The final part of my short story!
The best times are the simplest: leaning towards each other over the counter, teasing and being teased by Nora. Sprawling out on the couch with a bowl of white cheddar popcorn, talking about books for hours, piling up phone bills. Him catching me as I walk down the hallway. Playing pranks on Peter and getting winked at by Nora. Sitting in the back row of the theater in Boston and mocking the chick flicks and pointing out the impossibilities of the action pictures. Watching him roll his eyes through classes and the feel of his arm around my waist as we cross Comm Ave.
Debating the relative merits of authors and then thrilling to discover the ones we agree about completely. Holding the phone to my ear till it starts to ache because we’re talking about ideas late into the night and I’m surprising myself, stumbling my way—prompted by him—into really figuring out what I believe. Those rare moments when he laughs and the even rarer ones when he lets me catch a glimpse of his life before Boston. The moments when he reveals the softness he hides and I tease and it all ends with a kiss and contentment.
I want it to last forever.
I’m scared to death because I know it won’t.