Summer of Soft Sunshine – Chapter Two – Poolside Giggles
The pool shimmered like a giant blue mirror under the late afternoon sun. After the beach day, I thought I’d be used to the warmth, the brightness, the steady hum of summer, but stepping out into Samantha’s backyard felt different. The sand and salt air were gone, replaced by the sharper scent of chlorine, the steady buzzing of cicadas, and the warmth of sun-baked stone under my bare feet. It was quieter too, no distant shrieks of kids running along the shore, just the soft gurgle of the filter and the occasional rustle of the trees around the yard.
Samantha walked ahead of me, humming lightly to herself, carrying an armful of brightly colored pool toys — noodles, an inflatable ball, even a silly-looking floatie shaped like a donut. She looked completely at ease, her sandals slapping softly against the concrete. I, on the other hand, tugged nervously at the waistband of my swim shorts.
They felt tighter than before, and I knew why. Underneath, snug against my skin, was the soft padding she had insisted I wear. “Just in case,” she’d said earlier, as if that explained everything. I hadn’t argued — not really — but now, standing in her sunny backyard with no one around but her, I still felt the tension buzzing in my chest. It wasn’t like the beach, where the crowd was a shield. Here, it was only us, and somehow that made me feel more exposed.
“Hey, sunshine,” Samantha called over her shoulder, tilting her head with a grin. “You’re not chickening out on me, are you?”
“I’m not,” I muttered quickly, trying to keep my voice light. “I’m just… getting used to it.”
“Mm-hm,” she said, drawing the words out with playful suspicion. “Getting used to the water? Or getting used to…” She let her gaze fall deliberately toward my middle, then snapped it back to my eyes with a teasing sparkle. “…everything else?”
Heat rose to my cheeks instantly. “Both,” I admitted, my voice small.
Samantha’s grin widened, but she didn’t push it further. Instead, she plopped the pile of toys near the pool’s edge and turned to face me, brushing her hands against her shorts. “Good. Because we’re not wasting a perfect summer afternoon being nervous. Come on.”
I hesitated for just a moment longer before stepping forward. The concrete was warm but rough under my soles, and as I drew closer, the smell of chlorine got stronger. The pool surface rippled gently in the breeze, throwing little shards of sunlight against the fence.
Samantha dipped a toe into the water first, making a show of shivering. “Ooh, chilly!” she gasped, even though I knew the pool had been sitting in the sun all day. She glanced back at me, eyes glinting mischievously. “Bet you’re too chicken to jump in.”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at my mouth. “Am not.”
“Prove it.” She spread her arms wide, waiting.
I took a breath and, before I could second-guess myself, leapt in.
The water wrapped around me instantly, cool against sun-warmed skin, bubbles rushing past my ears as I kicked down and then pushed back up to the surface. I emerged with a gasp, blinking water out of my eyes, hair plastered against my forehead.
Samantha laughed, clapping her hands. “There he is! Brave boy after all.”
I tried to glare at her, but it fell apart into a grin as I splashed water in her direction. “Get in already!”
She squealed dramatically, shielding herself with one arm. “Okay, okay, you asked for it.” With a quick bounce on her toes, she dove cleanly into the water, cutting through the surface with barely a splash.
She surfaced right next to me, her smile wicked. “Gotcha!” Before I could react, she sent a wave of water straight at my face.
I sputtered, laughing, and retaliated, and soon we were both laughing too hard to care about who was winning.
The laughter eased something in me I hadn’t realized I was holding so tight. Here, in the quiet of her backyard, it was just us. No curious strangers, no distractions — only sunlight glinting on the water and Samantha’s easy, playful energy pulling me along.
Still, beneath the splashes and laughter, I couldn’t completely ignore the gentle bulk between my legs, soft but heavier now that it was soaked through. It wasn’t visible — at least, I didn’t think so — but I knew it was there, and the thought made me blush again. I turned my attention back to the game, but a part of me stayed hyper-aware.
“Hey,” Samantha said after a while, noticing my quieter strokes. She tilted her head, strands of wet hair sticking to her cheek. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, then hesitated. “It just… feels weird.”
Her gaze softened, though her smile didn’t fade. “Weird can be good. Weird just means new. And sometimes,” she flicked water lightly at my chest, “new is fun if you let it be.”
I swallowed, then gave a shaky laugh. “Easy for you to say.”
“Mm, maybe.” She drifted closer, her voice lowering, gentler now. “But I like seeing you try. That’s the brave part.”
Something warm settled in my chest at her words, stronger than the embarrassment. I let out a slow breath and nodded, letting myself float back a little. The sun was hot on my face, the water cool against my body, and Samantha’s presence steady beside me.
For the first time since stepping into the backyard, I felt the nerves start to fade.
The pool shimmered like a giant blue mirror under the late afternoon sun. After the beach day, I thought I’d be used to the warmth, the brightness, the steady hum of summer, but stepping out into Samantha’s backyard felt different. The sand and salt air were gone, replaced by the sharper scent of chlorine, the steady buzzing of cicadas, and the warmth of sun-baked stone under my bare feet. It was quieter too, no distant shrieks of kids running along the shore, just the soft gurgle of the filter and the occasional rustle of the trees around the yard.
Samantha walked ahead of me, humming lightly to herself, carrying an armful of brightly colored pool toys — noodles, an inflatable ball, even a silly-looking floatie shaped like a donut. She looked completely at ease, her sandals slapping softly against the concrete. I, on the other hand, tugged nervously at the waistband of my swim shorts.
They felt tighter than before, and I knew why. Underneath, snug against my skin, was the soft padding she had insisted I wear. “Just in case,” she’d said earlier, as if that explained everything. I hadn’t argued — not really — but now, standing in her sunny backyard with no one around but her, I still felt the tension buzzing in my chest. It wasn’t like the beach, where the crowd was a shield. Here, it was only us, and somehow that made me feel more exposed.
“Hey, sunshine,” Samantha called over her shoulder, tilting her head with a grin. “You’re not chickening out on me, are you?”
“I’m not,” I muttered quickly, trying to keep my voice light. “I’m just… getting used to it.”
“Mm-hm,” she said, drawing the words out with playful suspicion. “Getting used to the water? Or getting used to…” She let her gaze fall deliberately toward my middle, then snapped it back to my eyes with a teasing sparkle. “…everything else?”
Heat rose to my cheeks instantly. “Both,” I admitted, my voice small.
Samantha’s grin widened, but she didn’t push it further. Instead, she plopped the pile of toys near the pool’s edge and turned to face me, brushing her hands against her shorts. “Good. Because we’re not wasting a perfect summer afternoon being nervous. Come on.”
I hesitated for just a moment longer before stepping forward. The concrete was warm but rough under my soles, and as I drew closer, the smell of chlorine got stronger. The pool surface rippled gently in the breeze, throwing little shards of sunlight against the fence.
Samantha dipped a toe into the water first, making a show of shivering. “Ooh, chilly!” she gasped, even though I knew the pool had been sitting in the sun all day. She glanced back at me, eyes glinting mischievously. “Bet you’re too chicken to jump in.”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at my mouth. “Am not.”
“Prove it.” She spread her arms wide, waiting.
I took a breath and, before I could second-guess myself, leapt in.
The water wrapped around me instantly, cool against sun-warmed skin, bubbles rushing past my ears as I kicked down and then pushed back up to the surface. I emerged with a gasp, blinking water out of my eyes, hair plastered against my forehead.
Samantha laughed, clapping her hands. “There he is! Brave boy after all.”
I tried to glare at her, but it fell apart into a grin as I splashed water in her direction. “Get in already!”
She squealed dramatically, shielding herself with one arm. “Okay, okay, you asked for it.” With a quick bounce on her toes, she dove cleanly into the water, cutting through the surface with barely a splash.
She surfaced right next to me, her smile wicked. “Gotcha!” Before I could react, she sent a wave of water straight at my face.
I sputtered, laughing, and retaliated, and soon we were both laughing too hard to care about who was winning.
The laughter eased something in me I hadn’t realized I was holding so tight. Here, in the quiet of her backyard, it was just us. No curious strangers, no distractions — only sunlight glinting on the water and Samantha’s easy, playful energy pulling me along.
Still, beneath the splashes and laughter, I couldn’t completely ignore the gentle bulk between my legs, soft but heavier now that it was soaked through. It wasn’t visible — at least, I didn’t think so — but I knew it was there, and the thought made me blush again. I turned my attention back to the game, but a part of me stayed hyper-aware.
“Hey,” Samantha said after a while, noticing my quieter strokes. She tilted her head, strands of wet hair sticking to her cheek. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, then hesitated. “It just… feels weird.”
Her gaze softened, though her smile didn’t fade. “Weird can be good. Weird just means new. And sometimes,” she flicked water lightly at my chest, “new is fun if you let it be.”
I swallowed, then gave a shaky laugh. “Easy for you to say.”
“Mm, maybe.” She drifted closer, her voice lowering, gentler now. “But I like seeing you try. That’s the brave part.”
Something warm settled in my chest at her words, stronger than the embarrassment. I let out a slow breath and nodded, letting myself float back a little. The sun was hot on my face, the water cool against my body, and Samantha’s presence steady beside me.
For the first time since stepping into the backyard, I felt the nerves start to fade.
Samantha guided me carefully to the pool steps, her hand steady at my back. The donut float bumped against the tiles as I clambered out, water streaming off me in shining rivulets. My swim shorts clung tight, and I was hyper-aware of the extra weight beneath them, the way it sagged just slightly more than before.
Samantha noticed, of course. Her gaze flicked down for a second, then up to my face, her lips tugging into the faintest smirk. But she didn’t say a word — at least not right away. Instead, she laid out a bright striped towel on the nearest lounge chair and patted it invitingly.
“Sit,” she said, almost like she was talking to a pet she adored.
I rolled my eyes but obeyed, sinking down onto the towel. The sun-warmed fabric was heavenly against my skin, soaking up the chill from the pool. I let out a sigh I didn’t mean to, closing my eyes for a second as my body sagged.
“There it is,” Samantha murmured, amused. “That’s the sound of someone who’s finally admitting they’re worn out.”
“I’m not—” I started, but she cut me off with a playful finger pressed to my lips.
“Hush. No excuses. Just relax.”
She draped another towel around my shoulders, tucking it close. Her movements were so automatic, so practiced, that it was easy to lean into them. I shivered slightly as the cooler air brushed over my damp skin, then warmed as the towel did its job.
Samantha crouched in front of me, tilting her head. “Comfy?”
I nodded, cheeks warm.
“Good.” She gave my knee a little pat before standing. “Stay right here. I’ll grab the snacks.”
The word alone made my stomach perk up. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until she said it. Sun, water, and play — they always left me starving, like I was half my age again.
While she ducked inside, I let my head fall back, the sunlight spilling across my face. My eyelids fluttered. The sound of water rippling in the pool, birds chirping in the trees, the faint hum of a lawnmower somewhere down the street — it all blurred together into something drowsy, safe.
By the time Samantha returned, balancing a tray with a tall glass of lemonade, a plate of fruit, and a couple of popsicles sticking up like bright flags, I was halfway to nodding off.
“Don’t you dare sleep on me yet,” she teased, setting the tray down on the little table beside my chair. “You need sugar and hydration first.”
She peeled open one of the popsicles and held it out to me. “Say ah.”
I groaned, opening one eye. “I can feed myself, you know.”
“Mm, but where’s the fun in that?” She wiggled it closer until it was practically touching my lips.
I gave in, biting at the tip. The icy sweetness shocked me awake, cold against my tongue. Juice dribbled down my chin immediately.
Samantha chuckled, reaching over with a napkin to wipe me clean before I could even react. “Messy,” she said softly. Not harsh, not critical — just a simple observation, paired with a smile that made my heart squeeze.
We fell into a rhythm: me taking small bites, her offering them with an exaggerated air of importance, dabbing away any drips. I should’ve felt silly, maybe even humiliated, but something about the way she handled it — light, easy, normal — made it strangely comforting.
By the time the stick was bare, I was grinning.
“There we go,” she said. “One happy Alex.”
I snorted. “For now.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got backup.” She pulled out the second popsicle and unwrapped it dramatically. “But you’ll have to earn this one.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “Earn it how?”
“By admitting what’s already obvious.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
Her gaze dipped, unmistakably deliberate this time, toward my lap. My face flared instantly hot.
“Sam—”
She grinned, biting the popsicle herself before answering. “You’ve been squirming ever since you got out of the water. I can practically hear the little swish every time you move. Admit it feels different, and this popsicle is yours.”
I buried my face in my hands. “You’re evil.”
“Evil with snacks,” she sang. “Best kind of evil.”
My heart thudded. Saying it out loud felt impossible — too much, too real. But the way she looked at me, playful yet patient, told me she wouldn’t push too far. She’d let me back out if I really needed to.
I peeked between my fingers, my voice barely above a whisper. “It… feels thicker.”
Her grin softened into something gentler. “There it is.” She held out the popsicle in triumph. “See? Not so hard.”
I accepted it with trembling fingers, both embarrassed and oddly relieved. The cold sweetness steadied me, gave me something to focus on other than the hammering of my pulse.
Samantha leaned back in her chair, satisfied. “You’re braver than you think, Alex. You know that, right?”
I swallowed hard. “Doesn’t feel that way.”
“Mm, that’s because you’re judging yourself too much.” She reached over, brushing a damp lock of hair from my forehead. “From where I’m sitting? You’re doing amazing. Trying, trusting, letting yourself relax. That’s harder than any game we played in the pool.”
I stared at her, unable to come up with a response. The popsicle melted too quickly in my hand, dripping onto the napkin she’d already positioned under my fingers. She thought of everything.
When it was gone, and my towel was dotted with sticky sweetness she didn’t seem to mind, the drowsiness returned in full. My head lolled toward her shoulder. She didn’t move, just let me lean.
“You ready for a nap?” she asked softly.
I made a small noise — not quite yes, not quite no.
“That’s what I thought,” she murmured. “C’mon, lay down for a bit. The sun will dry you off the rest of the way.”
I stretched out on the lounge chair, my body heavy, eyelids fluttering. Samantha tugged the towel snug around me like a blanket, tucking it at my sides. Her hands were gentle, practiced, like this wasn’t the first time she’d swaddled someone into comfort.
As I drifted, I heard her humming faintly — some soft, wordless tune that mingled with the hum of summer all around us.
The last thing I registered before sleep pulled me under was her voice, quiet but certain:
“Good boy.”
And for once, I didn’t argue.
The first thing I noticed when I stirred was the quiet.
The pool had stilled into a glassy surface, the earlier splashing long gone. The lawnmower down the street was silent now, and the sun had shifted, lower, golden, spilling long shadows across the patio. I blinked drowsily, my head heavy and my mouth sticky-sweet from the memory of popsicles.
A soft weight rested against me — Samantha’s hand, idly stroking my arm through the towel.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispered when she felt me stir. “Did you have a nice nap?”
I groaned a little, rubbing my eyes. “I… wasn’t napping. Just resting.”
Her chuckle was warm, the kind that pressed straight into my chest. “Of course. Resting. With your mouth open, drooling a little. Totally different thing.”
I flushed, pulling the towel tighter. “You’re making that up.”
“Mm-hm. You keep telling yourself that, sunshine.”
Her teasing was feather-light, not meant to sting — just enough to make me squirm. She brushed a hand over my hair, smoothing it where it had dried into silly shapes. “You looked peaceful, though. That’s what matters.”
I swallowed, glancing toward the fading sun. “How long was I out?”
“Not long. Maybe half an hour. Long enough for your body to say ‘thank you’ after all that splashing.”
I shifted, suddenly aware again of the squishy weight beneath my swim shorts. The padding had warmed against me during the nap, reminding me of its presence in ways I couldn’t ignore. I shifted again, hoping she hadn’t noticed.
But of course she had.
Her eyes followed the movement with casual ease. “Still comfy?” she asked softly, as though it were the simplest, most natural question in the world.
I swallowed hard, words tangled in my throat. “…I guess.”
Her smile deepened, but she didn’t push. She just stood, offering me her hand. “Come on, let’s rinse off before we head inside. The chlorine will dry your skin out if you leave it.”
I let her lead me toward the outdoor shower by the pool fence. She turned on the spray, warm and light, and guided me under. The water cascaded over my shoulders, washing away the lingering stickiness from the popsicles. I kept my eyes down, cheeks hot.
But Samantha didn’t tease. She simply helped me lather a bit of soap, rinsed it gently from my arms, and handed me a fresh towel. Her care was efficient, matter-of-fact, and strangely soothing.
By the time we headed inside, twilight had deepened into that dusky blue that only comes in summer. The house was cool, shadows stretching long across the walls. Samantha ushered me toward the living room, where she’d already laid out a soft blanket on the couch.
“Sit,” she said again, that playful-commanding tone that always made my chest tighten.
I obeyed without argument this time.
She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tall glass of milk and a small plate of crackers. She set them down on the coffee table, then slipped a small, familiar shape from her bag.
My plushie.
The one I’d nervously accepted at the beach, thinking it would just be a one-time thing.
She placed it gently in my lap, no commentary, no teasing — just an offering.
I stared at it, frozen. My instinct was to push it away, to insist I didn’t need it. But the warmth of the day, the softness of my nap, the lingering security of her hand on my arm… it all tugged at me.
Slowly, hesitantly, I wrapped my fingers around the plush.
Samantha’s smile was small and knowing, but she didn’t gloat. Instead, she sank onto the couch beside me and draped the blanket over both of us.
“There we go,” she murmured. “Perfect ending to a summer day.”
I leaned against her, my head finding her shoulder almost automatically. She shifted just enough to make the position comfortable, then reached for the glass of milk.
“Here,” she said softly. “Small sips.”
I took the glass, cradling it in both hands, sipping slowly while she stroked my hair. The cool milk soothed my throat, chased away the lingering sweetness of sugar and chlorine.
When the glass was empty, she set it aside for me, then tucked the blanket closer. The plush was still nestled in my lap, my fingers stroking absentmindedly over its soft fur.
Samantha’s voice was low, almost a hum. “You did really well today, Alex. You let yourself have fun. You trusted me. And you rested when your body asked for it.”
I bit my lip. “It still feels… weird. Needing help.”
She tilted her head, kissing the top of mine with casual tenderness. “Everyone needs help. You’re just brave enough to admit it.”
Her words sank deep, past the layers of embarrassment and self-consciousness, landing in that vulnerable place I didn’t usually let anyone see.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I pressed closer, closing my eyes, breathing in the quiet comfort of the moment.
The sun had set fully now, and the house was wrapped in that hushed, sleepy calm that only came at the end of a long summer day. The pool outside reflected the first stars, shimmering faintly in the dark.
Wrapped in towel, blanket, and her steady presence, I felt small in the safest way.
And when she whispered, just before my eyes fluttered shut again, it felt like the most natural sound in the world:
“Goodnight, sunshine.”
The End of Summer of Soft Sunshine – Chapter Two – Poolside Giggles
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