Ezra had expected this summer to suck.

  Sneaking onto a construction jobsite with his dad was already technically illegal, but working instead of getting an allowance? That was downright cruelty.

  At least, that’s what he thought—until he met the crew.

  Big Bubba, Tweak, Terry, Daisy, and Jezoos were a rough-looking bunch, the kind of blue-colr veterans who could probably build a house with duct tape and sheer spite. They were loud, sweaty, and covered in sawdust, and when Ezra first arrived, they sized him up with the same look a man gives a puppy trying to bite a truck tire.

  And then Big Bubba—who was exactly as rge as his name suggested—grinned, crossed his massive arms, and ruined Ezra’s life forever.

  “Well, hell, wouldja look at that—it’s Cumstain!”

  Ezra’s soul left his body.

  Ezra spent the first few days moping. Every time someone threw the nickname at him, he just gritted his teeth and took it. It wasn’t exactly the same as Bruiser’s bullying, but it still stung.

  After a week, the crew noticed.

  One afternoon, while stacking lumber, Tweak—a wiry, grease-covered electrician who always looked like he had just been electrocuted—tossed a bottle of water at Ezra and squinted at him.

  “You know, kid,” he said, taking a swig of his own water, “I’ve seen snails with more fight than you.”

  Ezra wiped his forehead, scowling. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t like being called Cumstain.”

  Tweak howled, nearly doubling over. “Ohhh, buddy!” He turned to Terry, a burly, bearded man with concrete dust permanently embedded in his skin. “Terry, you hear that? He don’t like his nickname!”

  Terry wiped his hands on his jeans and grinned. “Oh, that’s precious. Hey, Cumstain, y’wanna hear a secret?”

  Ezra crossed his arms. “What?”

  Terry leaned in. “Ain’t nobody ever liked their nickname. Ever.”

  Daisy—a broad-shouldered woman who could probably break a 2x4 with her bare hands—nodded. “Hell, my first crew called me ‘Thunderthighs’ ‘cause I could outlift all of ‘em. I hated it.”

  “So what happened?” Ezra asked.

  “I outlifted all of ‘em again.” She smirked. “After that, they said it with respect.”

  Ezra blinked.

  Jezoos—a soft-spoken carpenter with a thick Spanish accent—chuckled. “I was ‘Rookie’ for three years. Even when I wasn’t a rookie no more.”

  Big Bubba wiped his face with a rag, grinning like a man who had been waiting for this conversation all day. “Kid, lemme tell ya something about life.”

  Ezra braced himself.

  “If someone gives you a nickname, you got three choices: Fight it, run from it, or make it yours.” He grinned even wider, “You wanna know the best part about nicknames?”Ezra remained silent, still trying to process despite the emotions welling up.“The best part about nicknames is that if you like ‘em, you get to keep ‘em.” He paused for dramatic effect. “An’ if ya don’t like ‘em.. Ya get to keep ‘em!”

  Tweak snapped his fingers. “Boom. Wisdom.”

  Big Bubba pointed a massive finger at Ezra. “You fight it? They’ll say it more. You run from it? You’ll never stop hearin’ it.” He leaned in. “But you own it? You take that name and say, hell yeah, that’s me?”

  Bubba grinned.

  “Then it ain’t an insult no more. It’s a damn badge of honor.”

  Ezra stared.

  “That’s the trick to life, kid,” Daisy added, crossing her arms. “You don’t let ‘em see you sweat.”

  Jezoos nodded. “If they see it gets to you, they win.”

  Tweak grinned like a mad scientist. “So, Cumstain,” he said, drawing out the name dramatically, “whatcha gonna do?”

  Ezra thought about it.

  Then—

  He grinned back.

  By the end of the summer, Ezra wasn’t moping anymore.

  If someone yelled, “Hey, Cumstain!” he’d shoot back, “Whattaya need, Ball Sweat?”

  If they teased him about his white-streaked mustache, he’d rub his chin and say, “Jealous you can’t grow one yet?”

  When Big Bubba cpped a hand on his shoulder, grinning, and said, “Y’know, I think we made a man outta you this summer,” Ezra just smirked and said, “Damn right. Call me Cumstain again—I dare you.”

  Bubba threw back his head and ughed.

  “You see?” he said, nudging Daisy. “Told ya he’d come around!”

  Ezra had never felt more proud.

  Because this time?

  The nickname wasn’t an insult.

  It was respect.

  The summer had changed Ezra.

  Julie noticed it right away.

  When Ezra asked her out—to an actual date, not just their usual meetups—she pounced on the opportunity to tease him.

  “Ohhh,” she had grinned, practically skipping beside him as they walked through the park. “So this is a date? You trying to woo me, Ezra?”

  Ezra smirked slightly. “Maybe.”

  Julie blinked.

  …Something was different.

  Normally, Ezra would have turned bright red, stammered, immediately backpedaled, something. But instead? He just kept walking—like he was biding his time.

  Interesting.

  Julie narrowed her eyes mischievously.

  “Well, well,” she mused, sidling closer. “I don’t know if you have the rizz to pull this off, buddy.”

  Ezra rolled his eyes. “Rizz isn’t real.”

  Julie gasped dramatically. “HOW DARE YOU.”

  He just shrugged. “It’s just confidence with extra steps.”

  Julie stared. This was not the same Ezra who used to melt at even the tiniest bit of teasing.

  What the hell happened to him?

  She smirked, upping the ante.

  “So, what, you think you’re all grown up now? Big, strong blue-colr worker man?” She nudged him harder. “I bet you still cry when your dad shaves off your mustache.”

  Ezra didn’t even flinch. “That’s funny, ‘cause I remember you almost crying the day you found out what cum was.”

  Julie gasped again, louder, covering her heart. “HOW DARE YOU CALL ME OUT LIKE THAT.”

  She shoved him. Ezra barely stumbled.

  …Alright. He was holding out. He was pying the long game.

  Julie squinted suspiciously.

  “Oh, I see what’s happening,” she said slowly. “You’re just letting me talk.”

  Ezra gnced at her. Smirked.

  Julie’s stomach flipped.

  Oh. Ohhh. He’s pnning something.

  She couldn’t take it anymore.

  She pushed harder.

  “Y’know,” she said casually, folding her arms behind her head, “I think you’re getting too comfortable, Ezra. You used to be so cute when I teased you.”

  Ezra raised a brow. “Used to be?”

  Julie froze.

  …Damn it. He was picking apart her wording now.

  Okay. Screw it.

  She poked the bear.

  “Well,” she said, grinning wide, “since you’re so tough now, I guess I can call you Cumstain again.”

  As soon as it left her lips, she regretted it.

  Julie cpped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

  Ezra stopped walking.

  Slowly, so slowly, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable.

  And then—

  That smirk.

  The kind of smirk that a man gives when he’s already won.

  He tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp, and said:

  “I reckon I’m just proof your mom doesn’t swallow.”

  Julie’s soul left her body.

  She staggered back like she had been struck by the hand of God.

  “EZRA?!?” she screamed, hands flying to her head as if trying to hold her brain inside her skull.

  The wind stopped blowing.The earth held its breath.Somewhere in the distance, a car arm went off.

  Julie doubled over, wheezing, ughing, choking all at once.

  “YOU CAN’T—” she gasped. “YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT!”

  Ezra, grinning like a madman, shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.

  Julie, still gasping for air, pointed at him with pure, unfiltered respect.

  “…You’re not Ezra anymore.”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re…”

  She swallowed hard.

  “…The Cum-Back Kid.”

  By the time the sun started to dip below the horizon, Ezra and Julie had finally run out of steam.

  They had spent the st hour hurling insults at each other like Olympic athletes, their usual banter now an actual sport.

  “You’ve got the fashion sense of a blind possum in a tornado.”

  Julie gasped, clutching her chest. “You absolute cretin. You dress like a middle-aged divorcee going through a crisis at Home Depot.”

  Ezra ughed so hard he nearly fell off the park bench.

  Julie smirked. “I win.”

  Ezra wiped at his eyes, breath still hitching from ughter. “Nah, you always think you win.”

  Julie grinned. “That’s because I do.”

  Ezra just shook his head, settling back against the bench as they both caught their breath. The park around them had grown quiet, the distant sound of crickets starting to creep in. The streetlights flickered on, casting soft golden halos onto the pavement.

  For the first time that evening, neither of them spoke.

  It wasn’t awkward.

  Just… comfortable.

  Julie sighed, leaning her head back. “So… what do you wanna do? Y’know. When we’re older.”

  Ezra blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Uh… Like, job-wise?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ezra thought for a moment. “I dunno.”

  Julie huffed. “Lame answer.”

  “I mean,” Ezra chuckled, “I like construction, I guess. I could see myself working with my dad. But…” He tilted his head. “I wanna build something bigger. Maybe, like… a whole city.”

  Julie raised an eyebrow. “A whole-ass city?”

  “Yeah,” Ezra said, grinning. “And you can be in charge of its museums. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  Julie snorted. “Hell yeah, I would. I’d rewrite history my way.”

  Ezra ughed. “That’s literally what the White Coats do.”

  Julie gasped. “Take that back.”

  “Nope,” Ezra said smugly, “you’re the new White Coat now.”

  Julie smacked his arm. “I will end you.”

  Ezra just grinned wider.

  Julie huffed, folding her arms. “For real, though? I wanna dig up the past. I wanna be the person who finds the things no one else even knows are out there.”

  Ezra nodded. “I can see it. You’d be the type to lose your mind over some old bones.”

  Julie kicked his foot lightly. “Yeah? Well, you’d be the type to build something just so you can knock it down and build it again.”

  Ezra ughed. “Sounds about right.”

  Julie smirked, shaking her head. Then—without thinking—she nudged his shoulder with hers.

  Ezra nudged back.

  Julie bumped him harder.

  Ezra shoved her just slightly, grinning.

  Julie grinned back.

  Then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and—

  Oh, shit.

  Their faces smashed together so fast it was like a bad car crash.

  Julie’s nose hit Ezra’s cheekbone, Ezra missed her mouth entirely, and when they finally adjusted, it was sloppy, uncoordinated, and a goddamn disaster.

  Julie pulled back first, wide-eyed, lips slick with saliva.

  Ezra was just as stunned.

  Julie wiped at her mouth. “Dude.”

  Ezra blinked rapidly. “Was that—was that bad?”

  Julie, still processing, made a face. “I think—statistically, that was the worst first kiss in human history.”

  Ezra snorted. “Cool. So, uh… do we, like… try again or just pretend that didn’t happen?”

  Julie stared at him for a second.

  Then—

  She grabbed his colr and yanked him in for round two.

  And this time?

  It was only slightly less terrible.

  But somehow, Ezra didn’t mind at all.