summer was our hazy, in-between time, filled with green-glass bottles and sand in the pockets of my shorts. iced tea got poured, but i never drank it, unless he poured in rum when his mom wasn’t looking. we made trays of ice cubes and sat outside sucking them, pretending it was winter. i pretended that you cared. at night, when the heat was too much, we lay with our sweaty bodies pressed together and slept with the fan on full-blast, our faces turned towards it like it was our sun. when we woke up at midnight, we would make cheesy eggs and kiss until it was time for me to leave.