looking at your shoes. “I—I overreacted. It wasn’t a big deal and I just, I got … nervous.”
You were quiet for a moment. “I would never do anything, never try to do anything to hurt you.” You stepped closer, shoes closer. I felt your hand lift my chin. You swallowed, and I saw your Adam’s apple bob. “Ellie Walker, do you forgive me?”
There was part of me that wanted to say there is nothing to forgive, that I liked to feel you wanting me, that even as I pushed you away, I wanted more of you. Instead I said, “August Matthews, you are forgiven.”
You exhaled, and your shoulders slumped in relief. The air around us loosened its grip.
“I mean, what would I have done without the presence of the great August Matthews in my life?”
A smirk. “Suffer. Greatly. Obviously.”
“Quite true. It is such a bore to not be incessantly bothered. The silence was maddening.”
“Since you are practically Silence’s mistress, I will have to call bullshit on that.”
“Not true. I have words and worlds bouncing around up here.” I point to my temple.
“Yes, but I wish you would use your lips more.” You looked at my lips then, one second, two seconds, three seconds.
I wanted to say something, but I was so focused on your eyes looking at my lips that I forgot how to string words together.
Then you shook your head once as if to clear it and stepped back. “Want to go to our bridge?”
I liked how you said “our” bridge. I liked how it had been years since we had been there together, but it was still ours.
“Yes, I do.”
* * *
The bridge was the same as before. Just older and more used. You walked toward the spot where you’d carved our names in the wood.
I blinked and ran my finger over the letters. “I can’t believe it’s still so clear.”
“It might have had some help.” You pulled out the Swiss Army knife from your pocket and twirled it around.
“You’ve been re-carving it?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
You shifted from one foot to the other. “I—I didn’t want to let you go.”
I was blinking fast. I felt awkward and excited and afraid and everything in between.
I stared at your big, huge gray eyes. Those eyes that looked at me and made me feel like I was slipping into them. I stared at you, the boy who raced me down streets and who kissed me on bridges and who drew me pictures that made me feel awake and alive. I wanted to tell you all of this, but instead I blurted out, “Your eyes don’t fit in your face right.”
You blinked. “My eyes?”
“Yes, they are too big and when you look at me like that I feel like I might trip into them.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.” You cocked your head.
“Be offended. Seethe with resentment. Yes, I think that would be most appropriate.”
Maybe then I would stop climbing into your eyes, and floating in the gray of them without a lifeboat. I was teetering off balance as I realized that you had the goofiest and most beautiful grin on your face.
“What?” I said, shaking my head clear.
Your eyes and smile seemed to eclipse the whole of your face. You touched my nose. “Maybe I want you to trip into my eyes. I think it would only be fair since I am already lost in your freckles.”
My hand flew up to my nose. “My freckles?”
“Do you remember when we were in Ms. Bailey’s fourth grade class and we were learning about the stars?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes.”
You shifted. “I remember looking over at you. I purposely sat behind you and to the side because I wanted to look at you anytime without you filleting me with your gaze. I really loved all my body parts and wanted to keep them.”
I smirked and elbowed your ribs. I remembered feeling slighted when you had changed seats. I’d felt like you wanted space. All along, you’d just wanted me to be unaware of your growing attention. I might have blushed.
You smiled and swallowed. “We were learning about stars and how patterns of them had names and when we were playing after school one day, I started to look at your freckles and I wanted to name them like the stars in the sky because I felt like … they were beautiful and so far, far out of my reach.”
We were quiet. My heart was a bright yellow balloon and was floating somewhere above our