Secret love: Nostalgic summer love
When I was 16, I had a crush on a boy who sat in front of me. Strangely, despite being desk neighbors for an entire semester, we never exchanged a single word. My crush on him was a secret even my best friend didn’t know.
Summer vacation arrived with the loud chirping of cicadas. That summer, it rained unusually often, leaving everything damp and smelling musty from the lack of sunlight.
One day, I went to the school’s reception room to pick up a letter from a classmate. On my way home, I was caught in a heavy rainstorm and had no choice but to chat with the bored receptionist about the lousy weather.
He suddenly burst in, soaking wet, wiping rain from his face, and asked the receptionist if his package had arrived. My initial ease turned into awkward discomfort. Though he never looked my way, I felt as if vines of embarrassment were wrapping around me, almost suffocating me. I regretted wearing such old-fashioned red slippers and not tying my messy hair into a ponytail.
The rain outside continued to pour, and in the less-than-20-square-meter reception room, my heart bloomed like flowers growing out of the dust.
He didn’t find his package and stood at the door, watching the rain as if ready to dash back into it. Looking at his back, my awkwardness strangely transformed into a sense of overwhelming loss. Just as this feeling started to fog my eyes, he suddenly turned and spoke to me for the first time: “Walk with me; this rain isn’t going to stop.” So, I ran out with him! The rain wasn’t cold at all, and the sky didn’t seem so gloomy. He helped me carry my shoes, and I walked barefoot through the water-logged streets.
The rain gradually subsided, leaving only a refreshing coolness. We didn’t talk much, just briefly mentioned our summer plans. He didn’t offer to walk me home, and the question I had been wanting to ask remained unsaid.
That summer felt endless and eternal in my memory. I was thrilled about the shift in our relationship. I eagerly awaited each new day, excited to see him and say hello. The longing felt like the bittersweet taste of lemongrass. No other vacation was as happy and sad as the summer of my 16th year.
Just when I started feeling restless about the long summer, he unexpectedly called. His prolonged silence on the phone was met with my excited chatter about the long, tedious days of the vacation.
He laughed and then asked why I had never spoken to him before. In my heart, I answered crisply: “Because I like you.” But I said, “Because you never spoke to me either.”
He said he had asked many classmates for my number, mentioned that he had sent me a notebook scented with green tea, and told me he had moved with his family to another big city…
He said a lot, but my hearing seemed to suddenly fail me, leaving a roaring noise in my ears.
As summer drew to a close, I received his package. A photo slipped out from the notebook, surprising me with an image of myself, resting my chin in my hand and gazing out the window. Our desks were so close in the photo.
On the back, he wrote: “Thank you for this summer, for letting us know that the person we’ve always liked just so happens to like us too.”
The leaves of the paulownia tree in the yard rustled down like an unfulfilled secret crush. In my heart, the rain surged, flooding everything. The cicadas vanished with the musty summer, the streetlights came on, the wind grew cool, the summer vacation ended, and the geese had flown south.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
