The Tomboy Childhood Friend Who Came Back Hotter Than Ever

The screen door creaks, and then she's there. Rin. Standing in your doorway with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a white tank top that clings to her in ways that should be illegal and a pair of cutoff shorts that show off legs you don't remember being that long. Her hair is down, messy and dark, framing a face you've seen a thousand times but never quite like this. And she's grinning. That same crooked grin she's always had, the one that says she's about to make your life a living hell.

"Yo, dumbass." Her voice is exactly the same — loud, teasing, full of warmth.

"You gonna just stand there or are you gonna help me with my bag?" She doesn't wait for an answer. She drops the duffel on the floor, kicks off her sneakers, and crosses the distance between you in three long strides. Before you can react, her arms are around you, pulling you into a hug that's far too tight and far too warm.

"Missed you, idiot." She mutters against your shoulder, and for one terrible, wonderful moment, you're acutely aware of every inch of her body pressed against yours.

Then she pulls back, punches your shoulder hard and grins. "You look exactly the same. Did you even grow? I swear you're shorter." She ruffles your hair, then pushes past you into the house like she owns it. Her bare feet pad across the floor, and you find yourself staring at the way her hips move in those tiny shorts. She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow.

"What? Did I spill something on my shirt?" She looks down at herself, completely oblivious. "Nah, I'm good. Hey, what's for dinner? I'm starving. And I call dibs on the shower first."

She's already heading for the stairs, already making herself at home, already treating you exactly like she always has. But nothing is the same. And she has no idea.

The beach is packed with summer crowds, the air thick with the smell of salt and sunscreen. You've been looking for Rin for ten minutes, weaving through umbrellas and towels, when you finally spot her. She's sitting alone on a bright blue towel, legs stretched out in front of her, one knee bent as she rubs lotion into her thigh. Her black string bikini is soaked from a recent swim, and her sun-kissed skin glistens under the afternoon heat. A glass of orange juice with ice sits beside her, condensation rolling down the side.

She hasn't noticed you yet. She's too focused on her task, her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips pursed. Then she looks up, and her face splits into that familiar grin. "There you are!" She waves you over, the movement causing her chest to shift in ways that make you suddenly very interested in the sand.

"Took you long enough. I was about to send a search party." She pats the empty space beside her on the towel. "Sit. You're already burning, look at your shoulders. Did you even put sunscreen on?"

She reaches for the bottle, her fingers already slick with lotion. "Take your shirt off. I'll do your back."

She says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, like it's the most normal request in the world. She's already squeezing lotion into her palm, waiting. "What? You think I'm gonna let you get skin cancer? Shut up and turn around." She grins, that same teasing smirk, and you realize she has absolutely no idea what she's doing to you.

"And after this, we're going in the water. No excuses. Loser buys ice cream."

The bathroom is still steamy from her shower, the mirror fogged, the air warm and damp. You were just about to knock when the door swung open on its own, and now you're standing in the doorway, frozen. Rin is there, bending over at the waist, wearing nothing but a small white towel that's slipping dangerously. Her short black hair is wet and sticking to her face.

Water droplets trail down her toned back and the backs of her thighs. She's reaching for something on the floor — a loofah, you realize — and she hasn't noticed you yet.

Then she glances up, and her eyes widen slightly, not from embarrassment, but surprise.

"Oh. Hey." She straightens slowly, one hand holding the towel together, the other now holding the loofah. The towel has ridden up so high you can see the curve of her rear. She doesn't seem to notice or care. "I dropped my loofah. This floor is slippery as hell, by the way. You should get a mat or something."

She pushes her wet hair back from her face, and the towel shifts again, revealing the full side of her chest. Still nothing. Still oblivious. "What are you looking at? You've seen me in a towel before." She raises an eyebrow, then smirks. "Don't tell me you're getting shy now, dumbass. It's just skin."

She brushes past you, barefoot and dripping, leaving wet footprints on the floor. "I'm borrowing your shampoo, okay? Mine ran out. And your towel is too small."

The store is bright and crowded, racks of summer clothes stretching in every direction. You've been following Rin around for half an hour, holding the pile of clothes she keeps handing you, when she suddenly stops in the swimwear aisle. She's holding two bikini tops — one black, one pink — and staring at them with an expression of deep confusion.

"I don't get it." She says, holding one against her chest, then the other. She's wearing a loose gray tank top that hangs off one shoulder, and you can clearly see she's not wearing a bra.

The outline of her chest is visible through the thin fabric, and she's completely unaware that half the store is now staring at her. "These are both my size. But they're so... small. Like, how is this supposed to cover anything?"

She turns to you, her brown eyes wide with genuine confusion, and holds both bikinis out. "Here. Tell me. Which one looks like it would fit better? Because I tried the pink one on, and I swear it was made for a doll."

She shakes her head, her messy hair falling into her face. "Maybe I should just wear a t-shirt to the beach. But then it gets all wet and clingy, you know? What do you think?"

She looks at you expectantly, completely serious, as if you're the expert on women's swimwear. The store lights catch the side of her chest through the tank top, and you realize you've forgotten how to speak. "Hello? Earth to dumbass."

She snaps her fingers in front of your face. "Black or pink? Pick one. And don't say both, because I'm not made of money."

The house is dark and quiet, the only light spilling from the open refrigerator. You woke up thirsty and made your way downstairs, only to find Rin already there. She's standing in front of the fridge, bathed in its cold glow, wearing nothing but one of your old white t-shirts. The shirt hangs off one shoulder and barely reaches her thighs. Her legs are bare. Her feet are bare. And from the way the fabric clings, you're pretty sure she's not wearing anything else.

She turns at the sound of your footsteps, a half-eaten pudding cup in one hand and a spoon in the other. Her hair is a mess, her eyes are half-lidded with sleep, and she has a smear of chocolate on the corner of her mouth.

"Hey." Her voice is soft and lazy. "Couldn't sleep either?" She takes another bite of pudding, completely unbothered by her state of undress. "I was hungry. And you have nothing good in this house. Like, who buys this many vegetables?"

She gestures at the fridge with her spoon. "But I found pudding. So it's okay."

She shifts her weight, and the shirt rides up another inch, exposing the black waistband of her panties. She doesn't notice. She's too busy licking the spoon.

"You want some?" She holds out the half-eaten cup, her head tilted, her expression soft and sleepy. "It's the last one. We can share. Unless you're scared of my cooties." She grins, that same old Rin grin, and the moonlight catches the freckles on her nose.

"Come on. Sit with me. We can raid the kitchen together. I think I saw some ice cream in the back."