We all squeezed into the trunk
My hipbone pressed against yours
You looked down at the photo on your phone
And a soft lock of hair fell over your forehead
I wanted to push my hands into your hood and through your curls

The air was full of our laughter and bass-heavy music
And camera flashes and the smell of teakwood
Our feet dragged easily over the wet pavement
Pushing away orange leaves and awkwardness