"He gives me butterflies, and makes me taste sunshine..."
I laughed out loud at that, running my pen over the words, crossing them out until they were illegible. Me, butterflies? Sunshine? I'd rather die now, please.
I touched the pen to my lip, chewing thoughtfully. I was running into a nasty bit of writer's block, which was rather inconvenient because this poem was due for Mrs. Kwan's class tomorrow. This strange dry spell was unusual and unfamiliar to me; I'd always had a talent with words. They were something I could always seek refuge in, no matter what I felt. There's just something about writing that draws out the ultimate truth in me, and sometimes I hate that. Especially when I'm just trying to write one stinkin' poem, and those devilish words decide to insist on writing this fluffy crap.
"His smile is like the music he plays, sweet, assuring, and comforting. It's like home in a simple glance, like a glass of water after a mile-long run. I know him better then I know myself, yet he continues to surprise me, to inspire me, to draw me in to the world; the universe, that is, Craig-"
I stop abruptly, mentally slapping myself. No way am I writing this about him ; about my best friend. I don't like him, not even close.
Right?
Right.
I sigh, looking at the words I've so far collected onto the paper. I consider laughing at myself, but that seems cruel. So I settle for a half smile, running my fingers against the dents my pen has made. I collect the words on my fingertips, in my mind. Though I want to, I can't ignore or forget the words. It's like they know me better then I know myself. Do I like Craig? Images flash through my mind, band practice, our wedding "date" (fiasco), memories of our summer together; of swimming and eating sno cones and playing at the park with Ange. I remember how it felt to talk to him, how my pulse raced when he looked intensely into my eyes. Of course I liked him. Who was I kidding, I've always known that.
The door opened, and I jump out of surprise, successfully managing to fall out of my chair. My elbow hits the ground painfully and I wince. Heavy footsteps rush over, and I feel myself being pulled up, gently, by a pair of callused hands and warm arms. I look up, mortified, into the hazel eyes of the boy I was just thinking of.
"Uh. C-Craig. Ah Rahhello." I stutter. Rahhello? Now I'm embarrassed, in pain, and to top it all off, I've lost all motor control. Swell.
"Well. I was coming here to see how far you've gotten in the assignment, but I can see you clearly have an expert grasp on the English language." He teases me with a childish grin.
"Haha." I say dryly. "Jerk."
He smirks. "And that's why you love me."
I blush at that, unable to help myself. Thankfully, he doesn't notice, so I fake a snort and roll my eyes.
"So, is this it?" He says, reaching my paper.
I panic, jumping up and swatting his hand away from it.
"Uhh. No. Definitely not. It's my um. My. It's nothing." I spit out.
"If it's nothing, then can I see it?" He asks, grinning charmingly, his hazel eyes flashing the way they do when he's determined, or happy, or laughing, or just genuinely interested in something.
"No." I say it too quickly, and his eyebrows raise.
"Nash..." his voice draws out persuasively.
"No, Craig." I say, trying to remain firm.
"Elllllliee..." He bats his eyelashes, clearly failing at "puppy dog" eyes.
"Never."
"Then you leave me with no choice." I look at him, my heart racing, puzzled. He laughs and tackles me, pushing me to the wall. His hands find my wrists, and he pulls them easily into his hands. His face is mere inches away from my face, and his lips are even closer. I swear, he's about to kiss me. My breathing stops and so does my heart. He realizes something is up, and takes advantage of my shock to grab the paper from my hand.
"AHA!" He shouts triumphantly.
"Craig!" I yell. "Please... Don't read it." My voice lowers, and his eyes change, looking serious.
That still doesn't stop him from unfolding my private, innermost feelings about him and reading them.
I collapse into my chair, afraid to look at him. I swear, we sit in the silence for hours, and I vaguely hear the flutter of a paper falling to the ground. I can't stand the silence, but I'm too afraid, so I just fidget with my bracelets. I choke back tears, taking his silence as rejection.
"See. I told you. You shouldn't have read it. Craig, it doesn't mean anything, we can just...
He clears his throat, and I look at him for the first time. His face is the softest I've ever seen it, and his eyes are glimmering faintly with an emotion I've never seen before.
"El." He says, unable to say more.
Then, being the dashing and suave prince charming I've always known him as, he walks over, leans down, and kisses me, all in one smooth motion. It's soft and gentle, yet passionate and caring and, well, pretty much the kiss you would expect from a guy who just realized his perfect and wonderful best friend loved him.
Nah, I kid, but it was pretty spectacular.
Later, we lay together on the couch, calmed by the rhythm of our shared breaths, in... out... in... Perfectly in-synch, which is pretty much how I've always felt with Craig.
"How long did you know?" He asks me, tracing my cheekbone, and I blush.
"Oh, about from the moment I met you."
He laughs a low chuckle that vibrates through my body. "Am I really that irresistible?"
"Just shut up and kiss me, Manning."
As we bathe in the afternoon sunset and steal kisses, I'm not thinking of Manny, or Ashley, or Sean. I'm only thinking one thing.
"He gives me butterflies, and makes me taste sunshine..."