I am never one to make quick decisions. I always hold back, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, or the things I could miss out on. No matter what I choose to do, I almost always regret it. It's a bad habit, but I never choose now. While making my own decisions, I take a century to make one, only to then instantly think that it isn't a good one, so the cycles continues. With others, I don't have the time to sit and contemplate. So when my friends ask me anything, I leave it up to them to choose. I let whatever group I choose to pick a topic for our project. I let my dad and sister pick out the toppings in our pizza. It's stupid, but even the smallest bad choices I make gives me the feeling that everyone around me would spontaneously combust.

"Wendy, we need more cones!" Ms. Ann calls from the front.

I try to balance the other containers of sprinkles, fruits, and syrups in my arms. Using only a few of my free fingers, I carefully pluck the box of cones off the storage rack and quickly return to the front. Once there, I release everything and it cascades onto the counter. My hands move fast, trying to reorganize things for Ms. Ann to use.

Ever since our Valentine's Day promotion the shop has been busy. I worry sometimes since I'm the only employee Ms. Ann has. I only work full days on the weekends, but I don't get to work on weekdays until 6, since I also have cooking club.

Our latest promotion has been the one-foot tall swirl cone, which has unique flavors switched daily. While it's helping Ms. Ann raking in money, we didn't expect how long and tedious it would be to balance so many swirls of cream onto a skinny sugar cone.

Nowadays, we close up shop really late. After tasting sweet success, Ms. Ann refuses to turn away any customers. Plus, our counters are a mess by the end of the day, and we have to restock on almost everything.

"Ms. Ann, you should hire some more people. It's getting too busy around here."

"Hell no! I'm going to invest my money into paying off my debt," Ms. Ann stubbornly refuses, counting the register cash.

"Still, you should at least get someone to help you on weekdays. You don't want to overwork yourself."

"That'll be the reason why I'm overworked. They'll just come along and mess everything up. I got you and that's enough," she insists.

"Ms. Ann, may I leave to go buy my sister some baseball gear?"

"You've been saying that for weeks now."

"Oh-well... The manager-he said that...it was out of stock-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go and gawk at Vincent," she chuckles, happily pocketing the day's revenue into her apron.

"I'm...not..."

"Whatever you say." She hums her way back into her office, now decluttered thanks to me.

I place my apron into my employee locker before making my way to the sport's gear shop. Since I've been going out too late, Vincent always leaves before I get to the shop. I always proceed by quickly scanning the place, my eyes not landing on any object in particular as I always fright what I came for, and awkwardly walk out the confusion of his coworkers. The same will probably happen today, but I can't help being drawn to go.

"Hi," a girl organizing the front display of water bottles greets.

"Hi," I reply, quiet in tone.

"Anything in particular I can help you with?"

"Not really."

"Well, alright. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me."

"Thanks."

My mind is already starting to wander. What did I need again? Oh, right. Baseball gear for Wren. Wait, she already has plenty from Christmas. I forgot.

I pretend to walk about for a while, since it would be weird if I left right away again. Checking the baseball section, I try to find anything Wren could possibly need, to which I don't.

"Looking for something?"

"Oh!" I turn around and try to suppress my sudden enthusiasm. "Hey, Vincent," I try to say much more casually.

"Let me guess. Buying something for Wren again?"

"Um, yeah. A bike."

"We don't sell bikes here."

"That explains why I couldn't find them."

Vincent has his hands shoved into the pockets of the windbreaker I got him, which is the nicest thing on him. His dark and messy mop of hair is gathered underneath an old, white baseball cap. His white sneakers are stained with grass and mud marks, as are his ripped jeans. Despite all fo this, he looks like, he just walked out of a photoshop for some hip and urban magazine.

"What happened?" I point to his clothes, not realizing how rude I may have come off.

"Oh, I did some volunteer work with plants before going to work."

"That's nice."

"I heard you're the president of the cooking club now. Congrats."

"Oh yeah, thanks."

"Got plans over spring break?"

"Not really. Work probably. You?"

"Same."

"If you don't have any plans, you should go to the lake tomorrow. The whole school's going to be there. It'll be fun," the girl who was stacking water bottles joins, standing slightly in front of me to face Vincent. I never saw her before, so it was to my surprise she goes to our school. Then again, my eyes are usually glued to my homework or I'm walking in the hallways with the mindset to get to class as fast as possible while staring at the shoes that pass by.

"No, thanks. I don't really like that kind of stuff," Vincent shrugs, stepping a bit to the side.

"It'll be fun. I'll be there," she says, as if her presence is an incentive for Vincent to come.

"Are you going, Wendy?"

"I'm not really sure. Ally and Carson talked about it, but I don't know if they plan to make me third-wheel."

"I'll go if you go. I won't know anyone else otherwise," Vincent says.

His coworker's smile was now withering into a grimace. "I'll be there," she adds again.

"I will probably come." I nod my head.

"Cool, I'll will probably too."

"We should carpool and save gas, Vincent," the girl suggests.

"No, thanks. I'm going to ride my motorcycle."

"That's perfect! I always wanted to ride one," she pipes up excitedly.

"Its dingy. Too weak to support two people. Sorry."

"Oh," her voice droops, "well, we can always do it another time."

"Are you on your way out, Wendy?"

"Um, yeah."

"Me too." Vincent slides past her and the shelf of baseballs to walk out beside me.

The next day, I prepare two full pans of brownies, since I am in charge of dessert. Ally and Carson are going to bring lunch and the drinks. I leave the third pan at home for Wren and Dad, which they demolished for breakfast.

Ally: Do you want us to pick you up?

Me: So I can watch you and Caron make out at every stop light? No thanks.

Ally: Suit yourself. You know the directions right?

Me: No, but there's something called GPS.

Ally: Damn, snarky much? Lol, I'll see you there.

Me: Alright.

Dad and Wren are sitting on the porch swing, sipping on lemonade and eating sliced apples when I come out.

"Why did you make the poor boy wait for an hour?" Dad scolds.

"What boy?"

"Vincent," he points to Vincent, who's a distance away near the park bench. He sits on the side of the street tapping his foot on the pavement. His head tilts up and his body jolts forward, shuffling randomly around his motorcycle.

"I didn't tell him to come."

"You didn't?" Confused, Dad leans back in his seat.

"Well, he's been here for about half an hour," Wren shrugs. She exchanges an amused expression with Dad, and together they sip on their iced drinks.

"Stay out of trouble you too," I wave to them.

"We should be telling you that," Wren yells.

As I reach for my car door, Vincent pulls up.

"Hey," I say to him.

"Hey."

"Motorcycle fine?"

"Yeah, I was just checking the wheels," he explains, pointing back to where he had parked.

"Cool."

"Well, you know... since we're both going, why don't we go together?"

"I thought your motorcycle can't hold up two."

Vincent looks at me with puzzlement for a few seconds before replying excitedly, "I just got it fixed."

"Oh, that's good. Well, I have to bring all these brownies with me so..." We both glance down at the large container of brownies in my arms.

"Oh..."

"Grab a bag you idiot!" Wren yells from the porch.

"Don't call your sister that!" I hear Dad scold.

"I'll go grab a bag. Wait a bit." I quickly slip inside and grab a tote bag. After placing the bakes inside, I climb onto the motorcycle, tote slung on my right shoulder.

"You should probably hold on," Vincent suggets.

"Right," I nod, lightly placing my hands on his sides.

The whole ride felt so fleeting, short enough to make me feel like I held my breath the entire time.

The entire lake was crowded. One side was full of families- moms suntanning on beach towels, dads splashing around with their kids in the water, and some toddlers waddling about the sand. On the other side was completely different. Full of outrageously loud and energetic teens excitedly messing around- propelling each other into the water, hurling sand at girls who screech in fear for their freshly curled waves, drinking alcohol they don't bother to conceal. Carson and Ally managed to claim a picnic table, cuddling with each other in the midst of chaos.

"You're here...with Vincent...and brownies!" Ally exclaims with increasing enthusiasm, reaching her peak when I pull out the brownies.

"Hey." Carson and Vincent greet each other with the common "bro hug" that's I can never seem to understand.

"Where's your swimsuit?" Ally asks, pointing to her own flowery print ones.

"Oh, I didn't know we were going to swim," I shrug.

"What do you think we were doing at a lake party?" Carson rhetorically asks.

"Well, I don't know, maybe picnic. Canoe. We did that when we went on a double date, Ally."

"You went on a double date? With who?" Carson turns to Ally.

"With Bryan. Babe, he was an ass. On the other hand, you have an ass." Ally playfully reaches over to squeeze Carson's behind while Vincent and I look on with horror.

"Yeah, we're leaving." Vincent groans. I nod and follow Vincent to the water. On the way, he peels off his shirt and tosses it onto the glued faces of Carson and Ally.

Luckily, I wore denim shorts, allowing me to get the water below my mid thigh. Though I'm sure Vincent didn't bring a change of pants, he dipped himself into the water with no hesitation. After submerging himself, his head popped out, flipping back his hair in a way that was like in those cliche movies, looking like he appeared straight out of one.

"Wow, Vincent. You look like you're trying to seduce every girl here," his coworker says, emerging from her group.

"Just one," Vincent chuckles.

"I hope you're not talking about me."

"Don't worry. I'm not," he laughs, thinking that she was joking about considering his advances.

"You're not?" she laughs half heartedly.

"Oh, I didn't mean-" Vincent starts to apologize.

"Don't worry. I was just teasing you." Her tone was forced, making quite obvious she didn't mean it.

"CANNON BALL!" some screams from behind me. I raise my hands to cover my head from the incoming impact, but Vincent pulls me towards him, wrapping his arm around my waist. Our eyes meet, but a curtain of water cuts it off in a second.

"Watch where you're jumping. You could've hit her!" Vincent glares.

"Sorry dude," he guy laughs, continuing to get rowdy with his friends who had tossed him in my direction.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. So much for keeping my clothes dry though," I lightly laugh, pulling my soaked hair back.

Vincent's coworker started to wipe away the water from her face, groaning due to her ruined curls. Even her waterproof mascara was struggling to cling on, beginning to drop dark specks on her damp cheeks.

"Do you want some beer? My friends brought some,"she asks.

"No thanks," Vincent politely declines. Turning to me, he points to my sodden tank top. "Are you going to be cold?"

"No, I'll be fine." Right at that moment, my nose decided to mess with me and send me into a series of sneezes.

"You should change into my shirt."

"No, it's allergies. That's all."

"Allergies as an excuse again?"

"Guys! Time to eat!" Ally yells from the sand, directing us towards the picnic table.

Vincent seems to have forgotten he was still holding onto me. I seem to have done the same, since we realize that we were inches from each other. Slowly, Vincent drops his arm, and I take a step back.

"We-" he begins.

"We-" I accidentally interrupt.

"You-"

"You-"

"We should-"

"Um, yeah-"

"Eat-"

"Yeah..."

"Okay..."

For a while, we almost forgot we were in a fight- that we were no longer friends. We acted from habit from each other, but there is still a palpable tension from our unresolved relationship. I have a feeling he is thinking the same while we stand here in the lake, staring blankly at each other. I should ask him to clarify everything- if he really meant what he said, if we could still be friends, if he is still mad at me. But my fear of spontaneous combustion crept up, and I silently followed him out of the water.

We sat in silence while we munched on brownies, hotdogs, and drank iced tea. Carson and Ally seem to sense the tension, retreating back to the water shortly after eating.

"Hey!" a guy starts to approach us, his tensed arms swinging with clenched fists. At first, we both assum it was directed at someone else, so we turn away.

"I'm talking to you, asshole," the guy repeats, stopping at our table. Then came hopping Vincent's coworker across the sand.

"Axel! Axel! Stop!" Her tone was intended to show concern and worry, but her expression said otherwise, showing a mix of bashfulness, excitement, and flirtation.

"You've been hitting on my girlfriend?" the guy growls at Vincent.

"I only talked to her because I work with her," Vincent sighs in annoyance it seems.

"So what? You're too good for her?"

I try to assess the situation, confused on why the guy was upset. At first, it was because he though Vincent was interested in his girlfriend. But now, he was agitated because Vincent wasn't.

"Please, stop. Don't fight over me," she says, so relaxed that it carried no urgency or plea.

The guy flips over the tray of brownies, sending them tumbling over the table and into the sand to be caked. At that moment, Vincent, who seemed so passive, suddenly exploded and slammed his first on the table before standing up to face the boyfriend.

"Fucking leave," he growled so low, it was like he huffed it out as a breath.

"You fucking asshole. Don't you dare go near my girlfriend," the guys warns, shoving Vincent back.

Vincent staggers slightly, but remained grounded.

"I'm not interested in your girlfriend okay? Vincent scoffs.

"You're not?" she asks, slightly in a whine.

I stand up and try to reseat Vincent by pulling in his wrist.

"Careful, Wendy," he shakes his head, trying to get me to sit down instead.

"You arrogant fuck!" He grabs a nearby lawn chair, hurling in into the direction of Vincent's stomach. The lake becomes a blur of brown, gray, blue, and tan. There's a jolt in my shoulder and I could feel my knee dive into the heaps of sand. An arm wraps around my upper back and the other around my head.

"Are you crazy? Why did you hit her?" Vincent yells.

"Oh shit. I didn't- I didn't mean to hit her!"

I unclench my eyes to see my face pressed on Vincent's chest.

"Are you okay, Wendy? It didn't hit you in the head, right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I murmur.

By the time I turn around, the guy has already scampered off, along with his girlfriend.

"That seemed like it hurt," he groans.

"No it's fine-" I suddenly wince when Vincent examines my back shoulder.

"It's going to bruise,"he frowns.

I could not comprehend what I just did. Did I jump in front of Vincent? That fast?

"Why did you step in front of me?" Vincent scolded, checking my other shoulder.

"I had to protect that precious pride of yours. Couldn't let them see you bawl like a baby," I tease.

"It's unbelievable how you can joke after getting a chair thrown at you."

"Are you okay, Vincent?"

"You're the one I'm worried about."

"At least you're not hurt."

"I think you getting injured hurts me a lot more than if I got hurt myself."

I breath hung on his words. Vincent stopped, shyly draw back his hands and let in fall down beside me while he continued to kneel down. The crashing of water and shuffling of sand continued in the back. Kids bobbed in water as their dads splashed water on top of them. Music blasted as teens cheered and tossed each other about. Only we seemed to be still, Vincent and I. Somewhere in my mind, I was maybe taking a picture to never forget the way Vincent's green eyes shone like the moon, even in the bright day.

I can't explained how my feet carried me in front of Vincnet. It wasn't even a decision, much more like impulse. Maybe it was a decision that I had made long before- something that my heart had decided on since I met Vincent.