The Summer of Strawberry Pound Cake
The grass beneath you feels like fur, softly grazing your back and tickling your arm as you lay on the ground with your best friend.
You’ve been looking at her for a long time. Your eyes trace over her golden brown locks, her sun-kissed freckled face, her cherry blossom pink-tinted cheek, and finally, to her plump glossy rouge lip.
You feel adrenaline rush from your heart to your chest, and down towards your thighs, making your cheeks flaming hot and your heart beating like a bird trapped in a balloon. It is a strange thing, to desire your best friend, especially when you know it’s the wrong thing to do.
“What are you thinking?” She asks, turning her head to look at you. Under the sun, her amber eyes glow like syrup and her dark curly eyelashes flutter like fans, in rhythm with the bird flying in your chest.
“No— nothing,” you quickly snap your head away. Too close. You shut your eyes, trying hard to calm down the waves of tsunami crushing in your head and the hummingbird in your heart. Too close. Your lips were merely inches apart. You could’ve and almost, stolen the forbidden fruit.
“Oh, come on,” her warm fingers softly grasp your face, gently turning your head to face her, “you’ve been acting so weird lately, what’s wrong?”
Your body tenses like a rock. God. With your eyes still closed, you force yourself to breathe as you turn your head back, “it’s really nothing.”
The fingers on your face stiffen before faltering away.
“You’ve been keeping me away,” she says. Your eyes shoot open. Her voice, tight and quivering, cuts into you like knives. And the sun, which blaze right into your eyes, aches them like the way your heart feels.
“You know you are safe here and you can share everything with me. I will always be here for you.”
You shake your head and bite into your lip. You don’t know what to say. The lingering heat of her touch makes your head flutter like the panic bird in your chest more. You wish you have the words, no, you wish you have the courage, but right now, you do not have both.
A moment of silence passes as both of you are lost in your own worlds, minds flying with thoughts. The only sounds are the summer breeze gushing among the trees and the rhythm of one fast and one slow breathing that somehow tangles together perfectly to form a melody.
“I–” you try to speak, but language fails you sometimes. You feel trapped and suffocated in this water, this fever dream. You need to breathe, but you don’t know how to.
Suddenly, she takes a hold of your right hand with her palm and interlocks your fingers with hers. “Hey, it’s ok. You’re safe here. I’m always here for you,” she whispers gently, rubbing her thumb slowly across yours.
You turn your head. And there, in her almond-shaped eyes, you see all the up and down, happy and sad memories you’ve all had together. And there, in her soft, caring, and trustful eyes, you see what she has always seen, what she always will: you.
Right then, at that moment, you allow yourself to break. You don’t want to hide in the dark anymore. You know you have to emerge from the water before you suffocate. You know you can be honest with her. You know you can trust her. You know you are safe. You know the bird in your chest can finally go free.
You lean towards her, bringing in a wave of the Strawberry Pound Cake perfume she got you as you whisper to her ear before your lip finds hers.
“I love you.”
It’s summer now, and you’re being honest, here, now.
