“are simple. Just compliment them all the time and they’ll think you’re awesome.”
This, I know for a fact, is not true. Because Carter has never complimented me. And I think he’s awesome.
I’m stupid. I don’t care.
“And men,” I counter, stepping closer because when we’re at school he always shifts uncomfortably when I’m near, “are weak. Because all we have to do is pout our lips and bat our eyes and they’ll do anything we say.”
I bat my eyelashes a few times and hold my gaze steady as he tries not to change his expression. I know him so well.
“Careful, Sophie.” His voice is so low I can feel it brushing my waist. “Keep saying things like that and I’m not going to believe you’re as innocent as you look.”
He knows all about me, so his words are empty.
We stare at each other without moving. Our breaths are silent and I’m sure my heartbeat is echoing up and down the hallway. I don’t want to break our gaze, so I don’t give in. Neither does Carter, which is fine with me. I’d gladly stay locked in his gaze until I died of starvation.
See? Sicko.
These rare encounters at school, when no one is around, let us act like every other high school senior. Flirting, loitering in the hallway, breathing in each other’s pulse…just like normal teenagers.
But in real life, I never feel like a teenager, which is why I wish moments like these would never end.
A defeated sigh tumbles down the hallway in our direction. “Can’t you kids get to class on time like all the other students?” It’s our principal, Mr. Westley. He sounds weary, but we know he’s not mad. He’s all talk.
“No.” We both say at the same time as we turn our attention to him. We don’t look at one another. Saying things at the same time is nothing new to us.
Mr. Westley sighs and shakes his head. “Right. Okay, then. Get to class.”
He walks away without looking back to make sure we’re headed to class. But our moment is over, so we’re parting.
“See you later?” Carter asks.
It’s the hitch in his voice, the hopefulness I hear, that breaks my heart and completes me at the same time.
I wink, because it’s not weird for me to wink at him. “Of course.” I say. Because I’m a sure thing.
We’ve never had sex. Or made out. Or even kissed.
But when it comes to me being there for him and blindly holding my heart out to him, then I’m a sure thing.
And he knows it.
And he’s careful with it.
And that’s why Carter Jax is my best friend.
CARTER
Sophie and I don’t walk home from school together. We never have. But we live next door to one another on Penrose Street.
Right next door.
Sophie usually walks twenty feet ahead of me on our way home. I’m used to this and it feels comfortable. On days when Sophie stays home sick or…whatever, it feels wrong. I walk home alone and I can never seem to get there fast enough.
Today she’s here, though, walking in front of me. Not acknowledging me, which is our unspoken understanding. We act like we don’t know each other around our friends.
It keeps things simple. It keeps reality out.
I shove my hands in my pockets; my eyes falling on the familiar cracks in the sidewalk beneath me. The wind carries scents of the neighborhood up to my nose as I walk. Dirt…rubber…grass…even a little garbage, meet my nostrils, reminding me of home.
We don’t live in the nicest part of town, but it could be worse.
The houses are small and crooked, but the trees are large and stand up tall. Large oaks stretch their canopies over the leaky roofs and peeling paint of the homes below, keeping the secrets in and the sunlight out.
Not that sunlight would help any.
I bring my head up and survey the street. A long time ago the neighborhood was probably pretty nice…back before the pavement cracked and lifted, and the streetlights hung at dangerous angles. I’m sure there was a time when Penrose Street was probably an ideal place to walk your dog
This, I know for a fact, is not true. Because Carter has never complimented me. And I think he’s awesome.
I’m stupid. I don’t care.
“And men,” I counter, stepping closer because when we’re at school he always shifts uncomfortably when I’m near, “are weak. Because all we have to do is pout our lips and bat our eyes and they’ll do anything we say.”
I bat my eyelashes a few times and hold my gaze steady as he tries not to change his expression. I know him so well.
“Careful, Sophie.” His voice is so low I can feel it brushing my waist. “Keep saying things like that and I’m not going to believe you’re as innocent as you look.”
He knows all about me, so his words are empty.
We stare at each other without moving. Our breaths are silent and I’m sure my heartbeat is echoing up and down the hallway. I don’t want to break our gaze, so I don’t give in. Neither does Carter, which is fine with me. I’d gladly stay locked in his gaze until I died of starvation.
See? Sicko.
These rare encounters at school, when no one is around, let us act like every other high school senior. Flirting, loitering in the hallway, breathing in each other’s pulse…just like normal teenagers.
But in real life, I never feel like a teenager, which is why I wish moments like these would never end.
A defeated sigh tumbles down the hallway in our direction. “Can’t you kids get to class on time like all the other students?” It’s our principal, Mr. Westley. He sounds weary, but we know he’s not mad. He’s all talk.
“No.” We both say at the same time as we turn our attention to him. We don’t look at one another. Saying things at the same time is nothing new to us.
Mr. Westley sighs and shakes his head. “Right. Okay, then. Get to class.”
He walks away without looking back to make sure we’re headed to class. But our moment is over, so we’re parting.
“See you later?” Carter asks.
It’s the hitch in his voice, the hopefulness I hear, that breaks my heart and completes me at the same time.
I wink, because it’s not weird for me to wink at him. “Of course.” I say. Because I’m a sure thing.
We’ve never had sex. Or made out. Or even kissed.
But when it comes to me being there for him and blindly holding my heart out to him, then I’m a sure thing.
And he knows it.
And he’s careful with it.
And that’s why Carter Jax is my best friend.
CARTER
Sophie and I don’t walk home from school together. We never have. But we live next door to one another on Penrose Street.
Right next door.
Sophie usually walks twenty feet ahead of me on our way home. I’m used to this and it feels comfortable. On days when Sophie stays home sick or…whatever, it feels wrong. I walk home alone and I can never seem to get there fast enough.
Today she’s here, though, walking in front of me. Not acknowledging me, which is our unspoken understanding. We act like we don’t know each other around our friends.
It keeps things simple. It keeps reality out.
I shove my hands in my pockets; my eyes falling on the familiar cracks in the sidewalk beneath me. The wind carries scents of the neighborhood up to my nose as I walk. Dirt…rubber…grass…even a little garbage, meet my nostrils, reminding me of home.
We don’t live in the nicest part of town, but it could be worse.
The houses are small and crooked, but the trees are large and stand up tall. Large oaks stretch their canopies over the leaky roofs and peeling paint of the homes below, keeping the secrets in and the sunlight out.
Not that sunlight would help any.
I bring my head up and survey the street. A long time ago the neighborhood was probably pretty nice…back before the pavement cracked and lifted, and the streetlights hung at dangerous angles. I’m sure there was a time when Penrose Street was probably an ideal place to walk your dog
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