That Summer Feeling: SUMMER 4EVER [H.S.]

60. Every Summertime

"Summer was here again. Summer, summer, summer. I loved and hated summers. Summers had a logic all their own and they always brought something out in me. Summer was supposed to be about freedom and youth and no school and possibilities and adventure and exploration. Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe."

- Benjamin Alire Sáenz

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SEPTEMBER 22nd — THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER

6:20 AM

I dream of him almost every night. I dream of us. It's the way my mind tends to deal with the stressful side of missing him. Each day of this month that goes by without being able to physically be with him pains me a bit more. So I take any form of him I can get for now, even if it's through a blurry intangible image of him in my head.

This particular time my dream gets rudely interrupted by a strange noise. At first, I think it was the unfamiliar settling of this apartment I have yet to learn and get used to or the random sounds of the city beyond my window. Nothing intended for me. So I ignore it to prioritize my sleep. I desperately need it after the long week I had. But the noise repeats itself. Only this time I can recognize that it's not just any noise, it's a whisper of my name.

"Ace... Baby, wake up."

I still think I'm dreaming even with my eyes open. When I blink and adjust to the lack of light and see a figure sitting beside my bed. I want to scream out of fear at first and I almost do but then I register the familiar shape and features and my throat grows dry. It's him.

"Harry?" My voice croaks as my face twists in confusion. The same grin I've been dreaming about is now hovering beside my head and I'm suddenly filled with shock and joy.

"Hi."

I immediately reach out, pushing the blanket off my arms so I can wrap them around him, needing to feel him with my hands to know he's actually here. My senses are instantly welcomed by his sweet woodsy scent and the warmth of his body, clinging to him like he might slip away at any second.

"Hi," he repeats with a soft laugh. He ends up collapsing directly on top of me, but I don't care. I hold him tighter because his weight and presence are reassuring and comforting.

"Are you really here?" I hear myself asking, deeply breathing the air above his neck, gripping the soft material around his upper body.

I feel him nod and press light kisses to the curve of my neck to reassure me. "I'm here, love."

When my brain feels a little less foggy with slumber, I ease him back to face me. I take in his eyes first, still able to make out the dreamy green swimming in them in the soft light. My finger traces each feature I've only been able to see through my phone for the past weeks. I go over his dark brows and the slope of his nose. I feel the prickle of his stubble above his lips and around his cheeks. I poke one of his dimples and watch it deepen with his grin.

"Hi," I whisper, holding onto his chiseled cheeks then smooth his hair back when a few strands fall forward. I can tell he just got a haircut because it's shorter than I remember but I couldn't confirm with him because he leans in a closes the gap between us.

The world feels like it stops spinning completely the second our lips meet. He feels soft and slightly damp and brings the same feeling in me as always. It's the piece of a puzzle I've been longing for since we parted ways.