Most Ardently

by Gabe Cole Novoa

“We’re permitted to bring a guest,” Darcy said. “We could bring a guest every week if we wanted to. I’d be happy to make you mine.” Oliver arched an eyebrow. Darcy’s face flushed pink. “My … guest. That is.”

“I can’t imagine,” Darcy said, “that you could ever be unextraordinary.”

“So you’re telling me,” Darcy said, sitting in the grass, “that in my panic about kissing a boy, I ran off to ask a boy to marry me. Out of every possible socially acceptable person I could have asked in England, I chose the only one who wasn’t actually a girl.” The thought had crossed Oliver’s mind. Now, with some distance between himself and that disastrous proposal, even he had to laugh as he sat beside the other boy. “Yes. I suppose you did.”

“I’d rather be secretly happy with you than openly living a lie.”