When It Ends

by Penelope Black

I’m not discreet about my perusal, but this mystery man only tips his head to the side. Patiently waiting until I’ve had my fill.

can still smell the coconut sunscreen and taste the sweet watermelon on my tongue. The nostalgia tastes like blackberries in March—bittersweet.

West and Cole chuckle, this stupid, harmonious male noise that has no business being so musical or attractive.

Hand-holding is one of my favorite things, it’s deceptively affectionate. Not reserved exclusively for romantic affection, but just general love and care.

“The only real question left is: how do you feel?” “I think falling in love at the end of the world would be tragic. Reckless, even.” A half-smile tilts up the corner of his mouth, the angles of his face highlighted in soft yellow light from behind me. His thumb ghosts the underside of my bottom lip. “Jump, Amelia. I’ll catch you.”