How to Say I Do

by Tal Bauer

Good fucking God, he had a dimple, an adorable little divot in his left cheek that came out when his smile was as big as it could get.

“My memories from yesterday are mostly a blur, but I remember all the parts with you.”

He laughed, and our eyes met and held, and then I almost walked us face-first into the wall.

He hit me with his dazzling smile again. I wanted to do a thousand ridiculous things to keep him looking at me like that.

I held him beneath all those glittering constellations, and as the tide rolled in, I wished on every shooting star I saw that this little moment could grow into forever.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he said, steering me toward the porch where his yellow roses were waving hello. Home.