He’s home for summer, and you forgot how easy he makes the air feel.

The backyard is full of people and noise. Your best friend is laughing with a group from college, but you’re nursing a lemonade by the fence when someone taps your shoulder. You turn, and it’s him. Noah.

Hair damp. Hoodie half-zipped. That same slow, thoughtful smile. The one he gave you three years ago when he taught you how to drive stick. The one you pretended not to notice. He nods toward the side gate. “Too loud?”