Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

“So, I got a lashing from Professor B after class yesterday,” Liam said as we walked.

“What?” The word was more of a gasp when I said it. “No way, you’re his favorite.”

He chuckled. “Well, I guess his favoritism has run low. He wasn’t impressed with my latest assignment.” He frowned. “To be fair, neither was I.”

“Really? I thought it was great,” I said, recalling his dramatic painting of half a head, the bottom with the expected, full lips of a woman, but the top broken off and turning into a cloud of bees. “I took it to symbolize the way thoughts can buzz in our head so much, so loudly, that they take over.”

“That was the message,” he said with a sigh. “But… I mean, I started it that night at your place, and then I didn’t touch it again until two in the morning the night before it was due. It had the potential to be more, but I procrastinated, and the concept fell short. As did the technique.”

I grimaced, grabbing my opposite elbow behind my back as we turned to walk along the river. “I want to argue with you, but…”

“But it’s true. I know.”

Liam paused, balancing his elbows on the wall that overlooked the river. I took the spot next to him, absorbing the way the city lights and moon and stars reflected off the water.

“I’m not very focused. I haven’t been since…” He sniffed, but didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. “I just kind of feel like I don’t have a direction. And for the longest time I prided myself on that, because I know how fast the life we build can completely shatter and we have to pivot. So I figured by not having a strict set of goals and aspirations, I could embrace life for what it really is — which is to say, a river with a strong current, and I’m just another leaf that fell off a tree and into its waters.”

I smiled at the analogy.

“But… I know that won’t fly for long, as poetic as it all sounds in my head,” he admitted. He let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head as his eyes roamed the river. “I came here to do something. I just haven’t figured out exactly what.”

I moved a little closer, finding the crook of his elbow with my fingertips and drawing circles on the soft skin there. “If it makes you feel any better, I got a lashing, too.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he said. “You always get a lashing. I’m the perfect child.”

I snorted, shoving him away before he laughed and moved in even closer, wrapping his arm around me and resting it on my hip. He angled himself so he was facing me more than the river.

I didn’t mind it.

“I’m reverting back to all my perfectionist ways,” I admitted. “I’m sure part of it has to do with the news I got from home.”

Liam hooked his finger in the belt loop of my shorts, tugging me closer. “We never really talked about that. Do you want to?”

“Definitely not,” I said, shaking my head for emphasis. “I’m fine. Really, I am. I just think it triggered all those traps I’ve set in my mind all my life.” I looked down at my shoes. “I can feel that need to be perfect suffocating my art again. And I can’t exactly have a whole life of yes nights, or I’ll never get any work done. Or any sleep, for that matter.”

Liam frowned, looking up at the sky. “Maybe we can help each other, have our own Olympics and go for the gold — me in self-discipline, you in imperfection.”

“Your gold medal sounds a lot more appealing than mine.”

“Yours sounds a lot more fun.”

I smiled, considering his offer. “So, what would that mean, exactly?”

“Well, I think I have what you need, and you have what I need, and we both just need a little balance and training, that’s all. Like the gymnastics team.”

“Huh,” I said. “So, I’m your coach in self-discipline, and you’re mine in… letting go, coloring outside the lines?”

“Precisely. What do you think?”

I tapped my chin. “I think you’re not going to want to have sex with me if I start lecturing you about priorities and giving you homework.”

“There’s not a world that exists where I don’t want to have sex with you,” he said, wrapping both arms around me and pulling me all the way into him. “In fact, it’s kind of hot to think of you as a teacher.” His hands slid down to grip my ass, and he squeezed each cheek firmly, the tip of his nose meeting mine as he whispered, “Will you wear one of those plaid skirts like the girls in Clueless?”

“I do have one of those,” I said with a smirk against his lips. “It’s baby blue and white.”