First Crush

It was my dark hair collecting heat. You know the way the pavement blurs in the afternoon? It was all so dizzying, our bikes whirring, whooshing, wrapped up together in the breeze. We took a trip to the cul-de-sac, haven of honeysuckles, to find some shade. It was the butter petals twirling, her forefinger and thumb, noses tickling, beads of nectar on our tongues. Have you ever seen something so beautiful and thought maybe God does love me after all? I mean she — well, I’m sure you know how it goes: how sweetness draws you in, how you press close when you get the chance, how hair gets tangled in the briars of summer’s halo.