If You Could See the Sun

by Ann Liang

I sneak a peek at his Spotify playlist, half certain it’ll be all just white noise or classic orchestral music, only to find Taylor Swift’s latest album playing instead.

Sometimes the universe offers us the things we think we want, but which turn out to be a curse,”

“Another author also said that the self and society are like the sea and the sky—a change in one reflects a change in the other.”

“Well?” Henry leans forward. His dark eyes are alight, his chin angled up a few degrees, the sure, sharp lines of his body tense with something like anticipation. I realize he’s waiting for me to give my opinion—no, for me to compliment him, like some kid proudly holding up his artwork for a class show-and-tell. My lips twitch. “I didn’t know you had such a praise kink.”

“Thank you...for doing all of this. Really. It—it’s even better than I imagined.” Maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but I swear I see his ears turn pink. “I’m glad,” he says quietly, holding my gaze for what seems like a second too long.

“You know,” I muse out loud, “if it weren’t for the fact that we hated each other’s guts, we’d probably make an impressive power duo.” I expect Henry to raise his eyebrows at me as usual or make a cutting remark, but his footsteps suddenly slow beside me. “Wait. We hate each other?”

“Are you saying you find my presence distracting, Alice?” “N-no. That’s not at all what I...” I clear my throat just as the bell rings, drowning out the rest of my half-formed protests. When the loud buzzing finally stops, Henry speaks up before I can. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” For some reason, he sounds weirdly excited.

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” I snap. “Netflix and chill?” His brows rise higher. And suddenly my face is burning too. Hastily, I add, “I meant in the literal sense, of course.” “Of course.”

Some emotion I can’t name passes over his face. He reaches out, his fingers forming a warm circle around my wrist, and I stop walking. Stop everything. “Then tell me,” he says, very quietly. “What exactly do you feel toward me now?”

Hes so pathetic i love him

“Is this the part where you kiss me?” He leans closer, and even in the dim hotel lights, I can make out the silent laughter in his eyes. “That was not my intention.” A pause, teasing. “Why? Did you want me to?”