Summer Romance
I’ve always heard of summer romances and on some level, I’ve always wished to have one. Last summer I got to experience one and I’m not quite sure, even now months later that I quite understand it myself. It was July 16th when I met someone. He’s kind and he’s sweet, even know I hold him in high affection. We met when I was in Boston down Quincy Market getting a pretzel, he was getting a pastry, a little carrot cake if I’m not mistaken from one of the pastry stalls nearby. I found him attractive, especially when I heard his accent when he ordered. My breath swelled and stilled in my chest for one brief moment as I passed behind him.
I made it to the other end of Quincy Market, had sat down on the steps, and had taken out my book of choice when I felt the movement of someone sitting themself down on the stair near me. He stretched out his legs, and I caught from the corner of my eyes his distinct dark brown corduroy pants and tan shoes. I fought to keep my breath from speeding and slowly turned the page of my book before tabbing the edge. I put the book down next to me, on his side and took up my pretzel, my distraction of choice, and picked it apart piece by piece.
I felt rather than see him pick up the book and leaf through it. The moments when your heart is racing and everything seems magnified, its when you feel something rather than hear it or see it. He was there, next to me, me with the short boy cut hair. Me wearing knee length shorts while the other girls around me were wearing the fashionable short shorts. "Looks like a good book." It took all my will power not to stiffen, or flinch, or anything really that would make me seem as uncomfortable as I was feeling just then. This was not happening.
I nodded trying not to seem too stiff. "Its nice, I’ve read it a good couple of times." Trying to seem smooth I leaned back on my left elbow while using my right hand to block the sun so I could get a look at him. Short blonde hair, not my usual type, glasses, shaved, the brightest blue eyes. He was short and slender, one could almost say scrawny. I like scrawny, it makes me feel strong, like I can protect them.
"I like books." He smiled and thumbed through a couple more pages, his eye brows arched ever so slightly, "knights eh?" He smiled, "I’m a history major." I nodded. "I’m taking a summer semester here at Boston College."
"Like it here so far?" I smiled and took a bite of my pretzel, hoping it would calm my nerves.
"It was boring so far, lots of pretty lasses." He flashed a grin, "But none quite so interesting as you."
I laughed though my insides reeled, I believe my thought process about that point was, ‘Oh good graces. Oh good graces. Oh good graces.’ "You’re a flirt, and a bold flirt at that."
He grinned back, "My mum always said I’d be a lady killer."
"Ah, so you’re a player."
"I don’t plan to be playing for anyone, but this girl I’m sweet on." My heart skipped a beat.
"Oh, lucky girl back home?"
"Lucky girl sitting next to me."
The rest was history, he swooned my like a true player, small gifts and other tokens of affection, clever dates. He’s quite the player, quite the romantic best friend with a twist. The twist was, when his semester ended, so did the romantic swirl. We said our goodbyes I saw him off on his air plane. He left. We still talk, we talk about seeing each other again, how we miss each other and our romantic fling. It was the best summer of my life, I found someone who sought me out and who turned to be my best friend.