My Only by Sophia Duane

Olivia turned around as she slipped on her shoes.
    “I don’t have your cel number.”
    It thril ed me that she asked for my number in front of my brother. She held out her pen and notebook. “Write it there.” She pointed to the cover. I felt stupid the way my heart soared. She wanted my number on a very visible place on her notebook. Maybe it was ridiculous to feel special because of it, but I did.
    After writing it down, I said good night and watched her as she left. I didn’t close the door until she was safely inside the house across the street.
    When I turned around, Aaron was stil in the hal way, arms folded over his chest.
    I couldn’t tel if he was pissed. His face seemed neutral, but his eyes were dark. We stood there, facing off for almost a minute, until final y Aaron turned and retreated into the kitchen. As I contemplated the expression on his face, it dawned on me.

    For the first time in our lives, Aaron was jealous of me .

    I awoke to a nearly freezing room. The sun was already up, but when I gotout of bed, strode to the window, and pul ed up the blinds, I couldn’t see it.
    The day was gray. It seemed that an early chil had settled on northern Il inois. The change hadn’t been noticeable. Just a gentle shift from the heat of the summer to the moderately cool days of early fal .
    It was nearly October, but somehow I wasn’t ready for winter. I placed my palm against the glass. It was official y jacket weather. As I looked from the sky to the tree across the street, to Olivia’s bedroom window, I realized that I wasn’t the only one who thought it was chil y.
    Olivia stood in front of her window, pul ing a black hoodie jacket tightly around her. When she saw me, she waved.
    I waved back. She moved, and then my phone buzzed on my nightstand. I quickly retrieved the phone. It was a text message from an unknown number. Cold enough for you? What happened to summer?
    We were too far away to shout at each other, but through our phones we could talk. I texted back, Actually it could be colder & it will be in a month or so. What are you doing?
    I watched her as she read the text. A moment later, I received her message. Looking at you. What are you doing?
    I laughed and typed. Looking at you. I wished I could’ve thought of something witty to say, but the only thing I could think of sending was confirmation of our plans today. Still going?
    Her answer came a few seconds later. Of course. Noon. Put your driving shoes on. You teach me history, I teach you to drive.
    It felt strange to be excited this early in the morning. Actual y, it felt strange to feel excitement at al . I tried to think of another time when I’d felt like this, but came up empty. Needing to start the day, I waved to Olivia and received one in return.
    A bubbling sense of hope stayed with me as I went about my morning. I was ready and waiting by eleven o’clock. Ignoring Aaron as he asked incessant questions about where we were going, I kept peeking out of the front window, hoping to catch her coming out of her door. I didn’t want her to come over here. If she did, it’d give Aaron another chance to mesmerize her.
    When I grew impatient, I left the house and sat down on the porch. Final y, Olivia emerged, cal ing out, “I’l be fine!” I stood, hopped off the steps and crossed the street. I didn’t want to seem too eager, but I wasn’t sure how to play it cool. “Hey,” I said. “I like your jacket.”
    She glanced down at the black Harry Potter hoodie and shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind a bit of HP geekiness.”
    “Harry Potter’s cool,” I said as we walked to her car.
    She unlocked the passenger side door for me, but before she rounded the front of the car, she said, “And he’s hot.” What? She thought Harry Potter was hot? But he wasn’t big and buff. He wasn’t the best looking kid around. He seemed . . . average. Not bad looking, but definitely not Zac Efron.
    The door popped open. I bent down and found