It was perfect.
It was sweet.
But it was dangerous. Because I spent the entire walk home thinking about it. I spent the entire time in the shower wondering when it would happen again. And then I laid in bed for what seemed like hours, imaging what it would be like to do more.
School was out Monday for President’s Day, but that didn’t mean I slept in. I woke up with a slight headache, probably from the wine the night before. I’d felt fine and sober when I went to sleep, so I didn’t understand the lingering effects. I also didn’t understand how my mom could drink more than I had, yet wake up and go to work as if it were nothing at all. Maybe time grows tolerance.
My headache didn’t keep me down, though. Soon after waking up, I received a text message. It was the first time in over two weeks that my phone had made any kind of sound other than to alert me to a low battery. Needless to say, my heart jumped in anticipation at the sound.
Good morning, beautiful. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. Have a good day and I’ll talk to you later.
I didn’t respond, only because I didn’t understand the rules. I felt foolish as I pondered my decision. I wanted to tell him good morning as well, but he ended it with talk to you later, which to me, sounded a lot like the end of a conversation. But I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it too much before closing the phone with a smile and stuffing it into the pocket of my jeans.
My mom wasn’t home when I made it downstairs, and I wondered if she had come home at all throughout the night. This would be where most kids called to make sure their parent was okay, but not me. If I called out to her, she’d accuse me of being nosy and checking up on her. I decided to make a bowl of oatmeal and enjoy the silence of the house while reminiscing about my kiss with Axel.
Those thoughts got me through the day until his call came in later that evening. Mom had ended up coming home around three and spent the rest of the afternoon and night in her room. She didn’t speak to me, and I didn’t speak to her, but I was okay with that. I didn’t want to let her ruin my mood.
“You know, you don’t have to give me compliments now. Just because we’re no longer hiding or denying our feelings for each other doesn’t mean you have to talk to me any differently,” I said after climbing in bed with the phone to my ear.
“Are you referring to the beautiful comment? Bree, you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to say that to you. But if it makes you uncomfortable, then I’ll stop.”
It was a good thing we weren’t face to face, because my cheeks flamed with shyness. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I just don’t want you thinking you had to say mushy stuff to me.”
“For the record, I don’t think that. I said it because I wanted to. Because it’s true. I’m not the kind of guy that gives a girl a compliment, looking for something in return.”
That calmed me down for whatever reason. I never thought he’d sent me that text because he felt he had to, but I guess I needed to hear him say that. I knew it would be a while before I could hear those types of sentiments without doubting their significance. I’d never heard them directed at me before. But I also didn’t want to get used to them, either, out of fear they’d all end and I’d be left with nothing but the memory of it all. It felt so good to hear affection from someone that the thought of losing it all again distressed me.
“Tell me more about your sister.” My words were an attempt to change the subject, and to learn more about his growing-up years. We had many conversations about his family, and I loved hearing his stories. To me, they sounded like fairy tales right out of a book. The thought of a family actually showing love and support was unfathomable to me.
“She’s a pain in the ass.”
I could tell from his light tone that he had a smile on his face.
“They’re so excited about the baby coming this summer. They don’t know what it is yet, and it’s driving her crazy. Tracii is a planner and has to have every I dotted and T crossed. Not knowing how to decorate the nursery or what color of clothes she should buy is sheer torture. No matter how many times I tell her not to stress about things that she can’t control, she won’t listen.”
“Are you excited to be an uncle?”
“Very! I love kids, as you can probably tell from my chosen profession.” He laughed and continued on. He spoke of how his family had reacted to his sister’s pregnancy news. His parents had been over the moon at the mere thought of being grandparents. I couldn’t begin to imagine what holidays looked like while growing up at their house.
We talked for two solid hours, and when I yawned for the fourth time in ten minutes, we decided to go to bed.
He ended up sending me another text Tuesday morning before school. The same Good morning, beautiful start, except this one said, 53 more minutes until I get to see your face. It made me blush as I finished getting ready for school.
Less than an hour later, I walked into his class. He stood at his podium as promised, except he turned his head, met my eyes, and gave me a small, ever-so slight smile. I couldn’t be mad at him since I was unable to keep my eyes and grin to myself, either. After I sat down, he caught my attention again, slyly motioning to his desk with short, abrupt nods. When I turned to see what he meant, I found my CD sitting on top of a stack of papers. I grabbed it quickly and then stuffed it into my backpack.
The rest of class was fine. He kept to his promise and acted no different than he had the past two weeks—however, he did it without the complete look of misery on his face. Of course, Jill and Rebecca noticed.
“I bet he got laid,” Jill whispered across the narrow aisle, but it was loud enough for me to hear.
“Kayla said she saw him at the grocery store yesterday with some blonde. Apparently, she was wearing a diamond ring and buying prenatal vitamins. Poor Kayla, she’s been crushing on him hard ever since the beginning of the school year. I guess he was a substitute teacher for her once last semester, and she thought she actually stood a chance with him.”
I had to roll my eyes as they gossiped back and forth. I found it funny, probably since I knew the truth. Tracii and Axel couldn’t have looked that much alike if Kayla didn’t see the resemblance. But then again, you usually only see what your mind wants you to.
Before class ended, I wrote Axel a note, folded it up, and slid it under his keyboard. I knew he wouldn’t find it until later, but I didn’t care. Once he read it, he’d know who it was from, yet at the same time, no one else would.
Good job today! You get an A. xo Wolf Eyes
I noticed a text on my phone just before lunch. It had come in earlier that day, but I didn’t check my phone often in school. I guess I still wasn’t used to having one.
Is it tomorrow morning yet? I already miss your face.
It gave me a pep in my step for the rest of the day. One day and he’d already given my confidence a jolt.
Things were great for about a week and a half, but right before the two-week mark, paranoia settled in and wouldn’t let go. I knew it was silly—Axel even told me there was nothing to worry about, that the two-week stigma was a myth, but I couldn’t seem to shake the dread. I knew I’d started to pull away some in a way to mentally prepare myself for the inevitable. It was as if I needed to brace myself for the big blow. Why did I feel it was inevitable? Because things had been good, too good, and from my experience, everything that goes up must come crashing down. I had my entire childhood as a reference.