Page 2 of Be My Summer

Her eyes fell into the book as my journey began. She picked back up where she’d left off, concealing that beautiful face of hers again and leaving me gutted. With haste, I trekked through the grass to meet her, anxious to see those big, round eyes and full lips that were painted red.

She was something like a daydream. Something straight out of the JET magazines that were delivered to our front door because my parents had a subscription. Had her face ever graced the cover, she’d stop every person who passed the shelf she sat on. She was astonishing.

There was something so nostalgic about her presence. Something that reminded me of my mother and my stepmother and my grandmother, and my aunt. Something delicate. Something fragile.

A softness that was reserved especially for Black women. A gentleness that only a woman with melanin-infused skin had the right to possess. A kindness that radiated far beyond their vicinity. It was exactly what drew me to her, exactly what had me squatting before her, reciting the question that had been playing in my head since I made the first step in her direction.

“Has anyone told you you’re beautiful today?”

The sound of the pages of her book slamming together brought cheer to my heart. I could feel my lips aim for my ears as a smile curved them upward.

“My father,” she admitted, slightly tugging at my heartstrings.

The southern accent assured me she was from the south, possibly a Perry-bred girl. A woman I loved dearly had the same southern drawl. My smile faded slightly as I nodded.

“But, hearing it from you feels a little different,” she continued, mending the pieces of my heart she’d broken so soon.

The competition began again. My lips raced for my ears as my smile reappeared.

“Mind if I join you?”

“It seems as if you already have.”

Tilting my head, I tittered. Her observation was partially correct.

“Unfortunately, my food is all gone, my blanket is way too small for us both, and my page count for the day is almost complete. I’ll be leaving in the next fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t leave,” I blurted, unsure why I felt the overwhelming urge to maintain the connection we’d established.

Though small, it was something. And, simply by hearing the warmth that laced her voice, I knew that I wanted to enhance it. Not later, but now, rather.

“I’m Summer,” she introduced herself, extending an arm.

Her confidence was enthralling. I was completely and shamefully smitten. Every nerve in my body was in place, yet somehow still attempting to split at the sound of every syllable from her lips.

I took her hand into mine, still smiling as I responded, “Saul.”

The tingling in my face revealed details about this encounter that I wanted to keep to myself.

“Saul,” she repeated after me.

Summer and Saul. Like a fucking kid in elementary, I paired the two. The match was a hit, covering me with small, fine bumps that pained as they sprouted on my arms and back.

“I’ll be back in less than ten minutes. Be here upon my return.”

“Are you asking or are you telling me?” She asked, furrowing brows centered on her face.

“Both,” I confessed with a shrug.

The flaring of her nostrils was enough to see that she was straddling the fence.

“Please,” I encouraged.

“I imagine we’ll have to find out what I’ve decided upon your return, huh?”

Her wittiness was darling. So was the smirk on her face. So was her ability to captivate a complete stranger. So was the power she immediately dominated my morning with. Plans had changed. And, within a matter of seconds, so had I.

A yearning much more profound than anything I’d ever felt was born inside of me. A desire. A need. An aspiration. A hunger. An eagerness to share more spaces and more time with her.