The Summer of Us
Summer came with golden light and laughter.
The school year ended, the air smelled of salt and sun, and for the first time in a long while, Fabiola felt like she could breathe again.
Ben kept his word.
He didn't rush her. Instead, he started showing up — helping her mom with groceries, texting her funny memes, walking with her after school. Slowly, the silence between them softened.
One evening, when the sky was a pale watercolor of pink and violet, he stopped by her house with his bike.
"Wanna get ice cream?" he asked, grinning.
Fabiola hesitated, then smiled. "Sure."
They rode down the coastal road together, the ocean wind whipping through their hair. Ben watched her laugh, the sound bright and unguarded, and realized just how much he'd missed it.
They sat on a wooden bench by the beach, the waves brushing the shore in gentle rhythm.
"You know," Fabiola said, staring at the horizon, "I used to think love was supposed to be easy."
Ben turned to her. "And now?"
"Now I think it's about trying — even when it's hard."
He smiled softly. "Then maybe we're getting it right this time."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the sea, endless and alive. Then, slowly, Ben reached for her hand.
Her fingers trembled, but she didn't pull away.
It was the smallest gesture — but it felt like the whole world shifted.
That summer became a collection of memories.
Late-night calls that lasted until sunrise.
Trips to the farmers' market where they bought fruit and argued about which smoothie was better.
Study sessions that turned into laughter, laughter that turned into silence, and silence that turned into something deeper.
Sometimes they'd lie on the grass behind her house, watching the stars.
"Do you think things happen for a reason?" she asked one night.
Ben looked up at the sky. "I used to think no. But then you moved here."
She smiled, her heart swelling. "Smooth."
He chuckled. "Honest."
When she turned to look at him, he was already looking at her — his eyes soft, full of something she'd never seen before.
Her breath caught. "Ben…"
He reached out, brushing a curl from her face. "You have no idea what you do to me."
Before she could reply, his lips were on hers — gentle at first, then desperate, as if they'd both been waiting for this moment forever.
The kiss tasted of summer and salt and promise.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Fabiola whispered, "What was that for?"
Ben smiled faintly. "For everything I couldn't say before."
And for the first time in months, her heart felt whole.