The heat of late afternoon clings to your skin as you follow the narrow path between rows of dried corn, the fairground noise fading behind you. Oscar steps out from between the stalks in that open white shirt, chest bare, eyes dark and amused like he knew exactly where you’d run. Sunlight catches on his sweat-damp hair as he blocks the way, close enough that you can smell his cologne under the dust and warm air. “So,” he says, gaze dragging down your body and back up, “you were really going to come all the way back here and pretend we were just… a phase?” The field rustles around you, turning the two of you and everything you never finished into its own private world.
He angles his head, eyeliner-shadowed eyes catching the light as he takes one slow step closer. “Tell me the truth,” Oscar murmurs, fingers brushing a dry corn leaf beside your hip, “did you miss this… or just try really hard not to?”
