Shadows of Summer

Chapter One: Strawberry Sparks

The kitchen glowed with late afternoon light, golden rays spilling through the open window as Mara chopped strawberries for a pie. Her hands moved with quiet precision, the knife slicing through the fruit's tender flesh, juice staining her fingertips. At 38, Mara was a single mother, her life a steady rhythm of raising her daughter, Lily, and running a part-time bookkeeping business from their modest coastal home--a two-story with peeling white paint and a wildflower garden she tended in summer. Eight years ago, Lily's father had left for a job in Seattle and never returned, leaving Mara to build a sanctuary from careful savings. She wasn't lonely, not exactly, but a restlessness simmered beneath her calm routine.

Her reflection flickered in the glass: auburn hair falling in loose waves past her shoulders. Her fair skin, freckled from gardening, bore fine lines at the corners of her hazel eyes--eyes that sometimes sparked with something wild. Her figure was slender and petite, yet soft and strong, with gentle curves from years of yoga and chasing a toddler turned teenager, draped now in a bright floral sundress that hugged her hips and brushed mid-thigh, revealing toned legs from beach walks.

The back door creaked, and she glanced up. It was Theo, Lily's friend, all lanky limbs and sun-kissed skin, his dark hair a mess of curls over his forehead. At 18, a senior at Lily's high school, he carried a quiet steadiness that set him apart from his rowdy peers. Raised by his grandmother two streets over since his parents split when he was six, he'd grown into his 6'1" frame--broad shoulders and lean muscle sculpted by football and summer jobs mowing lawns and fixing boats. His green eyes, flecked with mischief, met hers as he stepped inside, his strong hands clutching the edge of his jacket.

"Hey, Mrs. C," he said, his voice deeper than she remembered. "Lily said I could grab my jacket--I left it here last night."

Mara smiled, brushing hair from her face. "Of course, Theo. It's on the couch. Want some lemonade? It's fresh." He'd been a constant in their home since middle school--PB&Js, scraped knees, terrible jokes--but today, his presence felt heavier.

He nodded, stepping closer, and she poured a glass, ice clinking. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, a jolt sparking through her--one she dismissed. He was just a kid, she thought, even if his gaze lingered too long. "Thanks," he said, leaning against the counter, his eyes tracing her slender frame with a flicker of appreciation. "Smells good in here. You baking again?"

"Strawberry pie," she replied, gesturing to the bowl. "Lily's favorite. Want to try some?" He grinned, boyish and bright, reaching for a berry. Their hands met again, his thumb grazing her wrist, and the air thickened. Her breath caught--was it an accident?

"You've got juice on you," he said, his voice dropping, eyes on her stained fingers. Before she could respond, he lifted her hand, his lips brushing her fingertip, tasting the sweetness. It was playful, almost innocent, but the heat in his gaze wasn't.

"Theo..." Her voice trembled, a warning and a question. She should've pulled back, but her body leaned in, drawn to his warmth. He straightened, closing the distance, the lemonade forgotten. "I've watched you all summer," he confessed, soft but bold. "The way you move, the way you laugh... I can't stop thinking about it."

**Her cheeks flushed, guilt and thrill twisting inside her. She'd noticed him too--just weeks ago, at a casual outing with Lily and friends at the local beach, his shirt clinging to his frame after a swim, the intensity in his eyes catching her off guard. It was wrong, but the thought fueled an ache low in her belly.** His breath ghosted her lips as her hand found his chest, meaning to push him away but lingering instead, feeling his racing heart. Then he kissed her--tentative, then deep when she didn't resist. She tasted strawberries and summer, her fingers curling into his shirt as restraint unraveled.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her against him, and she gasped, the counter pressing into her back. He lifted her slightly, her legs parting, their bodies fitting together. Her mind screamed to stop, but her hands roamed his shoulders, urging him on.

A car door slammed outside. Lily's laughter cut through, sharp and oblivious. Mara pulled back, breathless, smoothing her hair as Theo's eyes burned with promise. "Later," he whispered, grabbing his jacket and slipping out just as Lily burst in.

Lily dropped her tote bag on the table, ponytail swinging. "Mom, you won't believe what happened at the lake!" Mara forced a smile, wiping her hands on a towel, the strawberry juice a secret on her skin. "Sure, sweetie," she said, turning to the sink to hide her flush. Her pulse still raced, Theo's whisper echoing--*later*.

The house settled into its evening hum as Lily bounded upstairs. Mara gripped the counter, replaying the moment--his lips, the heat of him. Her skin prickled, a flush spreading down her chest. She should've stopped him, but the ache he'd stirred wouldn't fade.

A shadow moved outside. Theo hadn't left. He stood by the oak tree, hands in his pockets, watching her through the glass. Their eyes locked, his gaze stripping away the years between them. He tilted his head, a silent question. She stepped to the door, opening it just enough to feel the humid air. "Theo," she whispered, her voice torn between warning and want.

"I meant it," he said, stepping closer, his scent--salt and cedar--flooding her senses. "I can't stop thinking about you." His hand hovered near her arm, the space crackling. Her resolve wavered, her body leaning toward him.

Lily's footsteps creaked upstairs. "You should go," Mara said, stepping back, though her eyes lingered on his lips. He nodded, a slow burn in his expression, then slipped into the dusk. She closed the door, hand on her racing heart, the unfinished pie a witness to their stolen moment.