Chasing August

The August humidity clung to everything — my shirt, my skateboard, my dignity. Running from Tyler's house after that text, my lungs burned like I'd swallowed fire. She'd posted a photo of them together. My best friend and my crush. Classic.

I found myself at the old quarry where locals went swimming when the community pool felt like a social minefield. Throwing my phone onto a rock, I waded into the water, fully clothed, letting the shock numb everything. That's when I heard it — the distinctive snort that made every muscle seize.

A massive bull stood at the quarry's edge, horns like curved knives. Some idiot's idea of landscaping gone wrong. The animal stared at me with eyes like judgmental marbles. I froze. Tyler always called me "bull-headed" when I refused to back down from arguments. Irony now felt like a physical weight.

Then: splashing. A golden retriever bounded into the quarry, chasing a tennis ball like gravity was merely a suggestion. The bull barely glanced. The dog swam straight to me, ball in mouth, tail creating a wake like a tiny motorboat.

"Buster!" A girl waded in after him — Riley, from my history class. I'd barely spoken to her all semester. She grabbed her dog's collar, breathing hard. "Sorry, he has zero survival instincts."

The bull snorted again, closer now. Riley's eyes went wide. "Okay, new plan. We run."

We scrambled up the rocky bank, laughing hysterically once we realized the bull wasn't actually chasing us. Just standing there, indifferent to our teenage drama. We collapsed onto the grass, soaked and breathless.

"You look like you needed that quarry bath," Riley said, wringing out her shirt. "Everything okay?"

Something about not looking at her face made it easier. I told her everything. She listened, actually listened, and when I finished, she said, "That's some bull, Tyler. I mean, actual trash behavior."

I snorted. Then really laughed. For the first time all day.

"Friend," she said, extending a hand like we were making a weird business deal. "Like, actual friend. Not the kind who stabs you in the back for a crush."

I shook it. "Friend."

My phone buzzed somewhere on the rocks. Probably Tyler, probably apologizing, probably wanting to pretend nothing happened. But the sun was setting gold over the water, and Riley was tossing the tennis ball for Buster, and I realized I'd rather be here. Running toward something better.