it was just an impulse that had to be obeyed

They’d had the first few weeks of their summer vacation stolen by the weather, each of them trapped at their respective homes--or elsewhere. It makes the rest of the summer ahead feel a little more immediate, a little more like they need to spend as much time together as possible before September and the start of school and all their other obligations. Which they have, and it’s been wonderful; a little heady, even a little scandalous with the way they almost always seem to end up entwined in the back of his car or on the couch in the living room, Rosie kissed breathless and David’s hand sliding its way beneath her blouse or skirt in a way she’s ashamed to allow--but never quite wants to stop.

If there’s another reason behind the immediacy, behind the trips to the movies and the long vacant afternoons, a reason that might look a little too much like guilt if examined too closely, she doesn’t think about it. It’s better, maybe, that he still thinks those cold weeks in June were eaten up by freak snowstorms and Rosie falling ill with laryngitis, unable to call or text or come to see him. Better than the truth, one of cages and fear and fighting for her life; something she still isn’t able to understand herself, let alone explain to someone who hadn’t been there for any of it.

If she finds the words to explain it, she will. Of course she will. She just hasn’t yet.

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