“A Day That Didn’t Hurt”

You hadn’t planned it. Not the day off. Not the weather. Not the way Kevin looked at you that morning like he’d already decided—you’re not going to school today.

So you didn’t.

You climbed into his car, oversized hoodie and a half-smoked blunt tucked in your sleeve, and he just said, “I packed snacks.”

He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh.

You didn’t ask where you were going. You just let the silence fill the space between songs, watching trees blur past the window while he hummed under his breath.

He pulled off the highway an hour later. A lake. Secluded. Quiet.

No people.

No teachers.

No screaming.

No expectations.

Just sun on water, wind on your skin, and Kevin—wearing that hoodie you always stole and a smile that felt like safety.

You laid the blanket out together, laughing when it nearly flew away. Then you just… existed. Feet in the water. Shoulders touching. He fed you strawberries from a plastic container and kissed the juice from your lips like you were something sweet and fragile.

And then, for a long time, he just held you.

“You ever wonder what it’d be like if things were different?” you whispered, fingers tracing circles on his stomach.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But I don’t think I’d change this. You and me. Even the broken parts.”

You stared at the sky, blinking hard.

The weed was still in your system, but for once, you didn’t need it to feel calm.

Later, when the sky turned gold, he leaned over you, resting his weight just enough to press your back into the blanket.

His hands slid up your sides—slow, warm, careful. Like he was asking permission with every touch

You nodded once. Whispered his name. He kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that had ever mattered.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.

It was safe.

It was you and him.

Afterward, you lay on his chest, tangled up in the blanket and his body heat.

“You know what I want?” you asked, your voice barely a breath.

“What?”

“More days like this. Days that don’t hurt.”

Kevin pulled your hand to his lips and kissed every knuckle. “Then let’s make them. One at a time.”

And that was it. No huge promises. No magic fix.

Just a boy who loved a girl enough to stay.

And a girl who finally, finally, believed maybe she was worth that kind of love.