wrapped up in you

three.

song for the chapter: Pulaski at Night by Andrew Bird

—

Summer sits behind a boy named Aaron in her Comparative English Literature class. He has thick framed glasses and shaggy hair, and his clothes never really fit him well, hanging over his lanky frame. He's sweet as honey and as refreshing as a cold glass of iced tea in the middle of July, and he goes to Summer's church every Sunday, front row with his whole family. They have been friends since before it was Christian and Summer.

"Hey Summer, do you wanna go study for Mr. Mortimer's class now? Unless you're busy, or something." he says nervously, adjusting his glasses. Summer perks up and nods happily, gathering her things from the café's wooden table.

"Yeah, that'd be great! I wasn't able to do any work last night." She says, her voice ringing clear with self disappointment.

"Party?" he asks with a scrunched nose, taking her books from her arms without asking. She doesn't think twice about the gesture because it's Aaron, and Aaron always does nice things.

"Yeah," she says with a tired sigh.

"Does that Christian guy always keep you up at night?" he asks, and although his tone was joking, there was an underlying tinge of concern in his words. She shakes her head defensively, although even she knows it's a lie. Thou shalt not lie, her father's words ring in her ears as she speaks guiltily.

"No, he was just celebrating with his fraternity." she says with a shrug.

"What were they celebrating?" he asks curiously, and she bites her lip in thought. Her lack of response seemed to be sufficient enough for Aaron, as he nods knowingly. He doesn't push the topic, he can tell that she doesn't want to.

He's good at that, reading Summer. He's always been good at that. When she was 9 and he was 10, she told him her ankle didn't hurt after she fell off a tree branch. He knew she was lying, so he ran to his parents and they took her to the hospital. She was then put in a cast for fracturing the bone. She got made fun of for the cast, and she said it didn't bother her. Again, he could see through her empty words and walked her to each of her classes and protected her from all the bullies. She did the same when he had just gotten his glasses, she was 11 and he was 12.

They push past the double doors of the campus library and pick a table in the far back, where it's the quietest. They sit opposite each other, glancing up every couple minutes to shoot each other a goofy face, and it feels like family, Summer thinks. When she's looking down, engrossed in the essay she's writing about some of George Orwell's works, she misses the look of adoration Aaron will give her. It feels like love, he thinks.