Six Summers to Fall

by C.W. Farnsworth

At this point in my career, I’ve seen hundreds of people wear my jersey. Maybe thousands. But this feels very different. This is the person I could see taking my last name, not just wearing it.

“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.”

“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.”