“I miss you every day, and every day I wish that things could be different. Why did you write that last letter, huh? What made you think that would make anything better?” she whispers then leaves the room. I ache at the thought of her leaving. I miss her too, and I want to tell her, but the rum has rendered me mute. Slowly my mind drifts into a disturbed sleep.
What a horrible night. My head hurts more than I ever thought possible; now that I think about it, so does the rest of me. I roll over and feel the tightness of my empty stomach. I need to eat. I swing my feet out of bed and realize I am still in my clothes from yesterday. I don’t even remember how I got home. I force my eyes open, trying to pull back what memory I have from last night. I wanted to talk to Allison, so I decided to walk to her house, and on the way was a liquor store . . . I bought a bottle of rum . . . Ali was on a date, so I camped out across the street . . . oh shit.
My head snaps up, and I force my eyes open. I’m in Ali’s room. Ali found me last night and took care of me. I look around the room that is decorated in mostly pinks and yellow. I am trying to reconstruct the events from last night. I hope I haven’t made things worse between us. There is a note on the pillow:
Cooper, sleep as long as you’d like. I put a fresh towel in the bathroom so you can shower. My dad is taller than you, but I found something that might fit you.
I groan in embarrassment and look at the clock. It is almost noon. I pull myself to my feet and make it to the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and turn on the hot water. The shower feels good but not good enough to make me feel better. After I towel off, I pull on Mr. Starr’s clothes—jeans are a little long and big, so is the shirt, but they will do. I find and use Ali’s toothbrush; that will be my little secret. I step back into the bedroom and inhale. It smells like Ali. I want to look and touch everything, but I hear noise downstairs. She must know I am up. Time for the walk of shame.
I make my way quietly into the kitchen. Ali has earbuds in and is humming and swaying to the music that I can’t hear. There is a pot of coffee brewing, and she is making pancakes. I lean against the counter and just watch her. It looks like it will start to rain any second, but the dim early afternoon light seems to dance off her like the summer sun. Her hips are slowly moving back and forth; her hair is hanging down to the middle of her back. She is wearing sweatpants and a tank top. She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen.
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care about how stupid and drunk I was last night. I don’t care that I told her to move on. All I care about is her, Allison. I love her and need to be close to her. I move across the cold kitchen floor and put my hand on her swaying hips. Ali jumps and lets out a little scream.
I remove the earbuds as she turns around. “It’s just me,” I say, smiling. “Who did you expect?”
Ali swallows and turns back to the stove. “I am making you pancakes,” she says evenly. I guess that is fair. My feelings have only grown stronger—I can’t expect hers to be the same especially since I told her to move on. Oh, and that stupid jerk, Jeremy. I pull my hand back, but she stops me, putting it back on her hip. “How are you feeling?” Her voice is now soothing and concerned, and it takes me a moment to answer because her skin is exposed between her pants and shirt, and I want to touch it.
“Better, thanks to you,” I say, moving so my front is almost pressing to her back. I lean in and inhale her scent. I just want to hold her tight. “If I said anything last night . .
What a horrible night. My head hurts more than I ever thought possible; now that I think about it, so does the rest of me. I roll over and feel the tightness of my empty stomach. I need to eat. I swing my feet out of bed and realize I am still in my clothes from yesterday. I don’t even remember how I got home. I force my eyes open, trying to pull back what memory I have from last night. I wanted to talk to Allison, so I decided to walk to her house, and on the way was a liquor store . . . I bought a bottle of rum . . . Ali was on a date, so I camped out across the street . . . oh shit.
My head snaps up, and I force my eyes open. I’m in Ali’s room. Ali found me last night and took care of me. I look around the room that is decorated in mostly pinks and yellow. I am trying to reconstruct the events from last night. I hope I haven’t made things worse between us. There is a note on the pillow:
Cooper, sleep as long as you’d like. I put a fresh towel in the bathroom so you can shower. My dad is taller than you, but I found something that might fit you.
I groan in embarrassment and look at the clock. It is almost noon. I pull myself to my feet and make it to the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and turn on the hot water. The shower feels good but not good enough to make me feel better. After I towel off, I pull on Mr. Starr’s clothes—jeans are a little long and big, so is the shirt, but they will do. I find and use Ali’s toothbrush; that will be my little secret. I step back into the bedroom and inhale. It smells like Ali. I want to look and touch everything, but I hear noise downstairs. She must know I am up. Time for the walk of shame.
I make my way quietly into the kitchen. Ali has earbuds in and is humming and swaying to the music that I can’t hear. There is a pot of coffee brewing, and she is making pancakes. I lean against the counter and just watch her. It looks like it will start to rain any second, but the dim early afternoon light seems to dance off her like the summer sun. Her hips are slowly moving back and forth; her hair is hanging down to the middle of her back. She is wearing sweatpants and a tank top. She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen.
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care about how stupid and drunk I was last night. I don’t care that I told her to move on. All I care about is her, Allison. I love her and need to be close to her. I move across the cold kitchen floor and put my hand on her swaying hips. Ali jumps and lets out a little scream.
I remove the earbuds as she turns around. “It’s just me,” I say, smiling. “Who did you expect?”
Ali swallows and turns back to the stove. “I am making you pancakes,” she says evenly. I guess that is fair. My feelings have only grown stronger—I can’t expect hers to be the same especially since I told her to move on. Oh, and that stupid jerk, Jeremy. I pull my hand back, but she stops me, putting it back on her hip. “How are you feeling?” Her voice is now soothing and concerned, and it takes me a moment to answer because her skin is exposed between her pants and shirt, and I want to touch it.
“Better, thanks to you,” I say, moving so my front is almost pressing to her back. I lean in and inhale her scent. I just want to hold her tight. “If I said anything last night . .
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