She insists that ten weeks isn't that long, not really. They have FaceTime and Skype and instant messenger. He's always on his phone anyways, so what difference does it make? Besides, they've spent summers apart before.

Jeff's not so convinced. Never has he bore his heart to someone so openly, and now he doesn't know what to do. They have a week together, which doesn't seem long enough, and he's determined to not rush her in to anything. They kiss and talk and curl up on his sofa until she falls asleep against his chest and he's left wondering how he ever lived without this. His understanding of what it means to be intimate with someone- previously confined to a falling in bed with someone for a second time- has been shaken with every second he's allowed to stroke her bare arms and watch her sleep in his embrace. He's not sure how to cope with ten weeks without her- and not even a mental picture of her naked to keep him going.

But the first time she flashes up on his screen- make-up-less and dishevelled in her pyjamas- he knows that every second he gets with her is enough to get him through to the next. That he'll drink her in like water in the desert.