Winter. The time for hot cocoas and all things cheery, with the exception that I was far from it and awfully lonely. Cuddle buddy anyone? Not for me, because I still felt played and betrayed by the boy I’d come across last fall. And I did fall, hard as hell for that matter. I was still licking my bruises and moping to the pitter-patter of the rain on my rooftops during those awful rainy days. I never really liked the cold, unless it meant hitting up Starbucks and getting myself a latte or chilling in bookstores for hours on end, trying to pass the time away until spring came. Cue Boy #1: tall dark and handsome. Not really my type, blonde-haired and blue eyed but we held interesting conversations, first stricken up by his question on where to find this book I’ve never read. I laughed and shook my head before he politely introduced himself. “Hello, my name is _____." We exchanged numbers and before I knew it, we started kicked it on the regular, discussing his poetry and my knack for scrawling snippets of spoken word when the right moments of inspiration struck me and had shared a few moments under the stars and a few cuddling sessions. That is, until his girlfriend returned from college, the girlfriend he never mentioned, for her winter vacation. Asshole.
Spring. I suppose this is where things warm up (aha). He moved into the house next door. Tan skinned, nice build and great fashion sense. He was definitely the boy next door: polite and genuine with the etiquette of a prince. He was charming. His parents invited my family and I to their house warming and he took the liberty to introduce himself. We had that neighborly love: bland and boring, waving across the yards when we came back home from school. One day, he decided to trudge through his mom’s azaleas to truly talk to me. That day, we watched tons of horror movies and discussed them thoroughly. Our favorite parts, why which movie was good and which was horrible, and suddenly we were kissing. His mother walked in on us in search of her son, saw us, and was absolutely horrified. I guess I knew why. I mean, we were home alone, in the living room, doing things that, uhm, couples do… and she dragged him by the shirt back into their house and never invited me or my family to another one of their parties ever again. He was not allowed to speak to me, and I was not allowed to even walk in front of their house on their sidewalk without getting bitched at from the top window, blinds bent for peering eyes. Crazy Christian lady. She took his cellphone away and occasionally, I’d see him solemnly look out the window, smiling apologetically at me before his mother came into the room with a Bible and smacked him in the head with it for his “dirty deeds.” Not even two weeks after, I suppose his parents realized that they didn’t like the area and weren’t happy with their jobs after all, so they packed up and moved halfway across the country, back to where they first came from. He told me he’d write to me, but I saw his mom dispose of my address as soon as she found it. I didn’t get to give it to him again.
Summer. Oh, the hot, cruel days and the warm, steamy nights. He was 5’8” with a taste for cigars and driving extremely fast. He liked getting high most of his summer days, invited me to share a bowl every now and then but I politely refused. He never smelled like it, though, nor did his breath smell laced with the scent of wine-flavored cigars. We never got together. Hell, we never even kissed; just kinda sat semi-awkwardly in his car on our random day trips to find something cool to do during such scorching afternoons, pun intended. Told each other we’d go on an ice cream date but we never really got to. Semi-awkwardly, minus the occasional sweet laughs when we’d tease each other or when I’d playfully poke his side to distract him from driving. I heard he was into me as much as I was into him, but I never really got proof. By the time summer ended, he left the city, college bound and started anew. Started driving in the fast lane like he always wanted to, leaving our almost-summer love in the distance, perfectly visible in his rear view.
Fall. School was back in session. I was tired of the lack of progression in terms of relationships, so I decided to fall back. All of the confusion almost gave me a heart attack. Weeks went by and I just floated around. The semester was coming to an end, so I decided it was time to bust my ass and hit the books. I grabbed myself a cup of coffee and headed out the door, book store bound. There I found him, chillin’ and reading one of my favorite novels. I pressed my lips together and nodded, impressed, then headed over to my favorite section to find a book of my own. Little did I know, I wasn’t alone. “Hello." His voice was like warm milk, if that’s even possible. Had chills running down to my toes and back up to my cuticles. Well, up until I realized this was déjà vu of what happened last winter, so I made a sort of withdrawn response in response to that mental splinter. He sensed my discomfort and made a half smile before recommending to me a book. Perks of a Wallflower. BAM. Holy shit, am I in love? But I took the book and pretended that I’d never read it and we conversed about it for a long time, him talking about why I would love it based on the book I had in hand. Something bloomed between us then. The crunchy golden leaves outside and the chilly weather made for perfect coffee dates and study sessions. I helped him in literature, he aided me in government, but to be honest, I could feel nothing but chemistry.
So we settled. Fall was when we began, and ironic, I fell hardest for him. Now we’re happy and deeply in love, and we’re going to continue to love each other through the seasons.
tagged as fiction. her.