Bet you can't even name one romantic movie you like," she teased.
She felt smug when a few minutes went by and Oliver was still unable to name one romantic movie he could profess to enjoy.
The Empire Strikes Back," Oliver finally declared, tapping his horn at a Prius that wandered over the line.
The Empire Strikes Back? The Star Wars movie? That's not romantic!" Schuyler huffed, fiddling with the air conditioner controls.
Au contraire, my dear, it's very romantic. The last scene, you know, when they're about to put Han in that freezing cryogenic chamber or whatever? Remember?"
Schuyler mmm-hmmmed.
And Leia leans over the ledge and says, 'I love you.'"
That's cheesy, not romatic," Schuyler argued, although she did like that part.
Let me explain. What's romantic is what Han says back. Remember what he says to her? After she says 'I love you'?"
Schuyler grinned. Maybe Oliver had a point. "Han says, 'I know.'"
Exactly," Oliver tapped the wheel. "He doesn't have to say anything so trite as 'I love you." Because that's already understood. And that's romantic.
It’s funny how one summer can change everything. It must be something about the heat and the smell of chlorine, fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle, asphalt sizzling after late-day thunderstorms, the steam rising while everything drips around it. Something about long, lazy days and whirring air conditioners and bright plastic flip-flops from the drugstore thwacking down the street. Something about fall being so close, another year, another Christmas, another beginning. So much in one summer, stirring up like the storms that crest at the end of each day, blowing out all the heat and dirt to leave everything gasping and cool. Everyone can reach back to one summer and lay a finger to it, finding the exact point when everything changed. That summer was mine.