Six Summers to Fall

by C.W. Farnsworth

“We could do that for real.” I choke a little on my last bite of muffin. “Do what?” I strive for indifference and land somewhere close, I think. “Have sex.”

“Uh-huh. Well, you’re a talented actress. Made me wonder what you say when you’re not acting.”

OGH MY GODDD D JDNKDJE

“Are you going to kiss me?” I put it right out there, certain we’re both thinking it. “Depends,” he answers. “Depends on what?” “Is it part of this fake date to the wedding thing, or is it just us?” He doesn’t wait for a response, probably because the answer is written all over my face. There’s no one to see this. Whatever we say here—whatever we do—is a secret between us.

“I only called you Sunshine ironically once,” he tells me. “Every other time, it’s been because that’s how I feel around you. Bright and happy. Being around you makes me so fucking happy, Harper.” “I’m falling in love with you,” I whisper. His fingers continue playing with my hair, my favorite smile appearing. “Good. I’ve been falling for a while, baby.”

FINALLY OMG

“I fell in love with you during your dance routine to that Spice Girls song,” he tells me. “And then again, when I saw you in that pink bikini. When you dropped that lime. When we kissed for the first time. When you caught that fish. When we danced at Amelia’s wedding. When you showed up at my game, wearing my jersey. And I’ll fall in love with you a thousand more times.”