It Only Happens in the Movies

by Holly Bourne

“I really did like that documentary,” I said. He kissed the top of my head. “Good, wasn’t it?” “Yeah. I mean, that’s what love is, isn’t it? Moments like that. Not chasing someone through the airport.” I felt his smile. “Or holding a boombox outside their house.” “Or sending them a message in a bottle.” “Or standing on their doorstep with some handwritten signs.” We shared them back and forth, our voices getting sleepier and sleepier. And, just as I reached unconsciousness, I had a thought. This, right now, was one of those moments. Me sharing the Milo thing and us talking about it. Him not judging it. Not judging me. Accepting it. Taking it on. Working our way through the misunderstanding and the ill-timing and the bad behaviour and the pressure to do what you think you should do rather than what you feel ready for. And, as sleep flowed through my limbs, making them heavy one by one, Harry must’ve thought the same thing. Because as I rolled over, my back spooned up against his front, he murmured, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Audrey Winters.”