If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

“Attagirl.”

“Hmm. I can’t tell if having a honeymoon on Halloween is cool or creepy.” “Creepy,” Michelle responds right before I say, “Cool.”

It’s raining outside, beating down on the sidewalk and splattering against the glass windows. But in the center of the lobby is the only woman who could make a rainy day seem not half bad. Maybe it’s because she’s a bigger storm cloud, and I like that about her.

I feel so silly with my stories from this town, especially ones with Cliff that never sound quite as funny as they did during the moment.

See? He likes it, Cliff mouths to me, tossing me a wink. Air catches in my throat, and I start coughing, having to take gulps of water to stop.

That wink should be illegal.

Teehee

He looks so different this late. In the glow of his porch light, his hair is messier. He wears checkered pajama pants and a baggy, faded Chicago Bulls tee. There are small dips under his eyes, but over them are round, wire-rimmed glasses. I bite my bottom lip to hold in my laughter. “You wear glasses?” He takes the glasses off, examines them, then puts them back on. “I do?”

But these feelings will all pass—everything does—like the seasons do.

Unfortunately, I’ve developed this irritating attraction to sour, controlling brunettes.

“Do me a favor,” she snaps. “What?” “Go get laid.”

My Cliff Burke.

My Cliff. All mine.

And it hits me. I love this woman. I don’t know when it happened. It slipped over me so softly, like the changing of seasons. The seeping scent of baked bread first thing in the morning. A wistful sigh on a perfect fall day.

Cliff likes talking. He likes praising. He likes roaming his eyes all over me in the dim lamplight, sliding his palms over every inch of my body. He likes flirting.

Oh Cliff... you're literally perfect.