Have you ever fallen in love in the summer? There’s a feeling that lingers with summer love — like when you can still see the sun’s glow dance inside your lids after you shut your eyes, or how you can still feel the ocean waves rocking your body hours later while lying in bed. Even after the fantasy peels away like the skin on our sunburnt shoulders, we feel it.
You don’t find romance in the summer, it finds you. It pretty much sets it up for you. The way you’re always half naked in a bathing suit or shorts or a summer dress, or the way your skin feels wet and sticky with sweat before you even get under the covers with a lover (or blanket of stars above). In the summer, sunblock acts as a pheromone. Its smell triggers delusions of freedom and wet make-out sessions. Everyone is drunk and happy and thirsty.
In the winter, you weave fingers and arms and legs because the truth is your apartment is old and has a shitty heating system and all you want is to go to sleep without shivering. But in the summer, the heat is your wingman. The world melts under the sun, and you both melt with it, binding bodies in bed as you drape your arm and wrap your legs, hair matted and wet. Someone inevitably whispers, “I feel comfortable with you,” before falling asleep sticky and tangled and happy.