Summer in the City

by Alex Aster

I swallow. “Your favorite movie is an alien love story?” His eyes are glittering. “Only if you’ve written it.”

My overall presence can be summed up as unapproachable, which is why I’m so surprised Parker approached me in that club in the first place. And why he hasn’t already ended our tenuous agreement.

I feel the defensiveness surge, with the predictability of the tide. Part of me wants to ignore him. Another part realizes that if we’re going to spend the summer together, conversation is a given. We’re going to talk. I’m going to have to learn how to stop acting like every question is some sort of personal attack.

Parker doesn’t approach until I put the pen down, and, frustratingly, something in my marrow sings at the fact that he has learned a part of me, like I am some sort of board game with strict and confusing rules.

There are moments in life, I think, that make you grateful you didn’t just stay in your room.

“I thought Elf made up narwhals until five seconds ago.”

some generations are for working, so the next can dream.”

at the end of the day, the only important thing in life is who you love—and who loves you.”