That Summer, We Almost Lost Each Other

The summer before college felt like it would last forever. Endless days by the lake, sleepy towns that never changed, and the kind of laughter that echoed long after dark. My best friend Emma and I had always been two halves of one story, but that summer, everything shifted. We’d grown up next door to each other, spending most of our childhood tangled up in scraped knees, whispered secrets, and impromptu dance parties to whatever song was playing. Even when high school got messy — the kind of messy that splits you into cliques and changes the way you look at yourself — Emma and I held on to what we had.But that summer, something felt different.It started when a group of travelers parked their rusty campervan near the lake. They were older, with sun-bleached hair and stories about places we’d only seen in movies. They invited us to sit around their fire one night, passing around roasted marshmallows and playing old indie tunes that made the dark feel softer. Emma was enchanted — especially by one guy named Leo, who smiled like someone who hadn’t thought about tomorrow in years.

I watched as she laughed at his jokes, leaning a bit too close to him. I felt a strange pang in my chest, like I’d accidentally touched a bruise. Maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was fear — fear of losing what was left of those childhood summers to someone new. That week, Emma began disappearing for hours. She was with Leo and his crew, swimming under the waterfall at dusk or lying on the hood of their van, pointing at imaginary shapes in the stars. Every time I asked her to hang out, she’d smile and say, “Tomorrow, promise.” But tomorrow never quite came.

One night, after texting her for the fifth time without a reply, I decided to go looking for her. The lake was still and dark as I walked the path, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. That’s when I saw her — sitting on the dock, alone, legs swinging back and forth over the water. She glanced up as I approached. “Hey,” she said, her voice small. “Hey,” I answered, sitting down next to her.For a moment, neither of us spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I didn’t mean to leave you behind. It’s just…everything feels like it’s going to change after summer, you know? College, new people, new places. It scared me. Getting close to someone like Leo felt like I could pretend none of that was real for a while.” I looked at her, realizing that fear I felt had been her fear too. “You never had to pretend,” I said. “We can face all that stuff together. "She smiled, leaning her shoulder against mine like we were kids again. And as the lake reflected the sleepy glow of the moon, we both knew that some friendships don’t just survive the summer — they grow even deeper when the world feels like it’s shifting under your feet.