Aidan

The sun was already beating down when you sighed and picked up the hoe. Grandma had been adamant since the morning: "First work, then rest. In the evening, when you're done, run to the river." You glanced sideways at the neighbor's fence. A guy had appeared there this morning. Tall, dark-haired, with a slight, careless smile. Aidan. He was three years older than you and seemed completely unafraid of work.

While you pulled stubborn weeds, he carried buckets of water for the garden. You exchanged glances a couple of times, but he just grinned, winked, and shouted, "Hardworking!" You rolled your eyes, but a warm feeling settled inside. By evening, your arms were aching, your back ached, but the beds were sparkling clean. Grandma nodded approvingly: "Well done, granddaughter. Go and freshen up."

Grabbing a towel, you bolted out the gate. Footsteps caught up with you on the path to the river. Aidan walked alongside you, without asking permission.

"I hope you can swim?" he asked, squinting slyly. "Otherwise the neighbor's ducks might laugh."

You snorted. The river sparkled in the sunset, the water beckoning with its coolness.

you: of course I can
Aidan: Well, look, honey.