Only for the Summer

AFTER THE INSANE morning we've had, I only want to climb into bed and sleep the day away. Of course, my family has other ideas. Since we're now on board with the wedding—we mean my parents—she's insisting we all get up to speed about what they want the wedding to be.

It isn't the first time my mother has planned a wedding; she's thrown a few friends and family members over the years. Owning a party-planning business only is a short leap to wedding planning after all.

Sun and Chanda have come back home with us, squishing into one car and piling into the house. My mom makes breakfast while I escape, catching some sleep. My mom wants to protest but agrees after I promise to help later. It's only after seven-thirty a.m., so I assume Char is still sleeping.

I collapse on the bed and close my eyes for only a second when I hear my name.

"Engfa?" Char whispers.

I call back a quiet reply, and she comes out of the bathroom, plops down next to me in bed, and smiles. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, pieces flying all over the place. She must have just woken up because she isn't wearing any makeup.

"How'd it go?"

"Good, but can I explain later? I'm exhausted." I yawn.

"Sure, I'll be here." She pulls a blanket over her body.

Does she mean, here? Like in my bed here? It isn't like this is unusual for us. We've spent many nights sharing a bed and sleeping at each other's apartments. But this feels different, more intimate. Before I can think about it any longer, her arm reaches out to rest with mine, and I fall into a blissful sleep.

**

"When I wake up a few hours later, Char is in the same spot I left her in. She's awake, scrolling through her phone, but her hair is done, and she has a face full of makeup. She must have gotten up at some point but came back. I don't like the way that makes me feel inside. I shouldn't be feeling like this about her. I need platonic thoughts about her.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." She smiles. Her face is inches from mine, and I suddenly feel self-conscious.

"Good morning," I mumble.

"Your parents are downstairs waiting for you. Your mom came to check on both of us a little while ago, but I told her you were still sleeping." Had she answered my door? Meaning my mom knew we were sharing a bed? I know I'm a grownup, but it makes me feel nervous.

"I figured if we shared the bed, it only helps sell the fake dating narrative," she says as if reading my mind.

"Oh, right." I nod. That must have been why she climbed into bed with me this morning. I guess my mom is too tired to fight about anything right now.

"I guess things went well since I heard your brother downstairs," she says happily.

"Yeah, my mom apologized and even offered—well insisted on helping to plan the wedding."

"That's amazing!" she exclaims.

I nod. Between the last twenty-four hours and her staying in my bed, my head is spinning. I've always been so good at compartmentalizing my feelings for her. With the way she's acting lately and the fakeness blurring the line, it isn't as easy.

"Now that you're up, I can go grab some breakfast unless you want me to wait...?"

"No, it's okay. I just need a minute, and I'll be right behind you," I assure her.