During the summer, there was a girl. I, however, was not
responsible for anything that happened between us. She was the
one who would talk about wanting to kiss me. She was the one who
asked if I liked her. She was the one who curled into my side
when we watched movies. My relationship with her didn't
last—whether it existed at all could be debated—but
the effect that it has on me endures. Maybe if it had lasted
longer, I would have learnt her confidence.
I could use it. I wish I had the courage to break this social
protocol I constructed in my head and ask you to tea for me and
whatever you want for you. Or the guts to take your phone and
scare it with my selfies. Or maybe the insanity to reach for your
I promise I won't propose anything rash. We don't have to
become a promise-ring-wearing,
take-on-the-world-because-we-won't-fall duo. I'm not sure
I'd want that. But what would be wrong with laying on the
grass during the summer and alternating between reading excerpts
of e.e.cummings and sharing bad puns? I know damn well that by
now you've figured out that I'm secretly a romantic, but
I have a suspicion that you are, too.
But the one thing about two shy introverts is that nothing will
ever happen if fate doesn't shove them together.