AN: Drabble. Just trying to write more.
The first time I watched her cry was a week before break.
When I found her sitting alone an empty locker room, her rose-rimmed eyes staring at the lockers in front of her, my first thought was to approach her. We weren't friends, but I hoped that she would let me comfort her. The longer I sat there, studying her tear-streaked face, trying to come up with a way to approach her, the more distant the thought of interrupting her became.
It wasn't because I was intimated by her like most girls were. My friendship with Spencer had prepared me for...headstrong women. Instead, I was being selfish. I felt like I was seeing this secret side of Paige, a side that no one in the world knew about. Except me. That first day I watched her because I had never seen her look so beautiful and I was worried that, if she knew she had been found out, that I might never see her like that again.
As a gentle stream of tears continued to roll down her cheeks, I continued to gaze at her like she was my private masterpiece. I was captivated by the glistening line tracing it's way over her high cheekbones and down to her sculptured jaw. That was my favorite part. when the light hit the tense line of her jaw. The tears there were spontaneous, some would fall in perfect drops down to her shirt, joining the tears before it in a little wet spot. Other tears would follow the curve of her jaw down to her neck, before quivering some when the tear reached her thumping pulse point. I wanted to see the tiny ripples in each tear. Keep my face so close that I couldn't miss a thing.
I thought I only watched for a minute, but, honestly, it could have been an hour. I couldn't keep track of such inconsequential things like time. In reality, I would have stood until her eyes were out of tears. She had enough before I did and wiped her eyes with the tear-stained collar of her shirt. That was my cue to go. I slipped out of the locker room leaving her alone again.
In my own way, I hoped that eventually I could help her. For now, I was just wanting to give her that space she needed to work through whatever was affecting her. That's what I told myself at least, but what kind of person enjoys watching other people cry. I think those kind of people are called sociopaths. It wasn't people, though, it was Paige. It was her vulnerability, her without her guard up that was drawing me to these times. I would have to say whatever to justify my actions, because I couldn't see myself not being drawn to this side of her.
Today, her head was down and the soft tears took a new path. They'd roll down to the tip of her button nose and linger a bit before falling away into her lap. Sometimes, if a tear was heavy enough on it's own it was slip down to her lips and get trapped between the two. She would lick those ones away. Her pink tongue darting out to capture the salty drop. Those ones made my stomach flutter, which, I thought, wasn't fair to Paige, for my body to react to her sadness like it did, but it does. My body always reacted, tears or not.
She sniffled a little and finally lifted her puffy eyes up to the ceiling. Then she nodded like she's found her answer. I'm ashamed that I kind of panic in that moment. I was worried that this will be the last time I see something so beautiful. I should have taken a picture.
By the time she reaches for the collar of her t-shirt I have already walked away. She's beautiful, I'm selfish, and I never want us to change.
It was raining by the time I got home that night. Perfect for remembering Paige's face. A sky full of tears catching the street lights.
I was staring at the drops on my window, comparing them to Paige, the rain lack her depth, but it was close enough. It helped me to picture Paige clearly in my mind.
"Emily, you have a visitor."
I didn't even hear the doorbell, but I could hear the footsteps now.
"The rain only makes it worse."
I looked at Paige standing in the doorway of my bedroom. Her shaking body was soaked.
"Makes what worse?" I walked over to the basket of fresh laundry and started digging through, looking for a towel to dry her off a little.
"I feel like it's okay to cry then. That the rain will hide the evidence that I don't have all of my shit together." She tugged her jacket and held it tightly in her hands. She looked so small and unsure of herself that I wanted to pull her into me. She was shivering and I couldn't tell if she was cold or if something else was making her shake. "My father expects so much from me. I have to shoulder my life and the life he never had. And sometimes, the weight is just crushing."
I gave her a towel and took her jacket, hanging on the hook in my bathroom.
Being wrapped in a towel help with her shivering a little, but she still trembled as she looked at the swim team picture on my dresser. "I know that you're there with me..in the locker room."
I opened my mouth to deny what she said, so sure that I had been careful, but she continued before I could say anything.
"It's not like your presence is something I could miss."
I felt my heart jump at little as soon as I realized what she said. I just hoped she was saying what I wished she was saying.
She stepped further into the room and pulled her towel even tighter. "Why don't you talk to me?"
I shrugged. Telling her that I'm captivated by her in those moments seemed out of the question. "I figured you needed your space."
"Then why stay?" She sat down on the bench in front of my window and watched the rain like I had been doing.
Standing in the middle of the room, having to explain myself, I felt like this was an interrogation. It very well could have been. I did something wrong, intruding on Paige's private moments. Just a trespasser in her life. "I don't exactly have a good reason." I moved to sit down next to her, taking the pressure off of me. I owed her honesty, at least. "I've never seen you like that before it was...beautiful I guess. You are beautiful."
"Just when I'm crying?"
I shook my head and stared down at my palms. "No, I just never realized there was more to you than competition before."
She laughed, a throaty wet chuckle. "You mean you never realized there was more to me than my father's plans before." She was quiet then, lost in her thoughts. "There is more, you know. So much more. I might be his daughter, but I'm not his trophy." She sighed then and curved her spine in defeat. "There isn't much I can do to change his mind, though. Everything is always, 'do better, win, Stanford, championships,' with him. My feelings don't matter to him at all. He's just selfish."
My head snapped up just as she said the last words with a broken voice, because I had been selfish with her too. I saw the first tear slip over her cheek and down to her jaw. My old favorite. She was beautiful, her tears were beautiful, but the cause was ugly. I never wanted to see those tears mare her lovely face again if I could help it.
When I reached for her, I sort of expected her to move away, instead she leaned further into me, pressing her wet cheek into the palm of my hand. I kissed her face then, erasing the salty trail of tears and once I was sure they were all gone, I kissed her pillowy lips. It was then that I realized she was at her most stunning when she smiled.
"You are really good at cheering me up."
"Had I known that you would let me kiss you, I would have done it weeks ago."