Avon.

The windows were steaming up, even though we weren’t doing anything but breathing and trying to read each other’s outlines in the dimly lit parking lot behind the tennis courts, where people were still playing games even though it was well past sunset. I joked about how they probably thought a little something something must be going on that they can’t see and you joked back saying maybe there should be quite convincingly, but I managed to resist and you managed to respect that and instead we spent the night making trades. Childhood memories for embarrassing moments, proud achievements for past heartache, family history for future aspirations. What makes you you, what makes me me, how one night like this can change uncertainty to I-couldn’t-be-more-sure-than-I-ever-was-before. We held each other’s stories in our hands and we made a silent agreement to never throw them away and to tuck them under our skin so they will always remain with us even long after we’re no longer an ‘us’. It was what transformed what we had to what we could be and all it took was letting a few little secrets tumble out of our mouths while sitting comfortably inside each other’s arms under a tiny roof encapsulated by the heat escaping from our bodies