It was a Saturday at the end of the summer vacation and the sun seemed to give no respite. The city was emptier, slower, as if even time was too lazy to pass.

You were sitting on the old swing in the backyard of your house, bare feet touching the grass, the cell phone abandoned next to it. The world was quiet, except for the longing.

Four weeks.

Thirty-two days.

Seven hundred and sixty-eight hours.

Since Johnny Kavanagh had gone to play a season with a college team in another city. He said it was fast, that it was going to fly by. But for you, it had been an eternity.

And then, out of nowhere, a low horn. A well-known car. One more voice.

“Are you going to stay there pretending you didn’t see me or are you going to run to the hug, little witch?”

You turned your face quickly and saw it. The messy hair, the sardines more visible than ever, the long legs coming out of a sly shorts and the team shirt thrown on the shoulder.

Johnny

Before you realized it, you were already running. He didn’t even bother to put on something - it was just grass, heart and urgency. He opened his arms with a wide smile and when you jumped on his lap, everything made sense again.

“For God’s sake, I thought I was going to go crazy without you,” he murmured against your neck, squeezing you hard.

You laughed, but the voice came out stunned. “You’re more handsome. Is this allowed?”

“Oh, it’s the sun.” he blinked. “Or is it love. Or both.”

“Idiot.”

“You idiot.” He put you on the floor just enough to kiss you, slowly, as if he were relearning every little bit of you. Then he leaned his forehead against yours.

“First stop in the city: you. Monday: you again. Third: your bed, my old T-shirt and a bad movie that we won’t watch until the end.”

You smiled against his chest. “Are you saying you canceled all the plans just to see me?”

“I didn’t cancel.” He looked at you with that mischievous glow in his eyes. “I’ve never done others. You’ve always been the only one.”

He pulled you by the hand, his fingers intertwined as if they had never let go. And that summer afternoon, while the world continued slowly, all that mattered was this: he was back. And it was only yours.