Wrong Quarterback | ✓

39 | enough

            Spring has sprung.

Sat upon her kitchen counter in her baby blue sundress, Avery lets her eyes gaze across the room. The plants on the windowsill look as if they need to be tended to, all dried up by the early March sun which illuminates the room in a soft glow. Its rays cast light upon the light speckles of dust lining the shelves along the walls and atop the bowl-shaped kitchen lamp, not to speak of the glass of the window facing their front lawn. Even though it's closed she can hear the chirps of early morning birdsong among the light rustle of the trees.

Spring semesters do always seem to go by faster than their fall counterparts, but the spring semester of her senior year sure takes the cake.

Lips twitching into a small smile, she leans her head back against the cupboard. She holds her hand out for the plate in Ethan's hand, placing it in the drying rack.

She grabs a few leftover raspberries from the bowl beside her as she waits for the next plate, wiping the juice lingering on her fingers off on her bare leg before placing that plate in the rack too.

Popping another berry into her mouth, she reaches her hand out to push Ethan's hair away from where it falls into his eyes, her smile widening as his does. She lets her hand fall to his slightly rumpled black t-shirt, brushing some imaginary dust away from its shoulder before dropping her hand into the sink, scooping up some water into her palm. Splashing it his way, she laughs and ducks as he sprawls his fingers to splash some back.

She takes the last baking bowl out of his hands as he's rinsed it, placing it on the rack along the rest before letting her lips crack into a grin. Reaching over to close the tap just as he does, she lets her fingers intertwine with his. She glances over at the rack – most things perched upon it not from their light breakfast but the ones she convinced him to leave unattended to last night post their impromptu midnight cookie making session, before lightly kicking him in the leg.

"Good job."

Letting himself be pulled closer by the tug of her hand, his fingers fall to her leg where they trace a gentle pattern on her thigh. "You too."

"We should go out for ice cream today," She says and loops her arms around his neck, her fingers sprawling through his hair.

"Yeah."

Her smile softens as he drops his face to the crook of her neck, twirling one of his short curls around her finger as she holds him close. A beat of comfortable silence, their breaths falling into sync, passes before she clears her throat to speak again.

"I have a favor to ask."

Ethan's breath is warm against her skin as he says, "Anything."

"And you can't laugh at me."

He inches back then, an upward tilt to his mouth as his eyes narrow in slight curiosity. "I'm listening."

"I need you to take your sweater back–,"

"Which one?"

She rolls her eyes – both at his question and over the fact she's made it a valid one – as her cheeks tighten with her smile. "As I was saying, you need to take your sweater back. The green one," She adds, pointedly not mentioning the capital letters they both know spell out 'Ace East' across its chest. "And then you need to wash it at yours. And then wear it for like... a week. Or something. Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing."

Her eyes narrow at his chortled words. "And then you have to give it back. Okay?"