Phil

Summer camp. The sun is blazing. Birds are singing. Not far from the camp is a river where both children and counselors swim. Among them, you are a 16-year-old girl. You have always loved adventure. And boys loved you.

You met Phil seven years ago. You became close friends. And now you're in the same camp, but in different squads.

Today, when the sun was too hot for your body, you went to the cool river. The soft grass rustled softly under your feet, and a gentle breeze made your red curls curl in the air.

As you approached, you saw Phil lying on the grass, his hands under his head, his T-shirt pulled over his face, revealing his sculpted abs.

“Wow,” you whistled.

“Freckle?” he muttered sleepily, removing his T-shirt from his face.

He froze for a second, looking at your bright smile. Your white dress fluttered in the wind, as did your curls. You knelt in front of him. He slowly rose. Looking into your light eyes, he swallowed tensely.

—Damn, why are you so beautiful, Freckle? I'm speechless.