It was around ten o’clock at night.  Our parents were upstairs talking.  We were both exhausted.  I had already played two soccer games, and you had played one.  It was snowing out of the dark blue sky that we could see from the small window near the ceiling.  We were in the basement.  It was hot, and we were hiding behind the overstuffed armchair with embroidered flowers.  We both held half loaded nerd guns.  The room around us looked like it had been blown up.  Ping pong paddles, Nerf bullets, and tennis balls were scattered around.  We were trying to get a shot at your younger brother.  This was our last life.

I don’t know if you were thinking this, but as I shot at him, I thought of how perfect of an opportunity it was to kiss.  We were crunched up, and my whole entire side of my body was touching you.  All I could think about was how I couldn’t think of a better moment.  I have always assumed that you like me.  I still think that you do.

I never notice people’s eye color.  I forget my best friends, the person I like, the kid who has the longest eyelashes in the whole entire freaking world, but there is no way on a million years that I could forget your eye color.  It is light blue, just like you North Carolina basketball shorts that you always wear when we are visiting.

I remember when I used to be better than you at everything.  The first thing that you beat me at was how high you could throw a rock at the sand dunes.  The second was who could win in a race across the field from the swing to the volleyball courts.  The third was who could throw the farthest into the gray-blue ocean.  Then you got taller.  Then you got more muscular.  Then you could pin me down.  I can still beat you when we swim across the inlet.  I don’t know how long that is going to last, but I don’t mind.

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1 Comment

  1. awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

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