“Do you believe in past lives?” You asked Logan one night as the two of you lay on your bed. The sticky summer air leaking in through your open window in hopes of getting relief from the heat.

He turned on his side to look at you, brushing some hair from your sweat ridden forehead “what kind of question is that?”

“Stop laughing,” you playfully smack his chest with a teddy bear that had been beside you.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be serious, I want to believe…”

“Me too— I want to believe in soulmates and past lives, all that stuff. I like the idea of being with you forever” you whisper, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He asked, running his fingers through your hair.