Summer between races: chapter 1
Summary: Arvid turns nineteen surrounded by the people he’s always called home. Between birthday candles, warm summer nights, and a family photo, nothing seems out of the ordinary.
Until it does.
arvid lindblad x fem!reader warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, angst, jealousy, family vacations, (smut later on) MDNI 18+
The Lindblads’ house in Portugal never changed.
Not really.
The white walls had been repainted over the years, the garden had grown fuller with olive trees and bright pink bougainvillea climbing the stone walls, and someone had finally replaced the old wooden table on the terrace after Arvid had accidentally broken one of its legs trying to climb onto it when he was thirteen.
But it still smelled like salt from the ocean.
Still echoed with laughter before anyone had even arrived.
Still felt like summer.
You’d spent enough holidays here to know every corner of the house better than your own.
Which was why no one questioned it when you walked through the front door without knocking.
“She’s here!” one of Arvid’s younger cousins shouted from somewhere upstairs.
His mum looked up from arranging flowers on the dining table and smiled the second she saw you.
“There you are.”
You crossed the room to hug her tightly.
-“I wouldn’t miss his birthday.”
“I know.”
She squeezed your shoulder affectionately.
“He keeps pretending he doesn’t care, but he’s been asking what time you’d get here since breakfast.”
-“He has not.”
You laughed.
“He absolutely has.”
Before you could answer, someone wrapped an arm around your shoulders from behind.
“Talking about me already?”
You didn’t even have to turn around.
-“Nineteen years old and you’re still eavesdropping.”
“You came all the way to Portugal just to insult me?”
-“I flew here because your mum invited me.”
You finally looked at him.
-“…The insulting you is just a bonus.”
Arvid rolled his eyes, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him immediately.
“You’ve gotten meaner.”
-“I’ve gotten older.”
“By twelve months.”
-“Which is why you should respect your elders.”
“Oh, here we go.”
You reached into your bag.
-“For the birthday boy.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You actually got me something?”
-“I know. Shocking.”
He accepted the small wrapped box, turning it over in his hands.
-“You can open it later.”
“You don’t trust me?”
-“I know you.”
He laughed quietly.
“Fair.”
His fingers brushed yours as he tucked the present under his arm.
Neither of you moved away first.
“Arvid!” his father called from the garden. “Come help me with the lights.”
He sighed dramatically.
“Duty calls.”
-“Go be useful.”
“You know,” he said, walking backwards toward the terrace doors, “you’re incredibly bossy.”
-“And yet you always listen.”
He pointed a finger at you.
“Don’t get used to it.”
-“You’ve been listening to me for almost fifteen years.”
“…Unfortunately.”
-“Happy birthday.”
His expression softened almost imperceptibly.
“Thanks.”
For a heartbeat, it was just the two of you.
Then one of his cousins ran straight between you carrying a football, nearly knocking Arvid sideways.
The moment disappeared as quickly as it’d come.
—
By sunset, the garden looked like something out of a postcard.
Long strings of warm fairy lights stretched between olive trees.
Candles flickered inside little glass lanterns.
The dining table was covered with grilled fish, roasted vegetables, fresh bread, bowls of salad, and more desserts than any family could realistically finish.
Music drifted softly through hidden speakers while conversations overlapped in three different languages.
You found your seat without asking.
It had always been beside Arvid.
No one had assigned them years ago.
It had simply… become yours.
“So,” his uncle announced, raising his glass. “To our birthday boy.”
“Nineteen,” someone added.
-“You’re getting old.”
Arvid groaned.
“I’m literally nineteen.”
-“Exactly.”
Everyone laughed.
Glasses clinked together.
You reached for yours at the exact same moment Arvid reached for the bread basket.
Your hands bumped.
“Sorry” you said, sightly flushed
“You first.”
-“No, you.”
“You sure?”
You nodded.
-“Always.”
He smiled before taking the basket.
Later, halfway through dinner, his mum asked you about university.
His aunt wanted to hear about your latest trip.
His cousins argued over football across the table.
The conversations flowed naturally.
But every few minutes—
You looked up.
He was already looking.
It wasn’t intentional.
It never was.
Across the table, someone would tell a joke.
Your eyes searched for his before you laughed.
When his father started teasing him about his driving, he looked at you first, already knowing you’d be trying not to smile.
He shook his head.
Don’t.
You laughed anyway.
“Traitor,” he mouthed.
You shrugged innocently. His grandmother noticed.
She always noticed.
She leaned slightly toward his mother.
“They’re looking at each other again.”
His mother smiled into her wine.
“They always do.”
“They have since they were children.”
His grandmother hummed knowingly.
“They’re hopeless.”
—
Dinner stretched long into the evening.
Plates were cleared away.
Someone brought out cake.
The family sang loudly and terribly, completely off-key.
Arvid buried his face in his hands.
“I don’t know these people.”
-“They’re literally your family,” you laughed.
“Unfortunately.”
He blew out the candles in one breath while everyone applauded.
Then came presents.
Then coffee.
Then another bottle of wine.
The adults stayed talking around the table while the younger cousins disappeared into the house to play video games.
The night settled warmly around everyone.
You slipped away quietly, not because you were bored, just because you knew exactly where he’d be.
-“Rio,” you called softly.
A golden retriever came bounding around the side of the house so fast his paws slipped on the stone path.
-“There you are!”
He crashed into you with enough force to nearly knock you over.
-“Oh, hello to you too.”
You crouched immediately, laughing as he shoved his head beneath your hands.
-“I missed you.”
His tail wagged so violently his whole body moved with it.
-“You’ve gotten so big.”
Rio answered by dropping a well-chewed tennis ball into your lap.
-“You want to play?”
Another bark.
-“I’ll take that as a yes.”
You threw the ball across the garden.
He sprinted after it.
“You spoil him.”
You didn’t need to turn around.
-“I do not.”
Arvid leaned against one of the olive trees, hands tucked into the pockets of his linen trousers.
Moonlight caught the edge of his smile.
“He waits for you every time you come here.”
-“He likes everyone.”
“He doesn’t.”
Rio ignored the tennis ball entirely, running straight back to you instead.
You laughed as he rested his head against your knees.
“See?”
Arvid folded his arms.
“Case in point.”
You looked up.
He was already looking at you. The fairy lights reflected softly in his eyes.
Neither of you said anything.
You simply smiled.
And somehow, that had always been enough.
Rio had long since given up on the tennis ball, deciding your lap was far more interesting, while conversations drifted lazily across the garden behind you.
The night had settled completely now.
The fairy lights cast warm pools of light over the stone patio, and somewhere inside the house someone had turned the music up just enough for it to spill through the open windows.
“Arvid!”
His cousin’s voice broke the silence.
“We’re taking a picture!”
He sighed dramatically.
“Do we have to?”
“Yes.”
“I already know what I look like.”
His aunt laughed.
“And we want to remember your birthday.”
“I’ll still be nineteen tomorrow.”
-“You complain too much,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.
“You started it.”
-“I always do.”
He shook his head with a smile.
“You really do.”
—
Within minutes, everyone had gathered near the olive trees.
His grandmother sat in the middle.
The younger cousins argued over who got to hold Rio.
His parents stood behind them while someone balanced a camera on a tripod across the garden.
“Okay!” his uncle called. “Birthday boy in the middle.”
Arvid obeyed with an exaggerated sigh.
You stayed near the back, figuring there wasn’t much room left.
-“There,” you said. “Perfect.”
His mum frowned.
“What are you doing all the way over there?”
-“I’m fine here.”
“Nonsense.”
She waved you over as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Come stand next to Arvid.”
-“Oh.”
You glanced at him. He simply shrugged.
“Come here.”
So you did.
You slipped into the empty space beside him.
The photographer looked over the camera.
“A little closer.”
You took half a step.
“Closer.”
You laughed.
-“We’re already touching shoulders.”
“Exactly.”
Without thinking, Arvid rested a hand lightly against your waist, guiding you the last few centimeters toward him.
It was absentminded. Comfortable.
The sort of movement neither of you questioned anymore.
“There we go!” the photographer grinned.
“Smile!”
The flash went off.
Then another.
“And one more!”
By the third picture, everyone was laughing because Rio had escaped the cousins and was trying to jump into frame.
The camera clicked one last time.
“Done!”
The family immediately scattered.
His grandmother headed back toward the table.
The adults reached for another bottle of wine.
The cousins chased Rio across the lawn.
You started to step away—Only to realize Arvid’s hand was still resting against your waist.
Your breath caught.
He looked down at the exact same moment.
-“Oh.”
He pulled his hand back almost instantly.
“Sorry.”
-“It’s okay.”
Neither of you moved.
Neither of you quite knew why the air suddenly felt different.
Then his cousin walked past with a grin that was far too knowing.
“You know the picture’s over, right?”
Your face warmed immediately.
Arvid rolled his eyes.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.”
“You say too much.”
His cousin only laughed as he disappeared back toward the table.
You looked anywhere but at Arvid.
“So…”
-“I think Rio wants his ball back.”
“Right.”
You bent down a little too quickly to pick it up.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Neither of you mentioned it again.
—
The evening stretched on. People drifted into little groups around the garden. Someone put together a playlist.
His dad and uncles started another conversation about motorsport.
The younger kids disappeared inside to find dessert.
You excused yourself to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen.
-“I’ll be back,” you told Arvid.
He barely looked away from the conversation he was pretending to listen to.
“Okay.”
It wasn’t unusual, you came and went all the time.
You always came back.
A few minutes passed. Then ten
Without thinking, his eyes lifted toward the house. No sign of you.
He looked toward the terrace, still nothing.
“You alright?” his dad asked.
“Hm?”
“You keep looking around.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m just…” He frowned slightly.
“…looking for her.”
His dad smiled into his drink but said nothing.
Arvid stood. “I’ll be right back.”
He wandered toward the front of the house. The warm laughter from the garden faded behind him.
As he rounded the corner, he heard your voice.
You were standing by the front gate beneath one of the lanterns, talking to one of his family’s guests—a guy around your age who’d arrived with family friends earlier that evening.
The conversation looked easy. Comfortable.
You laughed at something he said.
The guy smiled back.
After a moment, he checked the time.
“I should probably head home.”
-“It was nice meeting you.”
“You too.”
He leaned in, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping back.
You smiled.
-“Drive safely.”
“I will.”
Arvid stayed where he was. Hidden just enough that neither of you noticed him.
It was nothing.
A polite goodbye, perfectly normal.
So why did something tighten in his chest?
He’d seen you talk to people a thousand times and he’d never cared before.
The guy climbed into his car and drove away.
You turned toward the house again. Before you reached the steps, Rio came bounding around the corner.
Without hesitation, he ran straight past Arvid and straight to you.
You laughed as the dog nearly knocked you over.
-“There you are.”
Arvid watched from the shadows for another second.
For the first time in years…
He wondered what it would feel like if, one day, you stopped coming back to him first.
