Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

I waited a few seconds longer, hoping he would wake up, that he’d shake it off, that he’d reach through his stubborn pride for the girl who knew he could be more than he was settling for.

When he didn’t, I shook my head, grabbed my bag off the floor, and gave him what he wanted.

And I finally realized he could never do the same for me.

The Art of Disappearing

Heavy, dark clouds hung over Florence all weekend long, allowing me the permission I needed to lie in bed and do nothing but overthink.

It never did rain. It was balmy, hot, and humid, but completely overcast, like summer was holding on with a death grip as fall tried to force its way in.

“I made soup,” Angela said after a gentle knock on my door Sunday afternoon. “And before you say you’re not hungry, you should know that I’m not above force-feeding you, and that would be traumatic for both of us, so just… eat it. Or throw it out your window when I’m not looking so I feel better.”

I tried to smile, but found the muscles rusted from lack of use.

She sat the bowl on my bedside table before climbing under the covers with me and wrapping me in her arms, resting her chin on my shoulder. “He’s going to come to his senses,” she promised softly.

“I think he already has, hence the shoving me out of his dorm and reminding me what he told me at the beginning of the summer.” I closed my eyes and shook my head against the shame I felt like a hot iron in my chest. “It’s what you told me, too. I should have listened.”

“It’s different now and we all know it,” Angela said. “Yes, I was worried, but the more I saw you two together, the more I saw it…” She leaned up on her elbow, waiting until I looked up at her. “He cares about you, too, Harley. He’s just scared to admit it.”

I swallowed, nodding like I believed her, and even twenty-four hours ago I would have agreed. But time and distance had my thoughts growing quieter and quieter, until the only thing I sat with was the truth.

That he told me to go.

That he said he didn’t love me.

That ever since I met him, he’d been a man of his word.

Why would that change now?

“Please, eat some soup,” Angela pleaded. “And take a shower. A short one,” she said before I could protest. “You don’t even have to wash your hair, okay?”

I shook my head, burrowing deeper into the covers.

“You might see him tomorrow,” she said softly. “If he’s in class. And if he is, do you want to be smelly and miserable-looking?”

I groaned. “No.”

“That’s what I thought. Come on,” she said, hopping over me and off the bed before she grabbed my wrists and pulled until I was sitting upright. “Eat,” she said, pointing at the soup. “And then shower,” she added, pointing at the door.

I saluted her, and then she left me alone, and though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I knew I at least owed it to her to try to eat. This was the girl who warned me from the start, who told me to keep my feelings out of it, and to remember the verbal contract I’d signed.

And even though she’d warned me, she was still here trying to help me through the consequences I brought on myself.

I managed to eat half the soup, and I took a long, piping hot shower before crawling back into bed. I stayed there until morning, lying there until the last possible minute before I needed to get dressed and out the door for class.

My stomach was in knots the entire walk, the overcast sky making it feel like I was in the Twilight Zone. I walked, but it didn’t feel like me walking. I sat down at my stool, but it didn’t feel like me sitting. I propped my textbook up on my easel, but it didn’t feel like my fingers on the pages.

And when Liam didn’t show, I felt nothing at all.

The next day, however, my sorrow and anxiety turned into something darker, something more sinister.

Anger.

Or perhaps just an intense level of annoyance.

Either way, I scoffed to myself when he didn’t show up to class again, fuming all through the lecture on how he had not only blown me off, but now he was throwing away an entire summer semester of work because of his stupid pride.

I simmered on it all through my internship, too, and by the time I made it back to the dorm, I was raging.

“I’m going to his place,” I announced to Angela, throwing my bag against the wall so hard, my textbooks sounded like a gunshot.

She jumped, dropping the small piece of balsa wood in her hand that I assumed was about to be part of the roof she was building on her model.