Lying in my bed I stare at the ceiling above, remnants of my childhood still appear through the cracks on the ceiling. The stickers I had placed to cover up some of the pin holes I have made to hang CDs. Did you ever do that? It was the hip thing to do. Hang CDs from the ceiling so when the light shined on it just right, it would give the room this disco like look. I was into that. But then when I wasn’t, I noticed all the holes, so I decided to cover them with stickers. Probably not my smartest thing since I got in major trouble for it. But they were music notes. The Eighth note and sixty-fourth note mainly, because they seem to be my two favorites to look at. And now I find myself staring at them wondering where I am in life.
I wanted him to kiss me. Why did I want him to kiss me? I barely know the guy. But the five hours we spent talking and getting to know one another, he’s turning out to be quite dreamy and charming. I don’t need a man to distract me, but he’s doing just that – distracting me. And the sad part is, it’s going to happen with him just like it did with the others, he will think I’m spending more time with the music and less time with him. Even though, deep down, with his music passion equaling mine, it might not be that way, and that’s the part that scares me. Maybe we are compatible? But just because I’m crushing on him dreaming of a future with him, doesn’t mean he feels the same. Otherwise, perhaps he would’ve kissed me.
Tossing and turning, I can’t stop thinking of Elliot. His brown eyes. His soft luxuriant blonde-brown hair. His sexy smile when he smirks one corner goes up more than the other. When he smiles big, it feels like it’s going to reach his ears at any minute. His shiny white teeth. The shimmer of his brown eyes. I’ve mentioned his brown eyes, right? He kind of reminds me of Jake in my Mother’s favorite movie. 16 Candles. Once I was old enough to find out what her favorite movie was, I couldn’t stop myself from watching it, to the point it turned into my favorite movie. Elliot is my Jake. I can imagine him leaning against his red Camaro, well in Elliot’s case, white Chrysler, smiling at me, falling for me as much as I’ve fallen for him. I mean, crushing on him.
Since I can’t sleep, I decided on sneaking into the kitchen to find the cookies I initially had bought for my dad, but I’m craving chocolate something fierce. Slowly, I creep down the stairs, avoiding the one’s I know for sure creak, just to not wake my father. As I make it down the stairs, I slowly turn the corner already planning on finding the light switch, but it was too late.
There he was. Sitting at the marble kitchen bar quiet as a mouse, “You scared me half to death,” my dad startles.
“Sorry, what are you doing up so late?”
“I could ask you the same,” he pushes the box of cookies towards me.
“That’s exactly what I came down for. Couldn’t sleep,” I admit.
“Is it because of that guy?” he raises his eyebrows as to think he knows me.
“No!”
“Don’t believe you,” he drinks a glass of milk.
“How are you feeling?” My attempt of changing the subject.
“Alive,” he states the obvious, “I’m going back to work this week.”
“Are you sure? I can stay longer to help you out more dad, I don’t have to leave yet,” I start to panic he’s trying to get rid of me.
“Honey, you can stay as long as you want, but don’t forget about school and the city,” he reminds me I still have a life outside of this house.
“I know, but I worry about you. Here I’m close,” tears start to form.
“Princess, I’m not going anywhere just yet, I have to get back to work, back to doing what I always do that makes me happy, you understand that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I sigh not fully convinced he’s ready to get back to work, at a job that’s anything but nine to five, instead long hours until whatever project he’s working on is fully finished.
The next morning, I’m woken up by voices coming from downstairs. I can’t make out who they are, besides my dad’s, but I’m going to assume I might not want to walk down in just my romper. I toss my bath rope over my shoulder, put my uncombed hair up in a bun, and attempt to creep down to hear who my dad is having a conversation this early in the morning with.
“Good Morning, sunshine,” my father’s back is towards this mystery person.
“Morning dad. I need coffee. Like ASAP,” I groan as I walk past him shocked to my core when I see a certain someone sitting at our kitchen table.
“What the fuck?” I squeal.
“Well hello to you too.”