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He’ll never see her again.
another song plays that makes me think of her.
I hope she’s absorbing the words from the songs, like my love could be a protective spell, even if she’s unaware of
how much I adore you—“whether
And it’s responsible for everything that we consider to be ‘us.’
Autumn, word by word, and I wish I could understand how your brain is able to do that.”
It records all this information and still misses so much.”
She smiles at me, making my heart beat faster.
maybe, on some level, her brain understands that I’m playing this song for her.
“I’m never drinking rum and Coke again.”
I’m not sure which I want more: for her to stay or for me to read it.
that she’s not ready to share it. “No. It’s time.”
glance at her beautiful, scared face, then begin to read.
I’m already falling under the spell of her words.
I want to tell her that I’m honored to have glimpses of our lives in her book, but I know she’d want me to keep reading.
It’s us. It’s not us. It’s us. It’s not us.
Aden is kissing Izzy, and she is kissing him back.
my brain, ever ready to multitask when it comes to Autumn, takes note of her occasional glances at me.
Aden sees through Izzy’s insecurities and appreciates her strengths.
But the way that Aden loves Izzy? That is me.
But if Autumn has depicted my love in such perfect nuance, then it means she knows. It means she’s always known, always understood how I feel about her.
“Why did you have to leave me like that?”
She wasn’t ready? I scared her.
She wasn’t ready? And I scared her.
I’d tried to be romantic, but I’d missed her cues.
“I’m sorry. I hate myself for hurting you.”
“I never know what to do to make you happy, do I?”
“You make me happier than any other person ever has.”
Autumn wasn’t ready for me to kiss her. Autumn doesn’t want me to apologize for kissing her. I make her happy.
“What if I kissed you right now?”
“That would make me happy.”
You aren’t facing her, my brain gently nudges me.
All apologies, every apology, is forgotten, and my lips are on hers. I am only my lips. No other part of me exists. Autumn. I’m kissing Autumn.
Don’t fuck this up, Finn.
This is real. This is happening.
She wants this. She wants me.
I’m simply a soul existing ecstatically in the universe.
Time and space are meaningless, temporary, inconsequential to me.
Autumn wants me.
“Oh, Autumn.” My friend. My dream. My love.
Autumn seduced me.
You are cherished. I kiss her forehead. I’ll be whatever you need me to be after this. I kiss her cheek. Whatever you want me to be. I kiss her other cheek. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”
I’ve never known euphoria like this.
I’m so happy that I could die.
“I know that you know I’ve been in love with you for forever. You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’ve always known that you knew.”
Why is Autumn upset that I knew that she knew I loved her? I’m not mad at her for knowing it.
“You liked me like that back then?”
“But isn’t that why you stopped hanging out with me in middle school? Because you got tired of me wanting to be more than just friends?”
“But after I kissed you, you knew?”
