Summer Romance

It was summer — a time for sunflowers to bloom. Also a time… when the feelings started to arise from the grounds of my heart and synchronously grow together with the flowers of the season.

We were at the field just waiting for the sun to set. You didn’t want to go home and so do I.
And honestly, I loved spending time with you. I still do. We talked about anything under the sun until you brought the topic to the sunflower I was holding.

You asked me, “why do you keep on holding on to that even when it is almost withering away?”

I could have said that its the same reason why I keep on holding on you. But do I even have the right? You’re never mine. Never was and probably never will. I couldn’t say such so I told you its nothing important. You insisted to know the reason and even thought its because someone special gave it to me. I laughed.

‘Are you serious?’ I thought. I mean YOU are that special person. But of course, you don’t know that. For a second, you being jealous to someone that could be nonexistent crossed my mind. I told you I picked the flower somewhere while I was on my way to you. You didn’t say anything more and instead, grab the flower from my hand.

“Wanna know if you’ll graduate on time?” You said while flashing a nonchalant smile. Ohh, you changed the topic, huh?

I said, “sure, why not?”

You started picking each petal while imitating the he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not game.

“On time”
“On time not”
“On time”
“On time not”

You were about to reach the end of the game when I counted the petals and I’m pretty sure the last petal will end up as “On time not.” I don’t want that. I tried to snatch it from your hand but your reflexes were just too fast. You have already held the flower up in the air before I knew it. I tried to reach it but all effort turned into waste. Actually, it was really unfair of you to do that. Taking advantage of my height is purely evil! However, it is these kinds of moments when I feel the happiest because these are the moments I can be childish with you. When you picked the last petal and uttered “on time not,” I acted like I was sulking. You just laughed at me because you know I was just pretending. I snatched the flower from your hand and kept on acting.

You continued to talk of many things after like how you had your fans club in your school before, how you end up screwing your guitar performance or how you joined and take part in the student council election in your school. You never said you were popular but I assumed so. You are great. You are awesome.You have done many things I never got the chance to do. In short, you are too good for me.

I had been contemplating all these thoughts when again, you took the flower.

“Let’s make this into a ring?” You asked.

I think I didn’t reply to that or maybe I okayed. Everything was a blur. I was too overwhelmed by your question to the point that I already found myself imagining the possible related reasons why you are asking me that. Reasons like… do you like me? I mean, dude, it was a ring you’re giving me. A perishable ring is still a ring, right?

You held my hand close to you so that you could tie the stalk on my ring finger. Your attention was on the flower while mine was yours. Somehow, while I was looking at you, I felt my face blushing. Thankfully you were not looking because I was so sure I looked like a living tomato that time.

After you finish, I held my hand with the ring up in the air and admiringly look at how perfect it is. And as the sunlight passed in between my fingers, I silently hope this to be the start of something beautiful.