I lay my body back down, settling in next to Luke, my torso parallel with his. Our legs brush. I wait for him to pull away but he doesn’t move. So we lie there, wrapped thick in our soothing silence, as a gust of wind stirs the leaves that hang defiantly to their branches. A few break free and pinwheel to the ground to join their fallen brothers and sisters.
“I love fall,” Luke begins, spinning a freshly fallen leaf back and forth in his hand, changing its shade from bold red to light red. “But it’s sort of the Sunday night of seasons.”
“What do you mean?” I reply, furrowing my brow.
“You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach on Sunday night? When the weekend is over and you know you have to go to school the next day? That’s what fall is. As great as it is, it’s sort of tainted because you know that suckiness is right around the bend.”
“I love the way you think.” I laugh and put my hand to his chest.
“Would you rather,” Luke begins, “have a billion dollars or know all the secrets to the universe?”
“Secrets to the universe,” I answer confidently even though pretender Reagan would say money. Luke gets the truth. “What about you?”
“Same,” he says with a nod, turning his face back toward the sky. “There’s so much I want to know.”
“Like what?”
“All kinds of stuff. Like, do you think there are parallel universes?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Do you think in a parallel universe somewhere we’re having this exact conversation?”
“I don’t know. Maybe in another universe we haven’t even met.”
“Or maybe in another universe we’re not having this conversation because we already know that there are other parallel universes. Maybe in some other dimension, we’re watching this very conversation right now.” Luke turns his face to me, his dimples deep, his hair thick with leaves. He raises his eyebrows twice and asks, “Did I just blow your mind?”
“You know, Luke, for someone who has never smoked pot, you sure do ask a lot of puff, puff, give questions,” I reply with a laugh.
“I know,” he says with a shrug, the swaying trees casting shadows on his beaming face. “Don’t you like my ridiculous questions?”
“I love your ridiculous questions,” I say and throw a pile of leaves at his face. Luke closes his eyes as the reds and yellows and oranges make impact. I laugh as he shakes his face free of my leaf missile attack.
“Mac, don’t even start that game.” He smirks and throws a pile of leaves in mine, the colors flying all around me. “You know you’ll lose.”
“Oh yeah,” I reply and I push my body up. I grab an enormous pile next to me with both arms and bury his entire face. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Oh, you’re dead, Mac!” Luke’s muffled voice and laugh comes from below my pile but before he can make his next move I jump on top of him and playfully punch his side before dumping even more leaves on top of his face.
“Not so tough now, huh?” I say, tickling his sides.
“Mac, stop!” He laughs, squirming and shaking the leaves off his face. “Mac, you know I’m ticklish.”
“Of course I know you’re ticklish,” I reply, reaching for another fistful of leaves, but Luke grabs me by my wrist, pulling me off of him and rolling me onto my back.
“No, Luke,” I squeal, my eyes closed, my head shaking from side to side. He laughs and playfully pins down my other arm, the leaves crunching beneath the weight of our bodies. He throws a pile of leaves on my face. I spit and laugh and promise, “I’m gonna get you, Luke.”
“You started it,” he whispers in my ear, his warm, sweet breath lapping at my cool skin, a chill pricking every last goose bump on my body.
My eyes open and find his and suddenly, I’m no longer laughing. I’m no longer breathing. I get lost in the paleness of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the weight of his body on my own. And even before he moves his hand up my wrist to lace his fingers with mine, I know exactly how it will feel, as if it’s happened a thousand times before.
Before I can speak or think or breathe, Luke is wrapping his hand around my neck. As he pulls us closer, I feel a rush of happiness and helplessness. A surging tide of heat washes through my blood, causing whatever limbs that remained strong to go limp. And as his lips gently brush and linger on mine, the contact sparks, hot and bright. I press my lips to his teasing mouth and the world goes dark. He kisses me, softly at first, with an aching sweetness. Then his warm lips crescendo with such intensity, my hands are forced to cling to his sweater, trying to find something solid in the dizzying darkness. My heart hammers in my chest and blood rushes through my body, drowning out any sound except the beat that swishes in my ears. I dissolve into his body, wrap my arms around his neck, and press him closer. His lips taste like cinnamon and are soft and fierce all at once. His feather-light fingertips trace the back of my neck and every part of me is electric.
Our lips part and Luke rests his forehead on mine. I open my eyes to see him looking back at me. And through our blurry closeness, I see his lips rising into a smile, matching mine.
“You know how we talked about favorite moments?” Luke says, his voice soft and out of breath.