Chapter One

Clearwater

I opened my eyes to see the skinny blonde ten-year-old boy staring back, collapsed on the ground just inches away, taking rapid, tired breaths. Soft locks of golden hair dangled in front of his tanned face, barely touching the sand below. He grinned the moment he knew he had my attention, and his bare shoulders tensed with overflowing excitement. I offered a simple, friendly grin in return.

"This is the best day of my life," he whispered, peering into my eyes, then looked away. "I got something for you," he continued in a louder voice, reaching into the pocket of his swim trunks. I watched with intrigue as he pulled out a little shell, and I propped my head up to take a look. It was gorgeous; creamy white in color, and adorned with exotic hazel streaks.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, playing up my excitement just a little. "That's amazing! Where'd you find that?"

He smiled. "It's a nautilus shell. I found it when I was walking over to the tide pools earlier. A wave almost took it, and I had to jump in the water to get it!" he explained, squeezing it in his palm. "Sorry that it's kinda small. But I still want you to have it," he said, handing it to me.

"It's not small," I said, studying it up close, admiring the beautiful thing nature had created. "I think it's just right. Great find!"

He giggled, "Thanks," then rolled onto his back. "Come on!" he yelled, pumping a fist into the air before standing up and attempting to pull me to my feet. "I wanna go back in the water!"

Two Weeks Earlier

Crashing waves, seagull squawks, imperceptible conversations in the distance. I let out a delighted breath. My days were sprinkled with these familiar sounds, originating from the beach and traveling across the thin, paved road, echoing around the extensive valley of shops and restaurants around where I worked. It was a welcome and calming distraction from the frustrations that came with selling toys to young children, like the obnoxious little girl who had just come into the store. 

Six-year-old Melanie wandered through the aisles, and though I couldn't see her, I knew she was causing trouble—she always was. I closed my eyes and pictured the ocean waves, pulling myself back into my happy place and away from the anxiety this girl often caused me, touching everything and rearranging all the carefully placed items on the shelves. It was only a matter of time before I heard the crash of falling toys, and the scolding of her father who wouldn't even bother to put the stuff back anyways. Only today, her dad wasn't with her, in his place an elderly woman I could only assume was her grandmother.

"Is that your granddaughter?" I called out to her from behind the shop counter, hoping she could recognize the annoyance in my folded arms, but she simply squinted behind her glasses and wandered over to me.

"You must be Annabelle's son," she said, smiling warmly.

"You know my mom?"

"Yes dear, she went to school with my daughter," she recalled in an exaggerated grandmotherly voice that sounded like something out of a cartoon. "Do you go to that same high school?"

I shook my head and told her I was a freshman at a college two states over, only working at my mom's toy store during summers. She widened her eyes upon hearing that I was nineteen, nodding along like I was explaining something complicated to her. 

"What?" I asked, recognizing her incredulity.

"I'm surprised is all," she replied, speaking slowly and clearly. "You look so young! I didn't think you could be older than sixteen. It must be nice," she smiled, and adjusted her glasses.

I blushed. "Thanks, ma'am."

The little girl walked up to her grandma clutching an old-school rag doll, shyly ignoring my gaze, even though we saw each other every week. "Gramma, I want this," she said, holding the doll up to her grandmother.

"Not today, dear, we're only looking today," she reminded the girl, stroking her long brown hair. "I haven't brought my purse."

"Hey, she can have it," I said to them, drawing surprised looks from both of them. "Just don't mention it to my mom," I whispered, and gave them a friendly smile.

Melanie gripped the doll closer to her chest. Though she got on my nerves most of the time, seeing other people happy, no matter who, was a big priority to me.

"That's very kind, dear. But—"

"It's fine, okay?" I interrupted, and took out my wallet. "My pleasure. Really, those things are only like ten bucks." I took a bill and stuffed it into the register.

"Dear, you are a peach," the grandmother said, reaching a hand out.

"Just don't pinch my cheeks, ma'am," I said with a laugh and leaned away.

"What is your name?" she chuckled.

"It's Logan!" Melanie answered for me, giggling as she hid herself behind her grandma.

"Thank you, Logan. Tell your mother that Linda's mom sends her regards."

"I will. You guys have a nice day!"

They left, leaving the store empty as it often tended to be. I first started working at the store when I was sixteen, and even then it seemed like we had more business. My mom always told me, Kids just don't want new toys like they used to. It was kind of her catchphrase growing up. The place had changed a lot since I first started working. That summer, on my first day back I came in to find that the walls had been repainted, the whole style of the place completely changed

The walls were decorated with all kinds of stuff that kids would enjoy. One wall was a forest, with all kinds of animals, like monkeys swinging in the trees, elephants, and even a unicorn. Another wall was a vast, grassy landscape, with two large rivers flowing through it, eventually convening into one big river. I personally liked that one a lot, often imagining myself relaxing there.

With the store empty, I walked over to the entrance, and took a look outside the window. Just down the long road of stores and restaurants was the beach, the place I longed to be. It was a hot day, and I closed my eyes, imagining the waves splashing over me, cooling me off. I was hoping for a beach day over the previous weekend, but it ended up raining from Friday to Sunday—just my luck.

After reclaiming my spot in the chair behind the counter, I nearly fell out of it when the front door opened briefly and slammed shut. I regained my balance and looked over to see what was going on.

There was a young boy outside, probably around nine or ten years old, pulling on the door with both hands, trying to open it, and I grinned to myself. He put one foot on the wall and tried pulling even harder, grimacing, before a woman of about thirty years old came up behind him and effortlessly pushed the door open. The bell on the door jingled behind them as they walked inside.

"Dork," she said under her breath, smirking at him. He squinted at her, but his messy medium-length sandy blonde hair that hung lazily over his eyes almost concealed the fact.

They were obviously beach-goers from the way they looked. The boy was exceedingly tanned, and had on a pair of lively green swim shorts, a white t-shirt, and slippers. A strong tan line peeped out from the bottoms of his shorts, and I felt a little jealous that he was getting the time in the sun that I longed for; there was nothing better than being a kid during summer. He turned away from his mom, and after spotting me, smiled a bright smile.

"Good afternoon!" he shouted theatrically across the store. His mom pushed him away into the aisles of toys, and his sandals slapped against the tile floor as he marched off on his long, skinny legs.

"Hi," I said as she walked up. She looked somewhere around thirty years old, wearing a simple gray dress with a sun hat, and removed the sunglasses that hid her striking green eyes.

"Hey. I'm trying to find some magic trick crap, preferably for a beginner," she said, tilting her head in the direction of her son, who was noisily rustling through something on the other side of the store. 

"Sure," I said, stepping out from behind the counter. "Follow me."

I led her to the aisle her son was in, which happened to be the aisle with all the magic toys and kits. He was crouched, face scrunched up cutely, absorbed in the text on the back of some box he was holding.

"So, I heard you like magic?" I asked him, trying to get his attention.

"Nope," he said without looking up. 

"Well, I thought I'd try magic, since I liked that stuff when I was a girl," she said, then lowered her voice. "I'm just trying to get him off Minecraft when he's at home. He can get... obsessive about things," she explained, peering over at the boy whose eyes were rapidly scanning over the small print. He finished reading, and set the box down on a shelf.

"Mom showed me a guy on YouTube who could shoot fire out of his hands! I wanna do that!" he said, pushing his palms out to imitate the guy. I swore I could make out the flickering flames and frantic bystanders in the reflections of his equally striking green eyes.

"That sounds like pretty advanced stuff," I said, and plucked a book from a nearby shelf. "You should try starting with something more simple, first. And less dangerous." I handed him the book, and he grinned as he took it from me, exposing a set of shiny white teeth. "You ever seen card tricks? There's some pretty crazy ones in here." He looked down at the book and flipped it open, leafing through the pages.

"That's perfect," his mom said. "Does it come with the cards?"

"Nah," I shook my head, "but they're cheap. Over here," I said, leading them over to another aisle. Unsurprisingly, the boy found and handed his mom a pack of Minecraft cards, and she rubbed her temple with one hand as she took them from him.

"Can I use the bathroom?" he blurted out as we walked back to the counter. I laughed and pointed him over to the small restroom tucked away in the corner of the store, and he scurried off.

"Sorry," his mom said. "He normally asks politely."

I chuckled and rubbed the back of my neck. "It's cool. I probably did the same thing at his age," I lied. I knew if I didn't have perfect manners as a kid, I would be feeling my mom's wrath.

"Nico!" she called out after paying for the items.

"I'm still going, jeez, Mom!" he called back, and I Iaughed. She saw me laughing and smiled.

"I'm Grace," she said, holding her hand out.

"Logan," I replied, shaking it.

The bathroom door burst open and the boy stepped out. "And I'm Nico!" he exclaimed, arms spread wide.

"Did you wash your hands?" Grace asked him, and he did a hasty one-eighty degree march back into the bathroom. 

"Pick a card!" Nico demanded in his raspy little voice, and sprouted an enthusiastic grin as he held several fanned out cards in front of him. I leaned over the counter and plucked the ten of hearts from the selection.

Nico had returned exactly one week later, and was eager to show me what he had learned. Grace watched us from nearby, leaned against the wall with a smirk and folded arms.

"Okay, now stick it in!" he eagerly commanded, holding out the split deck of cards, and I slipped it between them. "Cool, now I will spread it all out for you to see," he said, and spread the cards across the counter. He studied them closely, scanning them with his tongue peeking out of his lips.

"You forgot—" Grace began.

"Shhh! I'm concentrating." Without looking up, he pointed his finger at her from behind his back, and she rolled her eyes, then pushed his face close to the cards for about a minute. "Okay, I'm done. It's this one," he said, unceremoniously selecting the ten of hearts and holding it out to me. 

I looked down at the card with the pixelated Minecraft heart visuals. "That's it! Wow!" I said, copying Grace's smirk. "How'd you do that?"

"I know! It's magic. I just happen to be really good at it." He was beaming as he slid the card back into the deck and shoved it into his pocket.

"Tell Logan what happened to the other cards," she grinned. I did notice that there were less cards in the deck than there should have been.

"I spilled water on them. Do you have any games on your phone?" he asked, seemingly unconcerned.

I chuckled. "No, I don't really play stuff on my phone. There's some board games here, though."

"Cool! Can we play?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Logan has to work, honey," Grace told him, walking over and placing her hands on his shoulders. "Want to go down to the beach?"

"I could play," I offered. Grace looked at me like she was unsure, so I went on. "I mean, no one's here, it's been pretty slow today," I clarified. "And if someone does come in, we can just take a break."

Nico pumped a fist in the air. "Woohoo!"

"You sure?" she asked me quietly, and I nodded.

I grabbed an opened board game from the back room and we all went to sit on the floor off in a corner of the store. It was hardwood floor, but Nico was content to lie on his stomach as we played. Though Grace and I shaded ourselves from the hot sun, Nico was more than happy to bathe in the warm sunlight that poured over him from the window like syrup.

We spent the afternoon playing various board games and playfully ribbing each other. It felt like such a natural connection, like being with the family I never had. Since my dad lost his job when I was around Nico's age, he spent much of his time out of the house, often with friends, or at bars. We didn't have a bad relationship, but we were never as close as I would have liked to be. My older brother left for college when I was even younger, and I hadn't heard from him since. That left only my mom, who was always busy with the toy store, and though we got along well, I never really got to experience a normal family setting after I turned eight.

Grace had won for the second time in a row when I asked what her husband did. I noticed Nico's jubilant energy instantly subsided, and was replaced with a downward stare and quivering lips, realizing I had obviously brought up something difficult for him. Grace put an arm on his shoulder, and steered our conversation elsewhere. I wanted to know more, but held my tongue for the rest of the afternoon. After they said goodbye and headed off to the beach, I was left to wonder if Nico even had a father.

Familiar taco smells from the restaurant next door followed Grace through the front door of the toy store, snapping me out of my daydream. A week had gone by, with frequent visits from the two, so I had grown used to her showing up randomly.

"Hey you," she said.

"Hi, Grace. Where's the small one?" I asked.

"Down at the water. I'm just here to ask you something."

"Oh yeah?"

She placed a leg on one of the wooden benches I'd started leaving around for them and stretched. I had an easy time avoiding staring at her crop top and yoga pants, because she was nearly ten years older than me, and anything romantic was off the table. Still, I was starting to grow concerned that she was sometimes showing off and being flirty.

"Well, what is it?" I eagerly prodded.

She chuckled. "Would you like to go get some lunch with me, Logan?"

"Um... I think I—"

"Come on. I know it's your break in a minute." She saw me thinking about it and rolled her eyes. "Logan, never say no to free food."

"You're buying?"

She chuckled again. "Come with me."

I put up the Out to Lunch sign, and we went to a nearby field populated by the food trucks that I frequently visited. She took me to the falafel truck, insisting that I try their sandwich—for the love of God—and then we sat down at a nearby table to eat.

"You're right, this is incredible," I told her, taking a bite.

"Yes it is. Nico loves it here," she said, holding up the to-go bag she got for him.

"You guys ever go to Mike's? I grab a hot dog from there almost every other day." Mike's was a small little restaurant down the road, close to the beach, famous for their hot dogs and slushies.

Grace obviously didn't approve, making a grossed-out face. "Oh, that old place."

"You don't like it?"

"We're vegan, Logan."

"What? You are?"

"Dumb not to be."

I frowned, and changed the subject. "So, you work around here?"

She leaned back in her seat. "No, I haven't worked in years. I'm a full-time mama."

"Then your husband?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't upset her by bringing it up again.

"He's... gone," she sighed. "He passed, when Nico was seven," she said, her face expressionless.

"Shit. I'm sorry to hear that, Grace."

"That's life, kiddo. At least when your husband works with big cats."

"Oh jeez," I said, unable to help but picture the unfortunate scenario with vicious tigers. "That sounds violent."

"Nico's never really fully gotten over it; those two were inseparable. They had the same reckless, adventurous spirit. Always wanting to conquer the next thing, with the time in-between spent figuring out how exactly to do it. Best not to bring it up around him."

"I can't imagine what that must be like for him. Or you. At least you're a great mother to him, he clearly loves you a lot."

"I appreciate that, Logan. So, after all that happened, we took the lawsuit, took the life insurance, and moved here from the snow. All we can do is keep going."

I nodded. "Very inspirational."

"Indeed it is," she smiled. "So what about you? You couldn't have lived here all your life."

"Well, I did. Toy store's my mom's actually, she has me working over the summers to get some experience. I'm supposed to inherit it when she retires," I explained.

"The old family business," she said, nodding. "Is that what you want to do?"

"Eh, sort of. I dunno. I'm studying mechanical engineering, and I love it."

"Too bad you're an only child, could have shoveled it off to a sibling."

"I'm not actually."

"Really?"

"Got an older brother."

"Ah. So what, he didn't make the cut?"

I grimaced. "Something like that. It's complicated."

"Alright," she smirked. "Tell me another time, then."

We finished our lunch, and I thanked her and said goodbye as I returned to my post at the store, and she continued down to the beach to meet up with her son.

"You're really fine with this?" Grace asked me, frantically typing on her phone.

"Of course, Grace, he's always welcome to hang out here. What better place for a kid, right?"

"God, you are just the best." She came over to pat me on the shoulder, and looked down at her phone. "Okay great, I won't be more than two hours. Be good, kid!" she called to Nico as she trotted out the door. Nico was sitting across from me on a stool, busy reading his big book of magic tricks, but lifted his gaze and gave me a quick smile before returning to his reading.

I fanned myself with my spare hand, busying myself with my phone. When I looked up, I saw Nico staring at me from behind his book, and he quickly looked down. He did that a few more times before I finally called him out on it.

"What?" I shouted from across the room. "There something on my face?"

"You're sweaty," he said with a smile, then returned his focus to the book.

"Yeah, well, it's hot," I replied, intensifying my fanning. The ceiling fan had broken earlier in the day, and though I told my mom about it, she said she wasn't able to get anyone out to fix it until the following afternoon.

"But I'm not sweating."

"You spend all your time in the hot sun at the beach. I have to stay in here all day, and I'm used to having the fan going."

"If you're really hot, then you should take your shirt off. Everybody knows that."

I laughed, but his expression remained serious, and he looked back down at his book. The store was empty, and the few people that had come in earlier left quickly when they realized it was hotter than outside. I thought about how nice it would be to sneak down to the beach to cool off in the water.

Nico's book dropping to the floor snapped me out of my thoughts. "I'm so bored!" he moaned, getting up from the stool he was sitting on.

"Have a look around," I suggested. "We're in a toy store after all."

"Why can't I go down to the beach?"

"Because your mom said I should look after you."

"You don't have to look after me. I'm ten. Not five. I wanna go down to the beach!" He turned to look out the window.

"I know. Tell that to your mom though, not me. I'm just your friend."

He turned and smiled. "You're my friend?"

"Yeah, dude!"

He ran his hands over his face, seemingly delighted by his discovery. "Awesome," he whispered, and walked off to the other end of the store. A few moments later I heard him say, "Wow!" and I walked over to find him examining some of the skateboard decks mounted on the wall.

"Cool, yeah?" I said. It must have startled him, because he snapped his head towards me with a jolt.

"Um, yep! I like the one with the yellow sticks!" he said. I raised an eyebrow at his unusual description. He was pointing at a deck decorated with a close-up image of french fries and the caption, YUM.

"Is that your favorite one?" I grinned.

He looked over them again, placing a finger over his mouth in thought. "Mmm, no. I like the one with the pink starfish!"

I smiled at him. "Same," I said. "You don't know who it is?"

"Uh, no?"

"It's Patrick, from Spongebob," I told him.

"Oh. I don't really watch YouTube a lot," he said, kicking a slipper against the floor.

I frowned. "Hey, have you ever been skateboarding before?"

"Nope," he said, and went back to looking around.

"Wanna try it?"

He quickly turned to me. "Wait, really?" he asked. "Don't you have to work?"

I shrugged. "Meh. It's been slow today, as you can see," I said, motioning to the empty store. "I wouldn't mind getting outside for a little. At least there might be a breeze out there. And I'll just come back inside if anyone shows up."

He grinned and jumped in the air. "Woohoo!" I grinned back, then went into the back room to grab the old skateboard that Mom kept in the back of the store for whatever reason.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Nico asked me after falling on his ass for the second time, sending the skateboard hurdling across the road.

"Well, ideally you'd have pads on and stuff, but I don't have any of that here," I said, going to retrieve the skateboard.

More than anything, going outside was just an excuse to get out of the heat for a brief moment, and also get some relief from the refreshing ocean breeze. Since kids normally skated around on the street and sidewalks, I wasn't worried about disturbing the other shops on the block, and beach traffic was minimal during the week.

After having him go down the sidewalk in a straight line a couple times, I tried to show him how to turn. He had trouble, losing his balance a bunch, but pretty consistently being able to catch himself before hitting the ground. The one time he didn't, however, he landed directly on his knees. I sprinted over as he got up, and saw his right knee scraped up pretty badly with blood starting to pool up.

"Ahhhhhh!" he moaned, squeezing the skin on his leg, voice squeaking on the verge of tears.

"Shit," I said out loud. "You okay? Come on." I grabbed the skateboard, and took him by the wrist, leading him back to the store.

"It stings!" he whined. "Ow ow ow!"

"Sorry. I shouldn't have let you do that without gear. Shit, I'm stupid."

He said nothing, his face red and dejected as I pulled him through the store and into the small bathroom. I put the toilet seat down and had him sit on it, then pulled a couple paper towels out of the dispenser. Kneeling by him, I reached around his basketball shorts to hold the back of his leg as I dabbed at the blood with a balled-up paper towel. He was whimpering softly, so I gently rubbed his leg as I cleaned him up, which seemed to help quiet him down. The only sounds that came from him were occasional sniffles.

"How's it feel?" I asked him.

"Really good," he replied.

"The scrape?" I asked, confused.

"No, it hurts!"

"Oh, um, well, take your mind off it for a second. I'm going to try cleaning it with some water."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know, try focusing on... something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know." I ran some paper towels under the sink, then went back to crouching by him. "Why don't you tell me about another magic trick?"

"No! It's boring to hear about them. The only part that's fun is when you get to see the magic." He thought for a moment. "Can we play Truth or Dare?"

Truth or dare? That was a game I hadn't played since probably middle school. I didn't see the harm, and it would help get his mind off his wound.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he said boldly.

"Okay," I said, wetting a paper towel in the sink. "I dare you to... hold your breath." I pressed it against his knee, and he sucked in through his teeth. "It's okay?" I asked him.

"Yep," he squeaked, slamming his eyes shut. When I finished, he opened them. "That wasn't a real dare!" he complained, and I shrugged. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I replied, busy rummaging through the drawers for some antibiotics. 

"What's your favorite color?"

"Really? Is that so interesting?" I turned to find him grinning widely.

"I wanna know!"

"Alright," I sighed. "Red's pretty cool."

"I think so too," he smiled. "Now you go!"

"Okay, truth or dare?" I finally found the Neosporin, and brought it over to him.

"Dare!" he exclaimed.

"Alright, close your eyes." I held him by the leg again as I applied the Neosporin. Once I was done, he opened his eyes, frowning.

"That wasn't a real dare! Come on, you're not even playing!"

"Okay, we'll go do a real dare then. Follow me." I led him back into the store and picked up a toy basketball. "I dare you to stand here," I said, pointing at a spot on the ground, "and shoot this into the hoop over there," I said, pointing to the other side of the store.

He snatched the ball from me. "What if I don't make it?"

"I didn't say you had to make it, just shoot it."

"That's no fun!" he grumbled.

"Well, I'm not going to punish you for missing."

"What do I get if I make it then?"

I thought about it. "We'll do one more round of truth or dare."

"Kay." Intense focus washed over his face. He gripped the ball with both hands, and spread his skinny legs wide. With his tongue poking out of his mouth, he crouched down and then launched the ball with perfect form. It soared through the air, over the aisles of toys, directly to the hoop, smacking against the backboard and falling straight into the net.

"Damn!" I said, taken by surprise, and patted him on the back. "Look at you! Little pro over here!"

He raised his arms up in glory and ran laps around the store, while I watched with a smirk. When he finally came to a stop beside me, we just grinned at each other while he caught his breath.

"Truth or dare?" he asked.

"Truth," I replied, sitting down on a bench. He took a seat next to me, dangling his legs above the ground.

"Stop doing truth," he said, and kicked the toy basketball on the floor over to me.

"Oh, so you're one of those people who only wants to play the dares?" I said, kicking the basketball back to him.

He giggled and passed it back. "Fine, then how tall are you?"

"I guess I see why," I mumbled, noting that interesting questions clearly weren't his strong suit. "I'm five foot eleven."

"Wow," he said. "I wanna be that tall. Mom said I'll get really tall because it's in our genes." He grabbed my arm, and then held his soft hand against mine. "You have really big hands," he observed.

I pulled my hand away. "You think?" I said, pretending to be offended, inspecting them.

The door jingled as a middle-aged man came in. He coughed once, then headed down to the other end of the store.

"Alright, last one," I told him, getting up from the bench. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare! Duh."

I looked around, trying to come up with an idea as we both walked back over to the counter, and it hit me. "Dare you take care of that customer," I said with a smirk.

He gasped, and looked over to where the man was. "No way!"

"You have to. It's a dare," I reminded him. "Unless you wanted to do truth."

"What do I do?" he whispered. I led him behind the counter and explained that he should wait for the customer to come to pay, then scan the barcode and either put the money in the register or swipe his card on the machine. 

"Oh yeah, and ask if he found everything okay," I reminded him. "If there's a problem just come get me. Good luck!"

I walked into the back room, turning on the computer so I could watch from the security cameras, chuckling at my ingenuity. He took his position at the cash register. Even standing on his tippy-toes, he only barely came past the counter, and I watched him scratch the back of his leg using his other foot. Another camera showed the customer on the other side of the store, looking through the bargain bin, before making his way over to the counter.

"Hello," Nico said to the man as he approached.

"Oh, hi, um, are you—"

"Yep, give me that," Nico said, snatching the magic eight ball from his hands. "Did you find everything good?"

"Yeah," the man said timidly, scratching his head, the ten-year-old working the register seeming to short-circuit his brain.

Fortunately, he paid in cash, so it was only a matter of Nico finding the right button to push. The man watched as he scanned the register for the right button, which he finally did find after an awkward moment. He handed the toy back to the man.

"Okay, see ya!" Nico said, flashing a smile.

"That's a five," the man said, pointing at the register.

"Oh," Nico said, looking down at the man's outstretched hand. "Thank you so much!" he said earnestly, taking his hand and shaking it.

The man looked hopelessly confused, and sighed. "Whatever. Thank you," he said, and hurried out of the store while the receipt printed out of the register.

I pushed the door open, and Nico turned around with a confident grin. We burst out laughing.

"That was great!" I told him. "Maybe we should hire you full time."

"That's okay. It's really boring," he said, and we shared another laugh. "So, truth or dare?"

"More?" I said, and he pouted his lips. "Okay, last one then." He raised an expectant eyebrow. "Dare."

"Yesss, finally! Jeez," he moaned. "Kay, I dare you to let me lick you."

"Lick me?"

He smiled, letting his tongue fall out of his mouth. "La... on la larm!" He put both hands forward and approached me slowly. 

I began backing up. "Oh, yuck!" I said, feigning playful disgust and holding up my hands.

He cornered me against the wall, giggling. I held him away by his shoulders as he pinned me, laughing as he waved his face and tongue at me in a threatening manner. We were both cracking up as he continued his assault, and I defended myself until someone came in the store, ringing the door's little bell. 

He stopped immediately, blushing and crawling off of me as I stood up. It was Grace, and she nodded when she spotted me.

"Hey guys," she said, looking through her purse.

"Hi mama!" he said, making his way out from behind the counter.

"Ready to go?"

He looked down and kicked at the floor with his slippers. "Um, nope. Not yet." He looked over at me. "Can I stay with Logan?" I just smiled back.

She chuckled. "No, honey, come on, we gotta go. We'll come back next week, alright?"

He reluctantly shuffled over to her, and she pushed him away towards the door.

"Thanks," she said, looking back at me. "Sorry."

"No problem. Don't be!" I smiled.

Nico looked back as she marched him out, and smiled when our eyes met, making more absurd licking motions with his tongue as I waved to him.

"I hope you don't mind that we've adopted your store as our new hangout spot," Grace said as she dumped the contents of a large paper bag onto the desk in the back room.

"Fine with me, but what is all that?" I asked, standing in the doorway.

"Our haul!" Nico exclaimed, hovering over the pile and sticking his lollipop back in his mouth. I raised an eyebrow at Grace.

"Thrift shop," she explained. "We've made it a weekly thing."

"And it's the biggest one yet!" Nico said excitedly, digging through the pile of clothes and random knick knacks.

I went over to look with them. Four pairs of Nico-sized pants, Minecraft-themed toy cars (why would such a thing exist?), a bluetooth speaker, several mesh tea infusers, and all kinds of other crap in a similar vein. The two looked at each other with wide grins as Grace pulled out a selfie stick from the heap. I envied their amazing relationship, realizing I had never had a relationship with my parents quite like the one Nico and Grace seemed to possess.

"Come on, Logan," Grace said. She had set her phone up on the stick, and was holding it out. "Get in here." I squeezed in between them, and she took a photo. After reviewing it, she shook her head. "The light is terrible in here. Let's get some sunlight."

She led us out to the entrance of the store, and took more pictures, even having us do a round of funny faces. At some point, Nico slid his arm around my waist, and hugged my side. They headed to the beach after that, leaving me to myself at the store, where I was kept busy with customers for the afternoon.

Several hours later, Nico showed back up by himself, his tawny hair exhibiting that wet-but-now-dried look.

"Hi," he said, standing by the door.

"Hey, Nico!" I greeted. "I hate to say it, but you need a shirt and shoes to be in here."

He tugged at the hem of his damp swim shorts. "It's kay. I just wanna ask you real quick... wanna come down to the beach with us?"

I chuckled at the endearing offer. "I'm still working right now, but if you guys are still there in—" I checked my phone, "—an hour, I'll come find you."

A smile spread across his face. "Awesome! See ya!" he said, and charged out the door, back down toward the beach.

An hour later, I closed up and moved my car down to the parking spots closer to the beach. I left my shirt behind and headed down to the water where sure enough, I found the two with their little setup of umbrellas and chairs. I snuck up behind them and shook Nico's beach chair, causing him to scream, which made Grace scream too. When they both turned and saw me, we all roared with laughter. I settled in with them, taking off my shirt so I could enjoy the sun properly.

"Can I get another picture?" Grace asked, taking out her phone.

I nodded, and moved in front of her as she reclined in her beach chair. Nico came over and stood in front of me, and I wrapped my arms across his neck. With two big smiles, the photo was snapped. Nico sat back down in his chair, and I took a seat next to him in the sand. Grace offered for me to take his chair, but Nico complained, wanting instead to sit in my lap. After making sure it was fine with me, I took his spot and he climbed onto me, roosting his thinly-clad bottom on my lap.

I found myself in a predicament when his constant wriggling and shifting in my lap started to give me an unintentional erection, and tried to readjust my position so he wouldn't feel it. Even though he didn't seem to notice, it got uncomfortable enough for me to stand up and excuse myself to the water, but Nico wanted to tag along.

"Mama, can we take the boogie boards down?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course," she said, sliding the two boards across the sand to him. We thanked her and brought the boards down to the water, paddling slowly out through the crashing waves. When Nico splashed me with one hand, I splashed back, creating a short-lived water war between us, until a big wave came that we both caught and rode all the way to the shore.

The water made his long blonde hair look even longer, and his tan skin glossy to the point of incandescence. We boarded around for a while, with him occasionally jumping off and playfully wrestling me, letting loose joyful shrieks that I couldn't help but become addicted to. When my energy was finally depleted, I rode one last wave to shore where I climbed out of the water and dramatically collapsed into the sand, eliciting uproarious laughter from him as he joined me in.

That was when he told me that day was the best day of his life, and offered me a beautiful little shell as a gift. We spent another hour or so at the beach, playing both in the water and the sand, before Grace told him he had to go. He was devastated, but I cheered him up a little by spending some time helping him and his mom bring their stuff up to their car. We said our goodbyes, but that wasn't enough for him as he rolled down the window as they were driving away to offer another one.

The two came by the store fairly frequently, but after getting home from work the following Friday, my mom surprised me with an envelope containing an airplane ticket back to college—her thanks for handling the store over the summer. I was pleased to not have to buy the ticket myself. I took the flight home that Sunday, and even though it was wonderful spending the summer by the beach, I was happy to get back to my dorm room, which felt more like a true home to me with the amount of freedom there.

Lying in my bed, my mind wandered to Grace and Nico, who I knew were still living it up at the beach. I'd miss them, and regretted not getting Grace's phone number. After that, I put them out of my mind, with my focus returning to class and the busy social life of college.

The following summer, my roommate and two other friends invited me to spend two months in Australia, and I happily accepted their offer, thrilled to go on such an adventure. We traveled all around Australia exploring just about everything there was to see and do. On the day we had to leave, my roommate and I actually cried at the tragedy of having to return to our normal lives.

After that, it was another year of school before I returned to my hometown. Mom was happy to see me, and even happier to have me take over the store again. I was happy to be back there as well, as I was saving for my own car for when I finished up college, and the money would be a huge head start.

The first day I set foot back in the store, I found a small nautilus shell sitting on the counter beside the cash register, and was suddenly jolted with the memory of Nico's gift and that precious summer. I picked it up, admiring its slightness and natural beauty. It had been a long time since I'd thought about Nico and Grace, but the small shell brought all the memories flooding back. I wondered if they were still around, but after two months of working in the store, they never showed back up. I considered that they might have moved away, though more reasonably, Nico had probably just grown too old to be visiting a toy store. 

It was early August, and I was putting our new shipment of toys on the shelves when a group of several kids came into the store. I hurried back to the counter, setting the box in the back room, when I spotted a boy that looked incredibly similar to Nico among the group of preteens.

Upon closer inspection, I could confirm it was definitely him. He was taller than I remembered, and his skin just a bit lighter, too, but his medium-length, dirty blonde was the same as ever, bangs falling barely past his eyebrows. While the other kids were wearing bright colored t-shirts and shorts, Nico had on a baggy dark gray hoodie with swim shorts underneath. An odd choice, I thought, considering the warm weather.

The crowd of kids jumbled around the store, and he was left standing by the door, finally catching sight of me. He stared open-mouthed for a moment, and I gave him a smile and a small wave. He didn't wave back, instead lowering his gaze and slinking off to join the other kids, which consisted of four boys and two girls, who were around Nico's age, and rather noisy. After an incident earlier in the summer where two teenagers stole some video games, I made sure to keep an eye on them; getting the police involved was something I preferred to avoid. When I noticed that all but one of the kids were wearing any footwear, I decided to use that to kick them out.

"Hey, guys," I called out to a flurry of immediate stares. "You can't be in here without shoes."

"Okay, sorry!" one of them replied, but the others gave me dirty looks as they left the store.

Nico followed them out the door, but stopped and put a hand on the frame. I was sure he was about to say something, but he instead looked down and walked off. I hoped he recognized me and let Grace know; maybe I'd see her again. I put the encounter out of my mind, and went back to stocking the shelves.

The next day, I awoke to my mom shouting in the doorway. I slept through my alarm, and she was pissed. Dragging myself to the bathroom, I quickly went through my morning routine of peeing, washing my face, shaving, brushing my teeth, and styling my hair. I was particular about my short brown hair, preferring a comb over fade style, which did require a fair amount of maintenance in the morning. Having woken up late, I had no time for my usual quick morning exercise, so I quickly threw on a t-shirt and shorts, and hopped in my mom's car.

The day went by so slowly that I gave a little cheer when the clock hit twelve. Mom made me a sandwich for lunch, and I was nibbling on it alone inside the empty store when I heard the door open. Sitting up, I watched as a surprise influx of several families came into the store at the same time. I looked for Grace in the faces, but didn't see her, however after the large crowd entered, there was Nico at the door.

He stepped inside, looking like he was dressed for cold weather in the same gray hoodie from the previous day, and brown khaki pants. An odd decision, I thought given the typical heat. He took a few looks around before spotting me. I gave him the same wave and smile as the last time, expecting him to maybe come say hello this time. While he did flash a half-smile, he quickly slipped away and out of sight. I figured if he wasn't going to come by the counter, I'd go to him.

I had a few customers to take care of, then slipped away and walked past the aisles, searching for him. I finally spotted him faced away from me, staring blankly at the toy trains on the shelf, hands fidgeting in the pocket of his baggy sweatshirt.

"Nico!" I exclaimed, startling him as he flinched and turned to me.

With a nervous smile producing his familiar dimples, he replied simply, "Hi."

"What's up?" I asked, going over to him. "How ya been?"

"Good," he replied, looking down at the floor. His voice was still that of a little kid, completely untouched by puberty.

"Oh, good. It's been a while," I said, and he nodded. "You got tall!"

"Yeah."

"How's your mom been?"

"She's good."

"Where's she at?"

"Work."

I folded my arms. Had he forgotten about me, or was he just being shy? Whatever was going on, it was clear he wasn't interested in talking to me, so I decided I should let him be.

"Cool, cool. Well, it was good to see you again. Tell your mom to come by," I suggested and walked away. He nodded, but stayed frozen on the spot. It hurt to think he had maybe forgotten about the fun times we shared. Or possibly something had happened to him? I looked back and saw him continuing staring at the floor and sighed.

As I checked out a few more customers, I caught him occasionally stealing glances at me from behind the shelves, but he would quickly look away whenever I looked his way. Confused, I decided to try talking to him again after I had finished checking out the other customers in the store, but as soon as everyone else had paid and left, he peeped his head and stepped out from behind the shelves. He approached the counter hesitantly, as if it were difficult, and it made me sad that he seemed so uncomfortable around me.

"Hey," I said, waving him over. "C'mon, I won't bite. You still remember me?"

"Yep," he said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Good! I thought maybe you forgot about me," I said with a chuckle. He didn't laugh, or even smile. It was too bizarre, and I wanted to know what was going on with him. "So what's up? It's really freaking me out how quiet you are! You used to be such a chatterbox."

"Can I ask you something?" he said, without making eye contact.

"Yeah, of course. What's up?" I replied, kneeling a little to get closer to his level.

Silence followed, and he gritted his teeth. "Nevermind."

"Nico," I said sternly. "What's up?"

He chewed his lip for a moment before replying. "I think I hurt myself."

"What?"

"I think I hurt my leg."

"What, just now?"

"No, um, outside, a little bit ago. I was skateboarding."

"Oh. Are you okay? Do you need me to help?"

"Kinda."

"What do you mean 'kinda'?" I frowned. "Here, follow me," I said, scooting out from the counter and heading to the bathroom. "Is it a scrape? A bruise?"

He waited outside the bathroom as I searched for the first aid kit that was normally located under the sink. "It's like, a cut," he explained. The kit wasn't in the bathroom, so I had him follow me into the back room where I continued looking for it. I flipped on the dim overhead light that flickered twice, trying its hardest to light the little room that smelled like dust and wood.

"Hmm, just a sec," I said, rifling through desk drawers and cabinets. He stood by the door with his hands still in his sweater, staring at the ground with his blonde hair hanging angelically over his eyes.

I finally found the first aid kit in a cabinet, and came back over to him, bringing the office chair from the desk for him to sit in. He sat, and I knelt in front of him, placing the kit on the floor.

"Which leg?" I asked.

"Um," he said, nervously kicking his feet back and forth. "It's kinda not really my leg." I squinted at him, hoping it would push him to elaborate, and he did. "It's here," he whispered, patting his left thigh and wincing.

"Oh," I said, realizing his predicament, and reached into the small box. "Well, here, then." I held out a bandage and an antiseptic wipe, but he just stared at them.

"Do you think... you could... maybe... do it?"

"Ehm, yeah... if you want," I replied, confused at how he didn't know how to clean a wound at his age, and set the supplies on the floor. "But... you're wearing pants."

"It really hurts," he said through misty eyes. As an old friend, I felt a duty to help.

"Alright," I sighed. "Stand up." He quickly got up from the chair. I looked back through the door to the store before tugging his sweater up. An odd yellow leather belt held the loose pants to his skinny body, and I told him I liked it.

"Thanks!" he beamed. "I got it for my birthday this year."

"Oh, that's a nice present. When was that?" I said, working the belt off.

"March. I'm twelve now," he said, subtly puffing out his chest.

"That's cool, dude." I set his belt on the table, and lowered his pants just a little, finding a pair of purple plaid boxers. Below that, a small, dried gash on his otherwise completely smooth and pale thigh. He gulped and clenched his fists.

"That is... wow, how did that happen?" I asked, inspecting the wound.

"I fell," he said.

"Did you fall on something? Like a nail? How did you get cut?" He didn't answer me. I placed my hand on his thigh, just beside the wound, and he sucked in through his teeth.

With my other hand, I took the wipe and started cleaning the mostly dried cut, holding the back of his skinny thigh for support. He winced, and his lower body shuddered in my grip.

"Um, do you work here every day?" he asked.

"Just over the summer," I replied. "Then I go back to school."

"You go to school?"

"Well, college, yeah."

"Oh," he said, and fidgeted with his hands. "You weren't here last summer."

"Yeah, I went to Australia over the summer. It was so cool!"

"Really? That's the place with the kangaroos," he said in amazement.

I told him a few stories from the trip, like snorkeling in coral reefs, and our volunteer work cleaning beaches and helping animals. He sat, enthralled, listening with his lips slightly parted. I turned around and grabbed the bandages I had set on the floor behind me, but when I turned back I was face to face with a pronounced bulge at the front of his underwear.

My chest tightened, and I was caught between wanting to laugh it off and completely ignore it, ultimately deciding on the latter. Avoiding eye contact with Nico, I put the bandage on over his wound and swallowed. I tried to make it seem like I didn't notice; I didn't want him to feel embarrassed, but what he did next surprised the hell out of me. As I pulled my hand away, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around my head, hugging me into his chest. Incredibly confused and concerned, I reached around and hugged him back, feeling his gentle heartbeat against my cheek.

"Are you okay, Nico? Is something going on at home?" I asked.

"No," he whispered, sniffling.

"What is it, then?" I asked, breaking off our hug to make direct eye contact. He was shaking, and I was worried he was going to cry. "Hey, I'm still your friend, alright? You can talk to me."

"I—" he started, then looked away. Turning back, he threw himself into me for another hug. Really confused and starting to get mildly annoyed, I pulled him off of me by his shoulders.

"Nico," I said sternly, looking directly at him.

He looked down. The bulge in his pants flexed, shifting the purple material, and he tilted his head up at me.

"Please," he whispered with burning red cheeks, and took my hand. I froze up, letting him drag it to his boxers and push my hand against his crotch. It was hard.

I was stunned, taking in the gravity of what he was asking me. He wanted me to touch him? Why would he want that? A twelve-year-old was too young for that kind of stuff. When I was his age, I had a nearly nonexistent interest in sex. He pushed his hips forward, pressing his groin into my palm, but my body wouldn't respond, wouldn't let me pull away.

Underneath his boxers, something stiff ground against my hand, and I knew what it wanted. I never would have imagined innocent little Nico had these kinds of needs. My mind was overrun with thoughts as he began grinding himself against my hand rhythmically, breathing in and out; I didn't know what the hell to do.

I need to be an adult, I thought, I need to stop this right now. I looked up to see his face scrunched up, half-closed eyes hazy with desire, intensifying with each muted thrust. This was what he wanted. Would letting him have it irreparably damage our friendship, or would not letting him have it do that? What did I want? It seemed like it would make him happy. This was a situation I'd never even thought about before, something I've never dreamed of. 

After a long moment of consideration, I decided to give him what he wanted. Once my inhibitions were gone, a great curiosity took over me. What did his dick look like? I've never seen another boy's penis before, only ever my own when I was young. Was he old enough to have pubes? I squeezed my palm, wrapping my hand around his penis through the material of his boxers. It was warm—a rigid bar under a thin cloth. He whimpered into my shirt, and I could feel his shaky, steamy breath through it. Releasing my grip, I slid my hand downward, brushing against his balls—two small orbs that jostled under my touch.

I let go of his boxers and put both hands on his sides to pull us apart. I looked at him, and he stared back, his face a bright shade of red barely illuminated by the light above us. His eyes were half-closed, and a few strands of blonde hair were matted against his damp forehead. A familiar smile streaked across his face, punctuated with little dimples that bolstered his youthful appearance. It was the first real smile I had seen from him that day.

Then, he surprised me with a kiss, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. We looked at each other, then he came in for another one. My eyes widened as his closed, and then the soft feeling of his delicate, cushy twelve-year-old lips against mine took over my senses. He pushed into me, grasping my shoulders with his hands, and I was surprised to feel the inquisitive flitting of his tongue against my mouth. Parting my lips, he pushed inside, kissing me with the expertise of someone twice his age.

Tiny whimpers escaped him as we kissed, serving me only more confusing feelings. They were dirty, sexual whimpers, those you could expect from a woman, but packaged in a higher, soprano pitch that somehow still managed to turn me on. He pulled away from me, and shucked his pants the rest of the way down his scrawny, hairless legs, and they fell around his ankles.

"Please," he said, eyebrows braided by his desperate need. "I really want to do this with you." Again, the sounds felt wrong coming from the sweet, innocent boy. He took my hand again and placed it on his jutting bulge. "I need it!" Not a suggestion, but a command, one driven by the need every boy is familiar with.

I sighed, "Okay," and he responded with a mischievous grin. Sliding my hand past his boxers, I put it on the back of his thigh, and with my other hand on his back, carefully lowered him onto the floor. He was so incredibly light, being such a small and skinny kid, and lay still like a doll. In his new position, the bulge in his thin boxers pushed upward obscenely, clearly frustrated with the confines it found itself in. It was time to take the next, irreversible step. I knelt down between his legs and our eyes met.

"This okay?" I asked, my hands hovering above him. He nodded, reassuring me with an antsy smile. My fingers dug into the waistband of his boxers, making first contact with the squishy skin of his lower belly. He pushed his hips out, forcing the underwear to slide down half an inch.

This was it. After a brief hesitation, I hooked my fingers and pulled. His penis sprang out, and my eyes widened as I laid eyes on the stiff, lightly curved pole that jutted approximately four inches into the air, with foreskin that covered the head stopping barely short of the tip, which was a shade darker and pinker. My eyes traveled down, finding his grape-sized balls concealed in a floppy pouch of skin. Weakly lit by the dim light above us, I could only barely make out that the skin of his thighs were a lighter, creamier tone than the rest of his tanned body. There wasn't a hair, vein, or blemish anywhere in sight. I had never seen anything like his body before, and my eyes silently ravaged him, exploring his nakedness for the first time.

He carefully reached out and took my hand, placing it on his shaft as my fingers instinctively wrapped around it—hard as a rock, but smooth like porcelain, and much warmer than I expected. I could feel his steady heartbeat pulsing through it. Enveloping my hand in his, he tugged it down and thrust his hips in response. I stroked him once on my own, and he took his hand away while leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes closed. He lifted his arms, placing his hands under his head, silently nudging me to do whatever I wanted.

Intriguingly, a bead of liquid had formed over the slit of his penis. Could a boy his age really produce precum? I wondered, sliding my thumb against it and confirming that it really was the gooey substance I thought it might be. He groaned loudly, and I shushed him but continued to rub the sticky substance around his tip, then dipped the tip of my thumb into the rim of his foreskin, coating the inside with wetness as I rubbed it around in a circle. His hands balled into little fists, and a loud puff of air escaped from his tightly locked lips.

I removed my thumb and stroked his dick, watching how the supple foreskin stretched around the engorged head with every stroke. He humped into my hand, and I responded by picking up my speed, causing him to gasp.

"One sec," he interrupted, and I let go of his throbbing penis. Propping himself up on his elbows, he lifted up his hoodie from the bottom, and a skinny, lightly toned chest slowly revealed itself to me, with traces of a six-pack scarcely visible. The hoodie caught around his neck, and he struggled with it while I chuckled to myself, before helping him pull the hoodie off and tossing it elsewhere.

The sound of metal hitting the floor barely registered in my brain as I drank in the sight of his body. He lay on the floor, naked except for his shoes and the pants that were tugged most of the way down his legs. I had never seen another naked boy before, and was alarmingly surprised that my body found it arousing, at least judging by the erection that stirred to life within my shorts. It was confusing, only ever being aroused by girls up to that point in my life, and now my body was somehow finding this preteen boy attractive?

He put his hands behind his head and flexed his boner, intimately beckoning to me, and I crawled up his body to his face, submitting to my newfound lust. I placed a single kiss on his lips, resting a hand on his bare chest, and he happily kissed back. A single, happy tear slipped down his glowing face, past his precious smile. I slipped down to observe him again, feasting my hungry eyes all over his skinny, tanned chest, taking in the two small nipples, and the outline of his rib cage.

Continuing down his body, I found his tiny belly button, and the cutoff point where his beautiful bronzed skin turned milky and naturally white. Not far below was his erection, uninhibited and throbbing with eager determination. I took it in my hand, once again feeling its slender curvature and ardent heat between my fingers. His body responded, lighting up like I'd touched a live wire to his skin. With rapid breaths, he drew in his knees, eyelids flickering from the intense stimulation.

"Urgh," he groaned. "That's sooo good! Don't stop!"

I resumed stroking him, and used my free hand to rub other parts of his body to see if I could amplify his pleasure, now that he'd granted me full control over him. First his delicate ribs, making him shiver, then his soft thighs, causing his hips to push forward. I brushed my fingers over his belly, and up to his head, running them through his silky blonde hair as he whimpered. Bringing my hand down to his butt, I cupped one of his buttcheeks and lifted him off the ground a little, continuing to jerk him off with my other hand, now with increased vigor.

The tip of his penis shimmered, and upon closer inspection, some precum had leaked out and was being rubbed all around the head with every stroke; its effect immediately noticeable. The muscles of his abs twitched, and his limbs jerked randomly. Small whimpers and squeals flowed out of his mouth like the precum from his slit, but as aroused as he was making me feel, making him feel good was my only goal. It was only when he let out a high-pitched moan that I looked back towards the door, remembering our location in the public toy store, desperately hoping that nobody had come in.

"Ohhh!" he squeaked, and I felt his penis flex. "I'm—it's happening!" he cried. His hand shot to my stroking arm, grabbing on tightly as I continued pumping away on his dick that felt impossibly hard. I moved my hand that was on his butt to his bouncing nutsack, massaging them as he moaned freely, and I felt them suddenly tighten. "Ahhhhhh!"

He lifted his hips and twisted his face in pleasure, slamming his eyes closed and biting his lip. I held on as his penis swelled and spurted out a sizable gush of clear liquid that landed on his chest. His cheeks were crimson, and with another long moan, his penis twitched and squirted out another watery shot. I'd slowed my stroking, pulling down on his shaft and causing his foreskin to roll down as far as it would go, watching him writhe under my grasp as yet another, lighter jet spurted into the already impressive translucent lakes and rivers that decorated his rippling chest. With two more heavy breaths and small drips onto his tummy, he appeared to have finished, and collapsed down onto the floor.

I let go of his softening boner that trembled wearily in the air before wilting and dropping into a small pool of cum that flowed into his little innie belly button. He opened his eyes and gave me a weak smile, then dropped his head and was out like a light, completely spent. I stood up, looking down at the sleeping preteen who was breathing softly, splattered with copious amounts of his own semen. A smile lingered on his face, peaceful and innocent. But only a little innocent. I couldn't believe what had just happened, holding up my hand to examine the clear, wet trickle, and wondering how a kid that small could shoot out that much cum. 

My dick was almost painfully hard, but I had no interest in taking care of it. I paced around the small room, mind running a million miles a minute, wondering how I allowed such a thing to happen. Would he regret it, resulting in a group of police officers knocking on my door in a matter of days? How he could so easily tell someone, like his mom, or a friend, and my life would be over. I didn't want to imagine how things would look if Grace got involved. A feeling of shame swept over me for allowing myself to become involved with such things. I looked over at him, still sleeping, and knew I had to make sure this could never get out.

"Hey, Nico," I whispered, and gently shook him awake by his shoulder. 

"Oh, hey." He blinked a few times, and sat up, looking down to find drops of cum sliding down his chest. "Oh, wow!" He looked up at me. "That was awesome! I never shoot that much!" he exclaimed, poking at the semen that drizzled down his naked torso. His enthusiasm was relieving, and I began to feel a lot less anxious.

"Yeah, you even passed out after," I said, standing up and going to retrieve his hoodie on the other side of the room.

"I know," he smiled, and pushed his hips out to pull up his boxers. I tossed him his sweatshirt, and he started pulling it over his head.

"Hold on," I said, and he froze.

"Huh?" I went over to him and plucked it off of him, and flashed the bandage. "Oh, right," he muttered, and we laughed. I used one of the wipes to clean up his chest, and then he got up and sat in the chair.

"I've never done that with anyone before," I said, placing the bandage on his wound. He giggled.

"So, uh, Logan, do you... um, do you like me?" he asked. I looked up at him, astounded that he would think otherwise. He avoided my eyes, turning his head away.

"Yeah, of course I like you. I think you're awesome. You're one of the coolest kids I've ever known." He broke out into one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen. "But uh, I gotta ask. What the hell was that all about?" His smile disappeared as quickly as it came. 

"You'll think it's stupid," he said, and looked down at the floor.

I shook my head. "I'm not gonna think it's stupid, whatever it is."

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

He sighed. "So, like, I think I really like you. When you left, that summer, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was going crazy kinda, and I thought you'd come back but you never did. Mom would always take me to the store, but you were never there. I mean, until yesterday. When I saw you, my heart literally stopped! I wanted to say something, but I was like, scared, for some reason. Like, maybe you wouldn't remember me, or if you did, I'd see that you never really liked me! I mean, I was so annoying back then." He looked away, ashamed. I just nodded, taking it all in.

"Well, you made me feel like you didn't remember me! Alright, so you wanted me to jerk you off, because you thought I forgot about you?" He grinned back after he noticed me grinning at him.

"Well, not exactly. I never felt like this before. I felt so lost and helpless for the last two years. I thought about you, a lot, almost every night when I would go to sleep!" he admitted, blushing. "I sorta wished you could sleep with me, in my bed. And even though I have friends here now, I never had as much fun with them as I had with you. I really missed seeing you every week. When I turned eleven, I told my mom I didn't want to come here anymore, because it hurt so bad," he said, tears forming in his eyes. I reached over and patted his bare shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, dude. I didn't know it was like that. I never had a chance to say goodbye, and I forgot to get your mom's number."

He stood up from the chair. "And I still don't know! Don't know what any of this means. When I see you my heart beats really fast, it's kinda freaky!" He turned to me. "Do you know what it means?"

I smiled at him. "I think you'll have to take some time to figure it out on your own. Honestly, I'm a little lost myself."

"I'll try," he said confidently, tightening his fist.

"So, wanna finish getting dressed?" I asked him, handing him his hoodie again. "And where the fuck's your shirt?"

He giggled at my swear. "Don't have one."

Once he was finished getting dressed, I started leading us out of the room when I noticed a small red object on the floor. "Is that..." He saw it too, and darted to pick it up, stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. I grabbed his wrist, and he yelped as I extracted the object from the pocket, and held it up to examine it. "A pocket knife," I said flatly. He looked down at his shoes, blonde surfer hair falling sheepishly over his eyes.

"I always carry it around! It's really useful, 'cause—"

"Did you use this to cut yourself?"

"No way," he protested, then noticed my concerned expression. "Okay, yes, maybe. But I was only trading a little pain for a lot of pleasure!"

I rolled my eyes and handed the knife back to him, and ushered him out of the room, turning off the light behind us. The store was still empty, and I led him over to the magic section and grabbed one of the kits off the shelf.

"On the house!" I said, holding it out to him, but he pushed my hand away.

"Don't need it," he said, not even stopping on the way to the door. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he turned his head. "I've got the best toy ever right here!" he explained, grabbing his crotch through his pants, smirking.

"Kids," I muttered, shaking my head, and followed him out the door.

"Thanks, though. It's the thought that counts," he swooned.

Outside, the warm sun felt incredible on my skin. We stood together at the entrance, both of us reluctant to part.

"So, um, don't tell your mom?" I suggested meekly, even though I was fairly confident he wouldn't.

"Can I come back?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll be working here the rest of the summer."

He smiled. "Yay! I'll see ya, then!" He threw himself around me into a tight hug. Taken by surprise, I slowly wrapped my arms around him. "Thank you," he whispered into my shirt. After what felt like a full minute, he let go and began skipping off, humming to himself. "Bye Logan!" he called, voice echoing through the street. I waved, and he waved back, radiating absolute joy.

"See ya," I said, watching him skip down the street into the evening sun, leaving me alone to ruminate on the exciting yet terrifying events that had just taken place that would change the entire course of my life.