I raised my hands in defence, ready to block a punch that would never be delivered. The sun that beat down mercilessly on my neck made me all too aware of the fact that I hadn’t applied sunscreen. He pulled my hands away from my guarded face and I twisted from his grip and ran away. I kicked off my shoes and let the feeling of the cushioned grass soothe my aching feet. My black shirt stuck to my body in a lovely, warm embrace and my shorts rubbed together as I ran, making no wind resistance. Women pushing babies in strollers looked at me oddly while cyclists barely gave me a second glance as they breezed by.

Suddenly, my feet weren’t on the ground anymore. Arms were around my waist tightly, spinning me in the sweaty air. My hair whipped around my face, looking like a chocolate fountain as I spun. My voice box betrayed me as I let out a screech of excitement and anticipation. He let go and sat down gracefully. He tugged on my waist and I toppled down beside him. I tried desperately to get away strands of grass tickling my bare legs. He grabbed my feet and dragged me back, grass stains inevitably on the front of my jean shorts. I made a noise half way between and laugh and a scream. He twisted me until he was leaning over me. I smiled, grass in my hair and mud on my shirt, he smirked down at me, mischief high lighting his eyes. He pressed a light kiss to my sunburnt lips.

“Gotcha.”