It’s just like Drew to notice I’m cold and give me his jacket without hesitation. It’s just like me not to know how to thank him.

His voice is slow and quiet over the speaker. I open my eyes, leaning against the window as I press my hand against the cool glass.

He laughs, running his fingers slowly over the keys without hitting a single note. “Every great piano has been played by amateurs. Including this one."

“What was it like?” he says, his voice so low I can barely hear it over the record playing in the corner.

“Holy crap, this is a terrible idea.”

Noah shoots me a glare, like I’ve just insulted him in the worst way possible. Never mind the fact that this was my terrible idea, and I'm the one who dragged him into it. 

We’ve been here before. I’ve heard this before. I’ve seen his green eyes dance underneath the sunset, hand in mine, worries almost - but not quite - forgotten.

Your hand's in mine and your laughter is warmer than the sunlight kissing my skin.

We used to go to an abandoned field on the other side of town, right in front of an old strip mall that hadn’t been occupied in years.

I used to rent a place in Brooklyn with a friend months before I met you.

This morning I saw four seagulls,
and they reminded me of you. 

I should have come out to help you, but for some reason I didn’t. Instead I lingered by the doorway, listening to the steady sound of your footsteps and the constant beeping of the alarms on my phone I was too lazy to turn off.

I used to have this ridiculous daydream that when I finally saw him again, my heart wouldn’t do a full somersault in my chest.