Summer. Breeze. Light and cool in the shade. The rich smell of mown grass. A rustle of leaves. My hair tickles my nose as it dances across my face in the wind. Nadia reaches over and tucks it behind my ear. It blows straight back out. She makes a face and I laugh. Her frown cracks and she chuckles with me. A rich throaty laugh. Her eyes heavily crease at the corners. She’s always been genuine with me. Especially when I try wearing my “disgustingly outdated corduroys”. I’m not even allowed to wear them around the house.
“What if people come over?” she says. Absolutely horrifying! Oh, no!
She cares about me, so I don’t mind if she cares about what people think of me. I reach up and stroke her cheek. She nuzzles into my hand and kisses it. An elderly couple walks past. The woman purses her lips and makes a noise. Nadia’s eyes dart from mine and she swats my hand away. Sunlight reflects off the moisture already covering her cheeks. I mind when she cares about what people think of us. I stare after the couple. I shake my head and stand.
“No, don’t,” Nadia says. Her voice is panicked.
I shake off her hand and march after the couple.
They turn. The woman recognises me and frowns.
“Why can’t we be in love?” I ask.
“You’re disgusting,” says the woman.
“If you think we’re disgusting, that makes you disgusting.”
She purses her lips. I turn back to Nadia.