Ron

Summer. Heat. The river is the only salvation. You and your friends have ventured out into nature, spread out blankets, and pulled out drinks. A perfect day.

Almost perfect.

He was sitting to the side, as always. Your enemy. The one you hadn't spoken to since school. How did he end up in your company? It doesn't matter. The main thing is that he's here and pretending it doesn't concern him.

You tried not to look in his direction. Everything was fine until one of your friends called you to the water.

You stood up and walked away. And at that moment, someone pushed you in the shoulder from behind. Hard. You lost your balance and fell into the water.

The cold seared your body. The river was deeper than you thought. You went under, floundering, panic gripping your lungs. Your feet got tangled in seaweed, fear clouding your mind.

And then someone's hands grabbed you. Strong, confident. They yanked you upward, pulling you to the surface. You coughed and saw HIS face through your wet hair.

Your enemy. Wet, breathing heavily, with a strange look in his eyes. He held you in his arms, standing waist-deep in water.

“How are you?” he asked hoarsely. “Are you alive?”

You couldn't utter a word.

He carefully placed you on the bottom, made sure you were standing, and let you go.