When summer learned to breathe

CHAPTER 17: DANCING IN EMPTY STREETS

The fair was supposed to be crowded. It always was the annual summer carnival with its neon rides and sticky cotton candy, the one event every teenager in town circled on the calendar.

But the summer rain had chased everyone home early. By the time I wandered down Main Street, the sky was a velvet gray and the carnival lights blinked against puddles like jewels scattered on wet glass.

It was almost empty. Almost.

Because Adrian was there.

He stood by the Ferris wheel, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his hair damp from the drizzle. He looked out of place, like someone caught between running away and staying put.

My heart thudded traitorously. I thought about turning around. Pretending I hadn’t seen him. Pretending I hadn’t dreamed about this very scene, a hundred different ways.

But my feet betrayed me.

I walked toward him.

“You came,” he said softly when I reached him.

“I always come to the fair,” I answered, my voice sharper than I meant.

He gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Me too.”

We stood in silence, the rain pattering lightly around us, the Ferris wheel groaning as it turned empty carts through the misty air.

It should’ve been awkward. It should’ve been unbearable. But instead, something about the quiet felt fragile, sacred.

Finally, Adrian turned to me. “Do you remember last year? You wanted to ride the Ferris wheel but chickened out.”

I glared at him. “I didn’t chicken out. I just… decided the ground was safer.”

“You clung to the railing like it was a lifeline,” he teased, and for a moment, the tension cracked. A real smile tugged at my lips.

“Yeah, well,” I said, softer now. “You’re the one who bought the tickets.”

“And I’d buy them again,” he said, almost too quietly.

The music started then faint and crackly, drifting from the abandoned speakers of the carousel. A slow, old-fashioned love song that made the empty street feel like a movie set.

Before I could react, Adrian extended a hand. “Dance with me.”

I stared at him. “Here? Now? In the rain?”

He shrugged, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Why not? No one’s here to see us make fools of ourselves.”

My pulse raced. My brain screamed no. But my heart… my heart was already reaching for him.

I slipped my hand into his.

And just like that, we were moving.

It wasn’t really dancing, not at first. Just swaying in the puddles, our shoes squeaking, the rain misting our faces. But then Adrian spun me, clumsy but earnest, and I laughed, a real laugh that felt like it belonged to another girl.

The girl I used to be, before all the hurt.

The world fell away. It was just us, two stupid teenagers twirling in empty streets, daring the universe to care.

I looked up at him, rain dripping from his lashes, and for the first time in weeks, I saw it clearly, the boy who had made me believe in first love. The boy who could undo me with a smile.

My chest ached. Because I wanted to stay in that moment forever.

But I knew better.

Moments like that weren’t meant to last.

The song ended. The silence after was deafening.

Adrian’s hand lingered on mine, his thumb brushing softly against my skin.

“Summer,” he whispered. His eyes locked on mine, desperate, vulnerable. “I...”

And then, of course, the universe interrupted.

A car horn blared down the street, headlights cutting across the carnival. Someone shouted from the lot, breaking the fragile spell.

We both jumped back like guilty kids.

Adrian’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “I’ll… walk you home?” he offered.

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to let him. But the words lodged in my throat.

Instead, I shook my head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

His shoulders sagged, but he didn’t push. He just nodded, hands sinking back into his pockets.

I turned and walked away, the rain masking the tears I refused to let him see.

Behind me, I thought I heard him whisper something into the night.

But by then, I was too far gone to catch it.

That night, as I lay in bed, replaying the dance over and over, one thought haunted me:

We kept getting moments. Almost-confessions. Almost-kisses. Almosts that burned brighter than truths.

But someday, almost wouldn’t be enough.

And I was terrified of what would happen when that day finally came.