Don't Be In Love

by Liana Cincotti

With one hand secure on my lower back, his other smoothed out my hair, twirling strands at the bottom. “I’m so glad,” he exhaled. “I’m so glad.” I could remain here all night. The rain could dissipate my clothes, soak the leather of my boots, and prune my fingertips. I didn’t care. My toes ached as I pushed up on the balls of my feet to hold onto him. Pick me up and kiss me, I wanted to tell him. Swallowing one more gulp of this moment, I reluctantly pulled my hands from his hair. But not before clipping my Red Sox hat keychain onto his belt loop. I kissed the side of his neck, felt him shiver, and ran back inside. I practically floated up to my bedroom. From my balcony, I watched him pull the umbrella back over his head. In a haze, he stared at the keychain attached to his hip. Then he looked at me. He opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head like a flustered kid. The smile on his face was no longer shy. My heart raced as if I was struck by some shock of electricity. ​Happy Birthday, Adelaide, he mouthed. And then he left. His figure was slowly taken by dark sheets of rain, like a tugboat tethered to a ship in an ocean. I felt myself leaning forward.