The week dragged on like it had weights tied to it.
Classes, work, homework, repeat. That was all Althea seemed to do lately. She barely saw Ethan except for the rushed moments in between shifts and classes, and even then, their conversations felt more like survival check-ins than real talks.
Have you eaten?
Don't forget your project.
Get some sleep.
She missed the days when they used to stay out late just to sit on the curb and talk about nothing, when even silence felt like enough because they were together.
By Friday night, she was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling, her heart heavy with the kind of longing that kept her awake. She missed him. The boy who laughed so easily, who always seemed to know when she needed his hand to hold. She wanted a reminder that they were still them, even if life was trying to pull them apart.
Her phone buzzed.
Ethan: "Clear your day. I'm stealing you tomorrow."
Her lips parted in surprise, then curved into the biggest grin she'd worn all week. She typed back quickly:
Althea: "Where are we going?"
Ethan: "Secret. Just dress comfortably. And bring that camera I got you."
The next morning, he showed up at her gate, leaning against his motorcycle like he hadn't just worked a closing shift hours before. His hair was messy, his plain shirt hung loose on him, and his eyes looked a little tired — but the smile he gave her was pure sunshine.
"Where are we going?" she asked as soon as she came out, bag slung over her shoulder.
"You'll see." He handed her a helmet, smirking. "Just trust me."
She narrowed her eyes. "Last time you said that, we ended up eating instant ramen on the sidewalk because you couldn't afford the restaurant you wanted to try."
Ethan laughed, that deep, unguarded sound that always made her feel like home. "Hey, you said it was romantic."
"It was! But only because you bought me the last choco bar from the vending machine."
"See? I deliver." He winked, then tapped the helmet. "Now come on. I promise this one's better than ramen."
The city blurred into the background as they rode. Althea pressed her cheek against Ethan's back, breathing in the faint scent of detergent and the lingering sweetness of the cologne he sometimes borrowed from his older brother.
The ride felt endless in the best way — her hair whipping in the wind, the steady hum of the engine beneath them, the warmth of Ethan's body against hers.
Finally, they pulled up to a small park tucked beside the river. It wasn't crowded — just a few kids chasing a ball, some families having picnics, and couples strolling lazily down the trail.
Althea's eyes widened. "I didn't know this place existed."
"That's because it's my spot," Ethan said, setting down the helmets. "I come here when I need to breathe."
Her heart swelled. "And you brought me here?"
He shrugged, pretending to be casual, but the grin tugging at his lips gave him away. "You're not just anyone."
They spread out his jacket on the grass and unpacked the sandwiches Althea had made. Ethan devoured his in seconds, then tried to steal hers until she smacked his hand.
"Greedy," she muttered.
"Hungry," he countered, grinning with his mouth full.
She snapped a photo of him mid-bite. The polaroid slid out, slowly developing. When the picture cleared, Althea laughed so hard her stomach hurt.
Ethan groaned, covering his face. "Delete it."
"You can't delete a polaroid," she said smugly, waving it at him. "This is going in my memory box."
"Great. So someday you'll look back and remember me as the guy who couldn't chew with his mouth closed."
"Exactly."
He shook his head, but there was affection in his eyes when he looked at her.
They wandered to the riverbank later, skipping stones. Ethan failed miserably, his rock plopping straight into the water.
Althea snorted. "Wow. That was… impressive."
"Don't mock me. That was strategy."
"Oh really? What strategy? To drown the rock immediately?"
He grinned, tossing another. It sank instantly. "Perfect execution."
She doubled over laughing, snapping another picture of his proud face. "You're unbelievable."
"Unbelievably handsome, maybe."
She rolled her eyes. "Keep telling yourself that."
When they got tired, they lay side by side on the grass, staring up at the sky. The clouds drifted lazily, and the cicadas hummed around them.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Ethan asked suddenly.
"All the time," Althea said softly. "Graduation, real jobs… maybe an apartment together."
He turned his head to look at her. "You'd want that? With me?"
"Of course." She nudged him playfully. "Who else would I steal food from?"
He chuckled, but then his expression shifted, turning serious. "I don't know if I can give you the kind of life you deserve."
Her chest tightened. She rolled onto her side, cupping his cheek. "Ethan. Stop saying that. You're already enough. You're everything."
He opened his mouth, like he wanted to argue, but she kissed him before he could.
The kiss started soft, lingering, like a whisper of reassurance. Then Ethan's hand slid to the back of her neck, deepening it. The world blurred until there was nothing but his lips on hers, the warmth of his body, the quiet desperation of two people trying to hold on to forever.
When they finally pulled apart, breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together.
"You always know how to shut me up," he murmured, smiling faintly.
"That's my job," she whispered back.
They spent hours like that. Eating ice cream from a cart and laughing when it melted down their hands. Walking barefoot along the river, their shoes dangling from their fingers. Sharing stories about their first impressions of each other.
"Remember the first time you asked me out?" Althea said, giggling. "You were so nervous you forgot my name for a second."
"I did not," Ethan protested.
"You literally called me Andrea."
He groaned. "Okay, fine. But at least I didn't choke on my drink like you did when you said yes."
Her face heated. "I was shocked! You were the guy everyone thought was too cool to date anyone."
"And yet, here we are." His voice softened, his eyes holding hers. "You're still the best yes of my life."
By the time the sun began to set, painting the river in pink and orange, Althea was curled up against him, their hands intertwined.
"Thank you," Ethan whispered.
"For what?"
"For today. For making me believe that maybe… forever isn't impossible."
Althea's throat tightened. She kissed his knuckles, whispering, "That's because it's not."
That night, after he dropped her home, she lay on her bed flipping through the polaroids. Each one captured Ethan in a different light — goofy, serious, soft.
She pressed one to her chest, whispering, "This is what happiness looks like."