Item number two hundred and forty-four on the list of things I love about Aaron Jacobs: his incredible dedication to staying as close as physically possible despite the scorching heat in his room.

With his arm around me, one hand intertwined with mine, and our legs tangled together on the sheets, he's a breathing furnace—by now my curls are matted to my forehead and beads of sweat are glittering on Aaron's browbone, but neither of us feels like moving even an inch.

Earlier, when we woke up and he tugged me closer with a muffled c'mere, I wasn't sure what to do. After three days, there's still moments where we're a little awkward, touches tentative and hands clumsy from years of forcing them to stay firmly at our sides, and I'm always careful about where to touch Aaron when he's like this, wearing only a big shirt and a pair of boxers. But he just grinned when I asked him how he wanted me to lie and dragged me where he wanted me, draped over him with my face tucked against his neck.

By now it's well past noon and we haven't moved at all except to shift a little when one of our limbs starts to tingle. I could probably stay like this forever, just feeling his fingertips idly tracing shapes on my arm and trading sleepy kisses while the curtains sway lazily in the warm breeze coming in through the open window.

When we're like this, it feels like the entire world narrows down to Aaron's bed. His room has always been a safe haven; here, surrounded by all the things that make him him, each one attached to a different memory, it's easy to pretend like the summer will never end, like we don't have less than two weeks left until we're heading in opposite directions and this room will be packed up in cardboard boxes.

Lying this close to him, all I can hear are his soft breathing and the distant sound of kids playing in the street or a car driving by, never loud enough to pierce through the pleasant fog in my head.

That is, until Aaron shifts a little, his hand sliding from my arm to my shoulder and then into my hair. Gently carding his fingers through the curls, he murmurs, "Your hair's gotten so long."

"Mhm." I blow a strand out of my eyes and lift my head so I can look at him. "Abuela keeps telling me to get it cut."

Aaron smiles in a way that makes me feel even warmer and gives them a teasing tug. "I like it."

I hum again and tilt my head. Aaron's smile widens as he catches on and he leans down, lips soft and generous and sending a pleasant tingle all the way down to my toes. The fact that after all these years it's suddenly so easy, just one tiny movement to get his mouth on mine, is so novel that it draws a little gasp out of me, like my body can't believe the amount of affection it's receiving after yearning for it for so long.

Aaron chuckles quietly at the sound and leans back, his eyes a little bit more awake. Softly brushing a stray curl out of my face, he asks, "Speaking of hair... Can you give me a buzzcut?"

I blink at him, still a little bit dazed. I'm stupid. Kissing Aaron renders me fucking stupid. "Like, today?"

He grins, stretching a little. "Yeah. We're long overdue for buzzcut season."

The first time he asked me to help him, we were fifteen and Aaron still had long hair. The hairdresser had refused to cut off his gorgeous lion's mane, so Aaron showed up at my house with clippers in hand and a stubborn look that didn't leave room for arguments on his face. When she came home, mom found us crouching in the bathtub, covered in hair, a giddy smile on Aaron's face as he reverently ran his hand over the patchy buzzcut I had managed to give him.

Now that he has a deeper voice and a pronounced jawline, hairdressers don't think twice about cutting it short, but I'm still the one he comes to once every summer to give him a buzzcut when he finds that it gets too hot under all his hair.

Smiling, I bury my head against his neck again. "Yeah, okay. I can do that. We need to get up and buy clippers then though."

Aaron nods. "We'll do that."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." He tightens his arm around me and lets his eyes slip shut again, his hand still absentmindedly running through my hair. "Just a few more minutes."

+++

It's not a few more minutes but a few more hours. By the time we prop our bikes against the wall next to the grocery store, the sun is already starting its descent, the air a bit cooler than it was earlier.

Aaron and I walk through the automatic doors together, his shoulder knocking lightly against mine. I watch him from the corner of my eyes as we make our way through the chilly aisles, a grin on his face when we come to a stop in front of the shelf with clippers and razors.

"Staring," he teases without turning his head, cheeks dimpling.

I look straight ahead at the shelf again. It's hard not to stare at him now that I'm allowed to, especially when he's wearing one of the shirts I forgot at his place a few days ago, a faded blue that contrasts with his skin. Even when I don't mean to do it, my eyes always return to his face, drawn back in by the slope of his nose, the little scar right above his left eye, the curve of his lips that I've spent so much time memorizing through fleeting glances. The difference is that now I notice his eyes darting over at me as well, lingering in a way that's so heavy it feels almost like a touch in itself.

I bite back a grin, gaze still fixed on the clippers in front of me. "Staring."

Item number two hundred and forty-five: the way he chuckles when he's flustered, one hand rubbing at his neck and eyes blinking repeatedly.

"Shut up," he mumbles and grabs the cheap brand of clippers we always get.

We leave the store a few minutes later with our purchase, the dry Arizona air immediately draping over us again. However, we haven't even made it to our bikes yet when Aaron suddenly stops in his tracks.

"Hey Chloe!"

Turning my head, I spot her coming towards us, a tote bag slung over her shoulder and wearing a pair of yellow dungarees over a striped shirt. "Hi!" she says, beaming back at Aaron. Her eyes slide over to me and I half-expect the smile to vanish, but it stays firmly in place as she asks, "What are you two doing here?"

"We bought some clippers. Feli's giving me a buzzcut," Aaron says, one hand reaching out to ruffle my hair, immediately making my cheeks feel a little warmer. "What about you?"

"I'm just getting some groceries for my mom," Chloe says.

Aaron nods. "How are you? Anything new with Cassandra?"

Chloe gives a small shrug, fingers fiddling with the strap of her tote bag. "We finally met to talk yesterday. She was really sweet, but... she told me that she's definitely straight."

"I'm sorry," Aaron says. I give a small nod in agreement.

"Oh, don't be." Chloe smiles, even if it's not as bright as usual. "At least that makes it easier to leave for college in a few weeks."

"Now you'll get the full college experience," Aaron says. "I can't wait to see you pick up all the girls. They won't know what hit them."

Chloe's cheeks flush a little at that and she lets out another one of her windchime laughs, bright and airy. A few weeks ago, the sound of it and the way her and Aaron are joking around together would have made my mouth taste like acid.

Now, I don't feel jealous or angry or even a little bit scared; Aaron is still standing next to me, so close that our hands are brushing together, and whenever his eyes dart over to me, he stills for a second. Maybe Chloe is the sun, but Aaron looks at me like I'm the moon, and he's always loved the night.

Directing my eyes at Chloe again, I blurt, "I'm sorry for the thing on the bus."

Chloe blinks at me, taken aback. "Oh. It's okay, don't worry about it. I know you've been going through a lot lately."

"I was," I say, forcing myself to look at her and not the cracked asphalt. "But that isn't an excuse. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that when you were just trying to make sure I was okay. That was a shitty thing to do."

"It's okay, Felipe, really. I know you didn't mean it. I knew it that day, too."

"Would you... Do you maybe want to come over next Friday? Me and my sister are throwing a party, you know, before we leave for college and everything." I swallow. "I'd be really happy if you came."

Chloe's eyes have widened a little by now, but she quickly gives an empathic nod, making her ponytail bop up and down. "Of course! I always love a party. Maybe this time we'll even make it through it without crying and panicking."

I let out a quiet laugh, the tension finally seeping from my shoulders. From the corner of my eyes, I can see Aaron smiling, his pinkie finger intertwining with mine.

"I really have to hurry now," Chloe says, nodding at the store. "But it was so nice to see you guys! See you on Friday!"

"Bye!" Aaron calls after her. When she's disappeared through the doors, he turns to me again and gives my hand a little squeeze. "Come on, let's go home."

The word home from his mouth, along with the weight of his hand in mine, makes my chest feel so full it's almost painful. It's a new kind of ache, one without teeth and claws, something that feels tender rather than desperate. I wonder if it's ever gonna go away, but I don't think it will, not with the way Aaron looks at me as he climbs onto his bike, with the sun in his eyes and the promise of a lifetime of summers in his smile.

We make it back to his house in record time, tossing our bikes onto the front lawn before we storm through the open front door. "What are you two doing?" Aaron's mom calls out as we're racing up the stairs.

"Cutting my hair," Aaron states like it's self-evident, leaning over the banister to look down at her.

His mom only shakes her head, laughing. Directed at me, she asks, "Feli, are you staying for dinner?"

"I would lo—"

"Dude, no way," Aaron cuts me off. "Abuela said she's making albóndigas. We're having dinner at yours."

"Got it," his mom laughs and disappears into the garden.

While Aaron tugs me along by my hand, I say, "I'm beginning to think that's the only reason you're with me."

"It's about balance," he says, pulling me through the bathroom door. "I have the comfy bed with the weighted blanket and you have some Michelin level food at home. It's a win-win situation."

"Mhm," I hum. Kicking the door shut behind me, I watch as he steps out of his shoes and socks, tossing both somewhere in the corner, and climbs into the empty bathtub.

When he's done, I follow his lead, quickly toeing off my shoes before I squeeze into the space behind him. He's already unpackaged the clippers and plugged them in; there's something strangely solemn about the way he hands them to me before he turns around so that his back is facing me.

I have to grin when I catch sight of one of the photos taped to the bathroom mirror: Aaron and me sitting in the same bathtub we're in right now, our heads barely visible above the mountain of bubbles spilling over the edges, beaming at the camera with more gaps than teeth.

I run a hand over his hair and turn on the clippers. "Ready?"

"Ready," he answers over the soft whirring sound, and even though he isn't facing me, I can hear the smile in his voice.

Sliding a hand to the side of his head, I get to work.

It's always strangely meditative, both of us silent for the most part as we watch bits of hair float down, Aaron's body heat radiating through his clothes. He's sitting between my spread legs, his elbows resting on my knees, pressed up against me in the bathtub that's definitely too small for us now that we aren't tiny anymore.

I've gotten kind of good at this by now, know when to change guards to trim his hair to the right length and in which direction to shave, so it doesn't take very long until I'm done with the back and get him to face me again.

"Hey," he says with a grin when he's managed to turn around, so close I can see the brighter specks in his dark brown eyes.

"Hey," I echo and lean forward to steal a quick kiss, just because I can do that now.

Then, I get back to work, though it's difficult to focus when Aaron is only a breath away. He's studying me the entire time, a small smile on his lips, his stare intent enough to make my cheeks feel warm.

"Stop looking at me like that," I mumble. "I'm going to mess up your haircut."

Aaron only smiles even wider, one of his hands reaching out to toy with the necklace dangling from my throat. It's the cross necklace abuela gave me after my First Communion. I put it back on Monday morning when I came home from the night I spent at Aaron's and haven't taken it off since except to shower—usually, it's tucked beneath my shirt, but it must've slipped out during the bike ride.

If I could somehow telepathically send one image to my younger self it would be this; the sight of the cross glittering between Aaron's fingers while his gaze stays fixed on my face, eyes filled with something that almost looks a little bit like worship even though the setting sun illuminating him from behind agrees that he's the saint.

"There," I say, carefully setting the clippers aside, my voice hushed like a prayer. "All done."

Aaron smiles, running a hand over his buzzcut. "Thanks."

Now that I no longer have the clippers to occupy my hands with, I can't help but reach out, gently cupping his face as I press two kisses to his right cheek and then two to his left, because symmetry is important.

He breathes a quiet chuckle and tilts his head so that his lips meet mine. This time it isn't just a peck, but a kiss that's enough for my legs to feel a little bit weak even though I'm sitting, my heart pounding right where Aaron's hand is still splayed across my chest. It's so nice, Aaron sitting so close our knees are pressed together, his lips soft yet insistent, his eyelashes tickling my cheek.

I never want it to end, ever, but eventually I have to pull back for air. Leaning my forehead against his, I murmur, "I wish we didn't leave for college next week."

"Me too," he whispers, his hand sliding from my chest to my cheek, thumb gently tracing my bottom lip.

Then, he pulls me back in and kisses me again and again and again, until my head is spinning and the entire world has shrunk down to the feeling of his lips on mine; one kiss that feels like a plea, one that feels like a prayer, one that feels like a promise, until finally I don't feel like crying anymore.

After spending so much time with sadness, it feels like an old friend, always there with open arms for me to fall back into, even now that things are so much better. Melissa and I are working on making happiness my new baseline emotion. It feels possible when I'm with Aaron, especially when he ends the kiss with one to the tip of my nose that draws a breathless laugh out of me simply because how unexpected it is.

"Come on." He gets to his feet, tugging me up with him while he brushes hairs off his pants. "We still have a week left and I don't want to spend it wallowing in the bathtub. Let's abuse Elena's family discount and eat our body weight in sundaes at the ice cream shop."

Item number two hundred and forty-six: sadness might be an old companion, but Aaron has always been my favorite friend.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE FLUFF I'M SO EXCITED. I hope you guys enjoyed this as opposed to all the angst hahaha. What are your thoughts!!

I'm honestly so sad there's only one more chapter left omg, these boys own my whole entire heart by now and this has been such a self-indulgent comfort book :')

Also, I would like to go on record and state that this is the best song on the album, thank you.

See you all next week, hopefully?? If not, then definitely the week after that haha :)

Have a wonderful weekend!!

xoxo