Shadows By The Poolside

“FIFTEEN LOOKS OLD ON YOU!”

Arielle’s fifteenth birthday began with sunlight spilling into her room like warm gold, stretching across the soft lilac curtains her mother had recently bought from the market. Mrs. Thompson had woken her with a gentle kiss on her forehead, humming “Happy Birthday” in that warm, soothing voice Arielle always loved. The house felt alive that morning—Noah had placed balloons along the staircase, Maxwell brought a small wrapped gift even though the party wasn’t until evening, and Bryson… well, Bryson had burst into her room without knocking and shouted, “FIFTEEN LOOKS OLD ON YOU!” only to get chased back into the hallway with a pillow.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, their backyard transformed into a lively celebration. Streamers danced from the trees, kids from school gathered around tables of snacks, and music played from the old speakers Noah set up. The smell of barbecue drifted through the air while the sun dipped lower into a soft orange hue.

Arielle wore a lavender dress Noah had helped her choose earlier that week. Everyone had agreed it suited her perfectly. Max had said she looked “graceful,” Noah said “soft like a novel character,” and Bryson, in his usual dramatic way, said she looked “like trouble wrapped in purple.” She laughed at him, but the words lingered warmly.

The whole evening felt magical—until it wasn’t.

It was almost sunset when Bryson approached her quietly. He wasn’t smiling, not teasing, not making a joke. His face looked serious, almost nervous. It was strange seeing him like that. He asked if he could talk to her alone, so she followed him behind the shed, where the noise of the party faded a little.

He stood there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the ground before finally meeting her eyes.

“Arielle,” he began, voice uncharacteristically soft, “I need to tell you something.”

Her heart skipped. She didn’t know why—maybe because Bryson was never this calm.

“I like you,” he blurted out. “Not like… regular like. I mean, I really like you. For a long time. And I know it’s your birthday, and maybe this is a stupid idea, but I just… I had to tell you.”

Arielle froze. She had known him her whole life—through scraped knees, secret jokes, tree climbing, food fights, and endless afternoons. She cared about him deeply, but not like that.

“Bryson,” she said gently, “you’re important to me. You really are. But… I don’t feel the same way. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

He blinked rapidly, then smiled—too quickly, too brightly.

“It’s fine,” he said, shrugging stiffly. “Totally fine. Don’t worry. I just thought I should try. No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. She could see it in the way he avoided her eyes when they returned to the party. He still joked, still laughed, still played around, but there was a tightness in his expression—something bruised, something resentful. And Arielle, sensitive as always, felt the weight of it pressing on her chest all night.

By the time midnight rolled across the sky, the guests had left. The backyard was quiet, littered with ribbons and empty cups. Arielle couldn’t sleep, so she climbed the stairs to the rooftop—a place she often went when she needed air. The wind was cool, brushing against her cheeks as she sat cross-legged near the edge, watching the moonlight shimmer on the distant rooftops.

She didn’t expect Noah to find her. But he did.

The door creaked open, and he stepped out, rubbing his arms from the cold. “I knew you’d be up here,” he said with a small smile, walking over.

Arielle didn’t turn immediately. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Shouldn’t the birthday girl be downstairs celebrating?”

She sighed. “My birthday is over.”

“No, it’s not,” Noah said, sitting beside her. “You just turned fifteen a few hours ago. The universe is still adjusting.”

She laughed quietly. “That’s not how it works.”

“It is to me,” he replied, nudging her shoulder. “So why do you look like you lost a million dollars?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Lies,” he said simply. “You only come to the rooftop when you’re actually thinking too much. Tell me.”

Arielle hesitated, staring at her hands. The wind tugged lightly at her dress. She didn’t want to betray Bryson, didn’t want to make him look bad, but the hurt she felt from rejecting him tugged even harder.

“It’s Bryson,” she finally whispered.

Noah raised a brow. “What about him?”

“He… he confessed to me,” she said softly. “Earlier. Behind the shed.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “WHAT?”

Arielle winced. “Keep your voice down.”

“He confessed? Today?” Noah asked, sounding half shocked, half amused. “On your birthday?”

She nodded.

Noah pressed his lips together, then burst into laughter. “Oh my God. You—Mrs. Bryson?”

Arielle smacked his arm. “Stop! It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Noah insisted, still laughing. “Bryson? Out of all days? He really thought he’d sweep you off your feet on your birthday?”

“It’s not funny,” she repeated, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “I rejected him, Noah. I felt so bad. He tried to act like it was okay, but I could tell he was upset. Bryson may be mischievous but he’s a sweet person. I don’t like hurting him.”

Noah leaned back, resting his elbows on the floor. “Bryson is Bryson. He’ll be dramatic for a few days, maybe throw a tantrum at Maxwell, maybe steal the ball at practice and refuse to pass it for an hour… but he’ll be fine.”

Arielle sighed again. “Promise me you won’t tell Max. Or let Bryson know I told you.”

Noah paused. Something warm flickered in his eyes. “So I’m the only one who gets to know?”

“Yes.”

His expression softened, a small smile growing slowly. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

The wind carried their laughter into the night. Something about the moment felt gentle—like the universe had granted them their own quiet space away from everything else. Noah didn’t say it, but he felt grateful. Arielle trusted him. Out of everyone, she came to him with something personal. Something fragile.

A secret.

He tucked that feeling into his chest like a treasure.

The next morning, the sun found all four friends together again. Maxwell arrived early, ready to help clean up the birthday mess. Bryson came later, loud as usual, pretending as if nothing unusual had happened the day before. But Arielle noticed the way he avoided her eyes, how he joked a little too hard, laughed a little too loudly, and nudged Max too aggressively during their teasing. She pretended not to notice. She didn’t want to make things worse.

Their friendship, as messy as it was, still felt like the safest part of her life. The four of them running around the yard, shouting and laughing like they were eight again. Noah chasing Bryson with a broom. Maxwell scolding them. Arielle hiding behind the tree, giggling into her hands. No matter what changed, those little pockets of childhood kept returning—soft, uncomplicated, and full of warmth.

Later in the afternoon, they sat in a circle under the big mango tree. Bryson lay flat on his back, tossing pebbles into the air. Maxwell read a comic book. Noah doodled on the back of a paper plate. Arielle tore pieces of cupcake and shared them with all three boys.

Moments like this were what she lived for—moments where everything felt whole.

But even in the sunlight, shadows lingered. Bryson’s eyes softened whenever she looked away. Maxwell kept glancing between Bryson and Arielle like he sensed something unspoken. Noah watched them all, guarding the secret tucked inside him.

Everything felt familiar, but subtly… different.

That evening, as the sky faded into dusk, Arielle sat with her mother again—just like she had the night before, sharing laughter and stories. Mrs. Thompson held her daughter’s hands, smiling fondly.

“You’re fifteen,” she whispered. “My little girl is growing so fast.”

Arielle leaned against her. “I’m still your baby.”

“Well, yes,” her mother laughed. “But soon you’ll be twenty, living your own life, getting married—”

“Mom!” Arielle groaned dramatically.

They both burst into laughter again.

They didn’t know—couldn’t possibly know—how precious these peaceful moments truly were.

The soft evening breeze carried their laughter away, unaware of how fleeting it really was.