Four Seasons of Summer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
I will look for you throughout the seasons.

Submitted: December 16, 2014

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Submitted: December 16, 2014

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Autumn

The first time I saw her was during the fall.

She was standing beneath an arch of fairy lights on the way to the carousel on the pier, and the lights twinkled on her dark, glossy hair and her paper-white skin. She was holding a huge camera in one hand, a half-smile on her face as she looked over at the crowd with bright eyes.

Despite her dark red pea coat and the grey scarf entwined loosely about her neck, I thought she looked and felt distinctly like summer.

 

Winter

I didn’t see my summer girl until the winter, when we bumped into each other inside a cafe/bookstore on 11th Avenue. I was buying a peppermint-mocha latte, waiting in line and jiggling my car keys inside my pocket. I heard sparkling laughter behind me and turned.

There she was, as enchanting as ever. She was with a female friend, and her hairstyle was shorter – a drastic change from her previously waist-length locks of hair.

She ordered a green tea frappuccino with extra whipped cream and holiday sprinkles, which I found unusual. A cold drink for an even colder day.

“Happy holidays,” she told me, giving me a sweet smile before exiting the coffee shop.

 

Spring

I was impatient to see her again, and finally I did. It was spring. I was a groomsman for my sister’s wedding, and she was there.

It was an outdoor garden wedding, and the day was bright and clear. I was sleepy from fatigue and stuffed with too much cake, but when I heard a clear, haunting voice singing, I woke up.

She was onstage, singing. My summer girl was wearing a pale yellow one-shouldered dress that reached above her knees, belted with a golden satin ribbon. She was barefoot, but there was a halo of tiny white daisies askew on her head.

She was looking straight at me as she sang, and I felt my heart stop.

 

Summer

I looked for her for months, and I almost gave up on ever finding her. But this particular day, I felt the pull of the sea and made my way to the beach. I knew in my heart that I would find her there.

She was waiting for me on the boardwalk, holding two cones of bubblegum ice cream and trying to keep her hair from flying into her eyes. She had a trembling smile, as if she, too, was nervous about what was about to happen.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said shyly, handing me my ice cream.

I ignored it and swept her into my arms. We kissed. When stopped to breathe, she giggled, and I kissed her again. We spent the day sitting on the pier, dangling our legs into the cold water and talking until the sun came down.

My summer girl fell asleep sometime before nightfall, and I carried her on my back as I weaved my way past the summer tourists on the boardwalk. Her arms were wrapped around my neck, her cheek warm on my shoulder.

She stirred sleepily and kissed me behind the ear. "You took so long to find me," she whispered.

I smiled.

I felt like I was the luckiest boy in the world, and I knew that it was going to be a perfect summer.


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