Our Summer Love

The 1st Day of Summer

The scent of honeysuckle, thick and sweet, wafted through my open window as the sun climbed higher in the sky, painting my bedroom walls in a warm yellow glow. June 21st, 2008. The first day of summer. A Saturday. The perfect day for anything, really. My alarm clock buzzed, but I ignored it, burying my face deeper into my floral-patterned pillow. Summertime always held a certain lazy magic that made even getting out of bed a chore.

Finally, the pull of the day’s possibilities was too strong to resist. I dragged myself out of bed, my bare feet landing on the cool wooden floor. The bathroom mirror reflected a sleepy, but undeniably happy girl with a messy bun and eyes sparkling with anticipation. I brushed my teeth, humming along to the radio, and changed into my favorite sundress, a vibrant yellow that matched the sunbeams dancing across my bedroom.

A plate of pancakes fueled my morning, and the familiar comfort of my hometown street beckoned me outside. My bike, a vintage beauty with a chipped paint job, was waiting for me, its handlebars adorned with a bunch of sunflowers, my favorite. The air vibrated with the sound of birdsong and the distant hum of traffic. I greeted Mrs. Aquino, my neighbor, with a wave, and felt the warmth of the sun on my skin as I pedaled towards the library.

The library, my haven, stood at the end of the street, a brick building with ivy creeping up the walls. I loved the quiet hum of the library, the scent of old paper, and the endless rows of books, each one a world waiting to be explored.

I headed straight to the fiction section, my favorite place. My fingers skimmed the spines, searching for a book that called to me. I felt a thrill when I found a worn copy of 'Summer Romance,' a book I'd been wanting to read forever. But it was on a high shelf, far out of reach for my five-foot-two frame.

Suddenly, a hand appeared beside me, reaching for the book. A boy with brown hair, which fell in a soft curtain over his forehead, and kind brown eyes was looking at me, a faint smile playing on his lips. My heart skipped a beat. He was tall, and his skin had the same warm tan as the earth after a summer rain.

'Do you want to get this book?' he asked, his voice smooth and deep like the sound of rain on a windowpane.

'Yeah, thank you,' I stammered, completely captivated by his presence.

He handed me the book, our fingers brushing for a split second, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. I felt a strange, inexplicable connection to this boy, a feeling I’d never experienced before.

'I have to go now,' he said, his voice a soft murmur.

My breath hitched. 'Okay,' I whispered, feeling a pang of disappointment.

He gave me one last smile before turning and disappearing into the shelves. I stood there, mesmerized, the book still in my hand. This boy, this stranger who had helped me, had stolen my breath, my attention, my heart.

I stood there for a long moment, lost in the warmth of his smile, the memory of his touch. I knew, with a certainty that surprised even me, that I had to see him again. I had to know his name, to learn everything about him. And I knew, with the same certainty, that this wasn't just a summer fling. This was something more, something special, something that had the potential to change everything.

The pages blurred before me, the words of the summer romance novel dissolving into a jumble of meaningless syllables. My mind was elsewhere, flitting like a hummingbird around the image of him – the boy with the kind eyes and the strong arms who had helped me reach that impossibly high shelf in the library. He'd grinned at my awkward scramble, and I'd felt a spark ignite in my chest.

I'd been smitten ever since.

He'd simply been a friendly face, a stranger who'd lent a hand, yet his presence lingered in my thoughts like a melody on repeat. He was nothing like the charming heroes in my books – no brooding intensity, no sparkling wit. Yet, something about him, the way he held the book, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, had captured my heart.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. 'Why do I still find him attractive, gosh?' I muttered to myself, feeling the blush creeping up my neck. It was ridiculous, this sudden, inexplicable crush. But I couldn't help it. He was like a summer breeze, cool and refreshing, and I was hopelessly caught in its gentle embrace...

1 week later...

In Campus...

The humid air of July hung heavy in the classroom, a stark contrast to the crisp mountain air I’d breathed just a week ago. My best friend, Hana, was already perched on her seat, her vibrant energy buzzing around her like a hummingbird.

“Hey, Sol!” she grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Ready for another round of brain torture?”

I groaned, dramatically flinging my backpack onto the desk. “Ugh, you know it! How was your summer? I swear, you were gone for a week!”

“Totally!” Hana exclaimed, her voice overflowing with enthusiasm. “My whole family went to Cebu for a week. We even went snorkeling! It was amazing! And you?”

“Oh, we did a family vacation to the mountains and beaches,” I said. “It was amazing, too! I spent a lot of time painting and reading, and I even finished that book you recommended.”

As I mentioned the book, my eyes caught sight of a familiar figure walking into the classroom. He was tall and lean, with brown hair, which fell in a soft curtain over his forehead. My heart skipped a beat. It was him, the transfer student from the first day of summer. The one who had helped me grab my book from the library, his kind eyes sparking with a mischievous glint.

“Sol, look!” Hana whispered, nudging my arm.

I didn't need to be told. My gaze was already locked on him, tracing the outline of his jawline, the curve of his smile.

“He’s so handsome,” Hana sighed, her voice laced with a dreamy tone.

A wave of warmth flooded my cheeks. It was him! The boy who had captured my attention that first day. The boy who had made me feel butterflies in my stomach with just a few words.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class. I felt a flutter of nervousness as Ms. Reyes, our kind and humorous history teacher, announced the arrival of the new student.

“Good morning, class!” she beamed. “It’s good to have you all back. We have a new student joining us today. Please welcome Kevin Garces.”

All eyes turned to the front of the class, including mine. Kevin walked to the front, his confidence radiating in the quiet classroom.

'Hi everyone, I'm Kevin Garces. I just transferred here from another school. I'm 16 years old, I love music, I play the guitar and piano, and I also play soccer,” he said, his voice warm and engaging. “I'm really excited to be here and make new friends.”

His words were simple, yet they held a sincerity that touched me. He was everything I had imagined - kind, genuine, and undeniably attractive.

The class erupted in a flurry of compliments.

'He's so cute!'

'He's so handsome!'

'He seems really nice.'

'Wow, you play the guitar and piano? That's awesome!'

As I listened to the girls swoon over him, a wave of both excitement and nervousness washed over me. He was everything I had imagined him to be, and more. My heart thumped in my chest, a melody playing just for him.

But amidst the excitement, a tiny part of me couldn't help but wonder, was this just a fleeting crush, an infatuation built on a single encounter and a few shared smiles? Or was this the start of something real, something that could blossom into something more?

This wasn't just a story about a girl and a boy. This was a story about a chance encounter, a spark igniting in a crowded classroom, and a journey filled with the uncertainty and excitement of a new beginning. And as Kevin took his seat a few rows ahead, I couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of our story.

To be continued...