The Summer I Learned to Breathe

three

☼ three ☼

It's a great day to be outside: the sun is out, the breeze is light, and the sky is a deep shade of cerulean blue. I'd love to be out on the lake right now, sharply turning around the light waves on my jet ski or gently swimming out to the deep section of the body of water, but I'm content with stuffing my face at a table on the patio outside Panera Bread.

Madison is seated across from me, focusing on her You-Pick-Two: she ordered a delicious panini with some sort of salad.

I, on the other hand, am not nearly as hungry as Mads; I just ate breakfast so I opted for a small bowl of macaroni and cheese. I've always had a soft spot for the cheesy pasta. At five years old, I would have loved to eat only macaroni and cheese for each meal every day of the week.

"This salad is heavenly," Madison comments, rolling her eyes lovingly and releasing a rather unattractive groan.

I raise a questioning eyebrow, noticing a dab of dressing on her face. "You got a little..." I motion to my face, and her eyes widen in horror. She frantically grasps a napkin between her fingers and rubs the substance from her skin.

"Thanks," I nod, adjust my sunglasses, and avert my attention back to my late morning snack.

"Have you heard of Dan + Shay?" she asks, starting up a new conversation.

"Yeah, why?"

She shrugs. "Just curious," she explains. "I love their album!"

I agree. We both continue shoving food into our mouths, not bothering to talk much. That's rather typical for us; we like to focus on eating and enjoy the flavors.

"He is so fine," Madison abruptly whispers.

I glance up, raising an eyebrow in question as I chew my food. She points behind me, and I have to turn in my chair to look at what she's gesturing to. My eyes land on two boys sitting at a table across the patio from us.

The one guy, who immediately catches my eye, is rising from his seat to put his plate in the return bin. I can't get a good look at him until he's done disposing his dishes and is standing beside his friend.

He's easily six inches taller than me, standing at a similar height to the boy beside him. His hands are shoved in his pockets, but occasionally he'll slip one out to run through his styled hair. I notice how his green eyes sparkle and stand out, even from a distance, and I admire his appearance.

My eyes remain glued to him.

His friend makes a comment, causing a smile to form on the adorable boy's face. It's big, contagious, and it fits him.

"Marley," Madison smacks my forearm, gaining my full attention once again.

"What?" I respond, turning back around in my seat and casually pushing a section of hair behind my ear.

She rolls her eyes, beaming, "You are so into Sam."

"Sam?"

A smirk breaks its way onto her tanned face. "You are so into him," she says.

This time, I take my turn at rolling my eyes. "I can't be into him unless I know him," I convince her. "But it would be a nice start to know his full name."

She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms in reaction to my response. "Don't be stubborn. At least admit you think he's cute!"

"What part of me is stubborn?"

"Check your birth certificate. It's your middle name," she explains, as if she were expertly talking about Newton's Second Law.

"I'll check mine as you check yours for insane," I joke.