk determination.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” she said. “Big central tower, two smaller ones on the sides, and maybe—” she paused, eyes gleaming mischievously— “a moat. Because what’s a castle without a moat?”
“A pile of sand?” I offered.
She flicked a bit of damp sand at me. “Don’t sass your foreman. Dig.”
And so I dug. For the next stretch of time, there was only the scrape of shells in the sand, the trickle of water as we poured bucketfuls into the moat, and Samantha’s steady stream of playful commentary. She declared herself “queen of the castle” as soon as the central tower rose high enough to be vaguely recognizable, then insisted I “swear loyalty” by smoothing its walls with my hands.
“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered, but I still did it.
By the time we finished, the castle was a lopsided but determined structure, ringed by a shallow moat filled with seawater that kept draining away no matter how many times we refilled it. Samantha planted a little flag in the center made from a stick and a scrap of napkin.
“There,” she announced proudly, brushing sand from her knees. “A true work of art.”
I sat back on my heels, grinning despite myself. “It’s definitely something.”
She gave me a mock glare, then softened, leaning back beside me. The tide crept closer, licking at the edges of the moat.
“It won’t last long,” I said quietly.
“Exactly.” She rested her chin on her knees. “That’s what makes it fun. You build it, enjoy it, and let the waves take it back.”
Something about her words stuck, weaving together with the whole day — the laughter, the accident, the nap. Fleeting, maybe a little embarrassing, but also strangely freeing.
The sun slid lower still, the sky turning shades of peach and gold. Samantha finally stood, brushing sand from her legs.
“Alright, castle crew. Time to pack up before it gets dark.”
Reluctantly, I followed. We gathered towels, shook sand from the blanket, tucked the cooler under one arm. Samantha helped me shrug back into my shirt, tugging it down with a little pat at my side that made me flush.
“Still comfy?” she asked softly, meaning more than just the shirt.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Her smile was small but warm.
We walked back toward the car, the sand cooling beneath our feet, our shadows long and stretched. Samantha hummed lightly under her breath, some half-forgotten tune that mixed with the sound of the waves behind us.
By the time we reached the parking lot, my legs felt heavy again, not with embarrassment this time but with the sweet ache of a full, sun-drenched day. Samantha opened the car, tossed the cooler into the back, then gestured toward the passenger seat.
“Up you get,” she said gently, almost like coaxing.
I slid in, towel still draped around me like a cocoon. She buckled her own seatbelt, then leaned across to tug mine into place too, the click of the latch oddly grounding.
“There we go,” she murmured, brushing my damp hair once more before pulling away from the beach.
The horizon blazed orange and pink in the rearview mirror as the car rumbled forward, carrying us away from the sand and salt and laughter. My eyelids drooped, heavier with each mile.
The last thing I remembered before drifting was the faint scent of sunscreen and the quiet reassurance of Samantha’s presence beside me, steady on the road home.
The End of Summer of Soft Sunshine – Chapter One – First Sunlight Splash
This story is generated whit help of https://chatgpt.com/
If you want to read more boy ralted abdl stories like this one you can find it here.