i am a hand

a gut

a mind

that can no longer contain

the genesis inside of me

there are days

my creativity rings dry as a bone

but when it comes

it comes hard

& will not stop until

i let go

it brings darkness

it prevails light

it tells me i am a writer, sometimes

& a constant devourer of art

it is as much of a necessity

as water or sleep

it is the sweetest lover

& sharpest blade

it is a part of me that will bring madness

if it doesn’t

or

if it ever

leaves.

The only boy that matters is the one that moves mountains for you. The only teachers that matter are the ones that allow you to write in pen. The only tests that matter are the ones given by God. The only pain that matters is the one that leaves you exceedingly stronger. The only smiles that matter are the ones that give you your own. The only car that matters is the one you receive your first kiss in. The only friend that matters is the one who shares their chocolate milk with you. The only job that matters is the one you enjoy waking up for. The only choice that matters is the one that pushes you forward. The only moments that matter are the ones that make your fingertips warm. The only aspect of life that truly matters is that you are intimidatingly happy, from the purest part of your gentle heart.

 I lost my heart when I was eight years old. Not physically, of course. Just let me explain. It was my birthday. I was surrounded by aunts and uncles arguing over who-owed-who cigarettes, and grandparents trying their damnedest to look comfortable in a house that wasn't theirs. I loved every single person in that house. Even the ones that behaved as leeches. But they weren’t important at the moment. None of that was. And neither was I. Because the only person that was important to me being there, wasn't.

My dad was the biggest kid I ever knew.I think that's why I loved him so much. Because I didn’t see the empty promises he made, or his irregular use of pills. I just saw his smile, and all of the light it brought to the darkest rooms. Especially mine. He had this way of making you like him even when you hated him. But I didn’t hate him. Not then. Because I was still naive. I still had this never-ending hope that everyone was wrong, and he wasn’t “doing bad things,” as I’d heard the adults say. But even with my vision fogged from his mistakes, I could see that he was broken. And I wanted to fix him. I wanted to wrap my small arms around him as tightly as I could, and tell him it was all gonna be okay, and that I was gonna help him pick up the pieces. I wanted to tell him that the park would heal him. That he just had to slide down the slides, and play in the mulch, and run with me as fast as we could with the wind hitting our faces. But most importantly, he had to play on the swings. Because swings have this enchanting way of making your heart feel whole, no matter how empty it is. And I just wanted him to fly as high as I knew he could.

But I was too young to understand that life is a playground of its’ own, and that adults don't swing as high as children do because it's safer to stay closer to the ground than it is to risk falling. But I believed in him. And I believed he wouldn't fall if he just held on. So, I held on, too.

For two hours, I waited on my front porch twirling my shoelaces while my cousins played in the front yard. And I would have sat their all night, had my mom not told me it was getting late, and we couldn't hold off singing "Happy Birthday" any longer.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said. “He’s not coming.”

It was in this very moment, when my eyes rose from the shoelace in my hand to see the crisp, orange sunset kissing the edge of the earth and a heartbroken look in my mom's green eyes, was when I truly... let go.

Eight Years Later

I was more than familiar with watching a boy fall in love with me. I say that with as much modesty as I can. But it's the truth. The way their tunnel vision floods their eyes, and they see absolutely nothing… but you. I craved this look. I craved it because I didn't know how to give it. I didn't know how to fall in love with someone. I’m not saying I didn’t care about them, because I did. I just cared about me, more. I wasn’t going to let any boy hurt me. And I know deep down, they knew that. So, imagine my surprise when they still willingly gave me their hearts knowing my hands were too small to carry it. I wondered how they could ever put that type of trust in someone. That type of hope. Even when I wanted to more than anything, I just couldn’t. Not even for the good guys. Especially not for the good ones. But I never found myself in their shoes until my junior year of high school. The year I truly came to understand why they did it.

It wasn't our first official football game of the season. It was technically only a spring game. But it was always my favorite one. For those of you who are unaware, spring games are actually just “practice games,” and their purpose is pretty much to get the players hyped up for the actual season, and to tie up any loose ends before the real music starts playing. But the whole town attended them as if they were the real deal. Including myself. My all tanned up, mildly pretty, t-shirt wearing self. There wasn't much in this world that could get me as excited as a football game could.

I'd always loved the sport. Everything about it was so ruggedly inviting. The smell of a fresh cut field, or the uneasy, and yet, oddly satisfying, sound of bleachers rattling as sneakers trot up them, or the juicy taste of an overpriced concession stand hot dog. I loved every bit of it. But just a little more than everything else, I especially loved the players. I loved the sound of their cleats storming the field, watching their arms swing up to hype the crowd that came to watch them win, or the crack in their voices as they cheered on their fellow team members, or their celebration screams and chest-bumps when a play went exactly how it was supposed to. But honestly, I think I just enjoyed watching husky boys in tight pants tackle each other. And really, I was a sixteen year-old, boy-hungry, high school girl… who could blame me? But football changes people. Just like it changed me. When it made me see him.

“I can’t believe my dad tried to tell me I wasn’t coming tonight,” Marissa rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, like he can tell you what to do or something.” I was throwing sarcasm like confetti, but she wasn’t catching it.

“I know, right? Like I was gonna miss out on that!” She leaned her head forward, motioning toward Ryan Foster’s backside.

“Ha, right.”

Ryan Foster was not cute. But Marissa thought he was. And he didn’t share mutual feelings. Which made him boyfriend material in her insecure, little eyes. But I’m also pretty sure having a penis and a face made a guy boyfriend material in her eyes. That being said, he did fill out the football pants rather well. But that was the only thing he filled out.

“I can’t believe it’s only the first quarter and we already have a two-touchdown lead!” She squealed with excitement. Marissa was one of the few girls at our school that actually understood the game of football, or even just the basic concept of it. Most of the girls came to the games to wear tight shorts and flirt with guys from other schools. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just liked watching the game, and the boys from our school, more.

“I know. Our team kicks ass this year. And they look good doing it, too.” I winked at her, running my fingers through my long, blonde hair.

“You got that right!” She laughed, leaning onto the fence.

I really did like Marissa. Other than the fact her mouth usually ran a-mile-a-minute, and she was a total brat to her dad, I enjoyed her company. I liked that she laughed at my jokes, even the ones that weren’t remotely funny, and the fact she liked boys just as much as I did. I think she understood that we could use them just as much as they used us. Even if the guy she did want to use didn’t want to use her. Which I sort of didn’t understand. Because other than the fact that Ryan was a total “manwhore,” most boys usually only “like” you for one reason. And Marissa had some pretty curvy reasons. She had a clear face with beautiful, brown hair, and the eyes to match. Her chest was bigger than the rest of her body, which according to a very reliable source of mine on the football team, was a plus in Ryan’s eyes anyway, and her stomach was definitely not fat. Thicker, but so was her backside. And that’s never a bad thing. Especially not in the mind of a guy’s second head. But then again, did I really want to listen to Marissa talk about her and Ryan "using" each other?

“Haylie!” I felt a warm hand wrap around my arm. I knew it was Maddie before I turned around.

“Hey!” I smiled, pulling her in for a bear hug. Her soft black hair brushed against my cheek as she leaned in to lightly squeeze around my rib cage. I always loved Maddie’s hugs. She truly had such a genuinely loving presence. And that’s why she’d been my best friend since eighth grade, other than the fact she very much supported my corrupting of cute boys.

“Oh, are we scoping out the sexies?!” She stepped to the fence, unzipping her black jacket to reveal a plain white t-shirt with a devious smile on her face.

The “sexies” were boys we found worthy of having “eye-sex” with. Not real sex, of course. Because almost none of them were worthy of that… Almost.

“Yep,” I crossed my arms, leaning my left shoulder onto the fence.

“You guys got such a good spot, too,” Maddie said in a sly voice, lifting her eyebrows like a woman on the prowl.

“I know!” Marissa squeaked. “We got here thirty minutes early just to make sure we got this spot and, of course, to watch the guys run out to their song.”

“Thirty minutes early?! Running on “Haylie Time?!”” Maddie turned to me with a sarcastic surprised look on her face. “You were late to school twenty six times last year but got here thirty minutes early just to chase some tail?”

“And I would’ve been late twenty seven times if it weren’t for Jake picking us up at 6:30 in the morning,” I replied, jokingly insinuating I was proud of my tardiness. I wasn’t. I just didn’t particularly care like I should have. But it was true. I was late to everything. And that never changed. I was even late for my graduation ceremony years later.

“I know, and we still don’t even leave ’til 6:50.” She sighed, with a soft smile on her face. “But at least he tries.”

I snickered. “Yeah, gotta give the kid credit for trying.”

Maddie lived two houses down from mine, and ever since we’d met our friend, Jake, he’d insisted on taking us to school every morning. Well, on taking Maddie to school every morning. He had the biggest crush on her, and I was pretty much just a tag-along that Maddie insisted on, because she was a hell of a friend… and knew I wouldn’t go if she didn’t make me.

“Okay, I know this totally crosses the line,” Marissa had turned to face us, flashing her gorgeous, white teeth along the way. “But Haylie, Justin Briggs looks fine as hell in that uniform!”

I laughed. “Yeah, he always does.” I scanned him up and down as he scooped up a green water bottle to squirt onto his face. His dark, brown hair was wet and thin as he ran his fingers through it, and it exceptionally complimented his delicious, blue eyes. Not to mention that he also had one of the nicest lower bodies I’d ever seen, with a curvier butt than most dudes, and extremely toned, and always tan, calf muscles. So, let me be crystal clear when I say he definitely filled out his uniform way more than Ryan Foster did.

Justin wasn’t my boyfriend. Anymore, anyway. I always had a crush on him when we were kids. I think mostly because he was the only guy I knew who wasn’t afraid of my older step-brother. He was also the first one to grow facial hair. Which mattered to me at age thirteen for whatever reason. He was the only guy I knew who would talk to me whether my brother was around or not, and let me write my name on his wrist in permanent marker, because teenage girls do weird shit to flirt with guys, and he so sweetly understood that. He was also the only one of my brother’s friends who didn’t use girls. Which is not-so-surprisingly intensely attractive. I remembered one night when several of my brothers’ friends had stayed over, Justin stayed up to talk with me after everyone had fallen asleep. We sat in the corner of the couch, asking each other those irrelevant, “I really fucking like you” questions, such as, “ what’s your favorite color?” and “what cereal do you eat for breakfast?” And I loved it. I loved the fact he wanted to know those things about me, and the fact he looked at me like a lost puppy. Because I was pretty sure I was the only girl he’d ever taken the time to ask those questions to, and the only girl he’d ever bothered turning his charm on for. He spent the rest of that night letting me play with his hair and pretending like my fingers grazing the back of his neck didn’t immensely turn him on.

“What ever happened with you two, anyway?” Marissa snapped me out of my gaze.

“Oh,” I started. “We were just kids. I think I just expected too much out of him at such a young age.”

“So wise, young grasshopper.” Maddie teased with a cheesy grin. “Aren’t you younger than him?”

I rolled my eyes, playfully bumping my shoulder into hers.

“So, you don’t mind if I go for him?” Marissa carefully questioned.

“Ha,” I smiled. “Nope, girlfriend. That’s all you if you want him.”

“Is he a good kisser?” She immediately asked almost before I was done answering the first question.

I was Justin’s first kiss. We started dating just a few days before my brother’s birthday, which he had been planning a party for. We hadn’t kissed until that night, and the only reason we did was because Justin had some liquid courage in him that my brother and I had snuck into the basement. I didn’t drink much back then, maybe a beer or two, and more so liked to drunk people watch. Or in other words, watch teenagers do stupid shit while being intoxicated. We were sitting on my brother’s bed, which sat in the far corner of the basement, with probably ten of our actual friends and then fifty party crashers we'd never met in our lives surrounding us, just watching. And in the five or so minutes of us doing that, two guys had removed their shirts to chest bump over their winning beer pong streak, one guy had yelled at the Xbox for “shutting itself off” when the screen was still on, and one girl had pulled an entire tub of ice cream out of the refrigerator, and was eating it with her bare hands. Thinking back on it, I’m pretty sure my brother found one of her plastic, red nails in the pool of liquid ice cream the next morning. But as much trouble as we caused, and as much trash as we had to clean up, I wouldn't have changed it for anything. Because in the middle of watching the girl eat her frozen treat, I felt Justin’s warm hand gently press against my cheek as he turned me to face him, pushing his lips onto mine. I laughed years later at how much courage that kid must’ve had to build up for that. Especially since it wasn’t a good first kiss. But like I said, I wouldn't have had it any other way. He was so nervous that he leaned in too far, grazing my teeth with his. I pulled away, giggling. I remember thinking how absolutely adorable it was. Here he was, when I was already his, still so nervous to impress me.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his face a light shade of pink as he looked down at his feet.

“It’s okay,” I replied, gently taking his face into my hands. “Let me help.”

I remembered his innocent blue eyes disappearing under his eyelids as I leaned in to softly press my lips against his. I probably would have fallen in love with that kid if it weren't for famine. I was starving for endless affection, trying to fill the void with young boys' hearts.

“Yes, he is,” I answered to Marissa, pulling my lip gloss out of my pocket, setting the memory free into the wind.

She nodded, with a satisfied expression on her face.

“Holy shit…” My heart stopped. Well, if I had one, it would have.

He was fine as hell. Sandy-brown hair, with a chinstrap lined up perfectly along his jawline, sweat glistening from his face as he reached for the water bottle Justin was handing him.

“Wow…” Maddie and I seemed to be admiring the same boy. I mean, man. 

Yes, definitely a man.

“Who are you guys looking at?” Marissa stretched to her tip-toes, leaning over the fence to pinpoint the mystery guy.

“Who the hell is that?” I impatiently asked, just now realizing that while I had put my lip gloss back into my cut-off shorts pocket, I had forgotten to remove my hand. Hell, staring at this kid I was gonna forget my own name. And all I could see was his damn face. But damn, what a face it was. Puckered pink lips, perfectly sized not-too-sharp nose, and a masculine chin with a small, innocent dimple directly in the middle of it. Manly, yet adorable. Like a puppy that could bench press 150 pounds.

“I can't see!” Marissa frustratedly yelped, almost falling into the mid-forties aged man in front of her, who raised a brow at her dramatic scene, but then must've known it was best just to ignore her, like Maddie and I were doing. “You guys!”

“He's right there!” Maddie finally yelled, pointing to a completely different guy. Who was also cute. But my guy was way cuter.

Your guy?

Hell yes, my guy. And no one else's. He was mine to corrupt.

“Y'all can have number twenty-four. But seventy-seven is mine.” I proclaimed, interrupting their conversation about twenty-four’s biceps.

“Wait a sec,” Maddie was now on her tip-toes, searching for my mystery guy.

“Where's seventy-seven?” She turned to face me, with her bottom lip puckered like a sad baby. “I didn't get to see him!”

I smiled, biting my lip, excited to show her.

Why are you so excited to show her someone who isn't even yours?

Oh, but he is.

I placed my hand on her shoulder, turning her towards the direction I had seen him. But when I went to point him out, he was no longer there.

“Huh…” I scanned through the numbers, unable to find seventy-seven.

“Maybe he walked down further,” Marissa suggested, twirling her hair with her fingers.

“Well, let’s go check!” Maddie was ready to see him. She saw the twinkle in my eye. And no one ever makes my eyes twinkle.

“There’s no way we're gonna find another spot lined up on the fence,” I said sadly, shrugging my shoulders in disappointment.

“She's right,” Marissa claimed. “I saw no empty spots when I was pretty much giving that dad a piggyback ride.” She tilted her head in the direction of the man that she had indeed, pretty much piggyback road.

Maddie giggled. “Riss, how do you know if he's even a dad?”

Marissa flipped her hair off of her shoulder. “Because he's obviously married or he would have been begging me to continue that piggyback ride.”

Maddie and I turned to look at each other, ready to bust out laughing, and we did.

For the rest of the game, we listened to Marissa rate each one of the football players and coaches that we were able see from our spot on a scale from one to ten based on looks, on both our own team, and the opposing. She also took the time to guess what their names and relationship statuses were. Which most of them were either, “David’s,” or “Miguel’s,” and were, either “single, and dateable,” or “friend zoned for life. ” Including Coach Jerry, who was our Algebra II teacher, and happily married to his high school sweetheart. But apparently somehow ended up in the “friend zoned,” column.

But honestly, I found myself not listening a lot. I couldn't stop thinking about seventy-seven. Or that chinstrap. Or those damned lips.

“Y'all want to go to McDonalds? Get some food?” Maddie asked, as she turned to walk toward the parking lot.

“The game is already over?” I had been thinking for way longer than I thought.

“Where have you been for the last hour, hot shot? Maddie was practically doing back-flips trying to get twenty-four’s attention after his game-winning pass.” Marissa teased with a friendly grin on her face.

Maddie replied to her, probably with a sassy comment regarding Marissa's crush on Ryan. But their voices faded out as I turned to face the field, hoping I could spot seventy-seven as the players lined up to give their “good game” high fives and handshakes. But they were so far away now, and my eyesight wasn't the best, especially with a crowd of people surrounding around us.

“Haylie?” I felt Maddie’s hand on my arm. “Are you coming?”

I turned to find her and Marissa staring at me with mildly confused faces. “Coming where?” I asked.

“McDonalds’,” Maddie answered with a giggle. “Where is your head at tonight, honey?”

I smiled sheepishly, mildly embarrassed. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

She put her arm around my shoulder. “Come on, kid,” she said. “I’ll buy ya a milkshake.”

I nodded in agreement, still wearing the sheepish smile. I guess if there was anything that could make me feel better about losing a guy, it was a milkshake.

How can you lose something that was never yours?

Touche.

The walk to McDonalds’ was chillier than we anticipated. Small prickles stood up on the back of my calves as we made our way up the sidewalk, the cars next to us inching along as we passed them. Traffic was always like that after football games. But we usually walked anyway, so it never occurred to mind to us.

“How much longer ’til we get there?” Marissa asked, almost out of breath.

“Marissa,” I laughed. “We’ve only been walking for five minutes.”

We had, but it was starting to get really cold. Then again, that’s what I get for trying to show off my legs. I always thought they were one of my best features. In fact, they were usually how I drew guys in. “Oh, what gym do you go to?” they’d ask, picking their jaws up off the ground.

“Yeah,” she finally replied in between lightly gasping for air. “But this is sort of uphill.”

“That’s all Mount Washington is,” Maddie laughed. “Our town is literally just a small hill.”

It was true. It really was just a hill with way too many banks and churches, and one bowling alley that had shut down for good weeks ago. We were honestly lucky we even had a McDonalds’.

“I knew there was a reason I’m always out of breath walking around here.” Marissa complained, struggling to keep up.

Maddie and I exchanged secretive smiles, appreciating our friends “out-of-shape-ness.”

“It’s right across this street, Riss.” Maddie said, attempting to motivate her.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Marissa exclaimed as we pressed the crosswalk button, ready to sit down and sip on thick milkshakes. Or, at least I was.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find seventy-six, Haylie.” Maddie said softly, leaning her shoulder onto the street sign.

“Seventy-seven,” I corrected her with a soft smile. “And it’s fine.”

It really was. I didn’t even know the kid. Although, I would’ve liked to. Learned his name, if he wore boxers or briefs, maybe made out with him in the back of his car. Or the back of his dad’s if he didn’t have one. I was willing to go through that awkward, “can you get your tongue out of my son’s mouth” grunt if it meant I could give those lips a try.

“Wow.” Maddie nodded with an interested grin.

“What?” I asked curiously.

“He really caught your eye, huh?”

I smiled, giving her that “you know me,” nod.

A white stick figure lit up on the crosswalk sign with orange numbers counting down from thirty.

“Thank, God!” Marissa yelled, practically running across the street.

“Hey,” Maddie trotted up next to me as we entered the crosswalk. “Maybe you’ll see him in school.”

“Maybe.” But I doubted it.

By the time Maddie and I reached McDonalds’, Marissa had already walked in, used the bathroom, and got her order in.

“Damn,” I said, pulling myself up onto the orange bar stool. “You must really love cheeseburgers.”

“Nothing gets between me and a burger,” she joked, with a friendly smile.

“I understand,” I replied, giggling. “Nothing gets between me and a milkshake.”

McDonalds’ had just refurbished the inside of their store, and everything smelled new and leathery. The metal bar stools we sat at were isolated in the direct middle of the restaurant, and had orange leather cushions, with a granite island to enjoy your food at. There were leather booths next to the glass windows, with shiny orange ottomans surrounding them. It was a lot cleaner than their cheap, gum infested tables they had before.

“I feel like I’m in a family owned coffee shop,” I said, spinning my chair around to study the store.

“I know,” Maddie agreed, approaching with her coke and receipt. “And everything is so orange. You’d think they’d choose red or yellow.”

“I know, right?” Marissa joined the conversation as she sat her tray of food and sweet tea on the counter top. “But I do like it.”

“Me too,” Maddie replied.

“Me three,” I said, taking a sip of Maddie’s coke.

Marissa unwrapped her burger. But before she could take a bite, a red truck outside caught her eye. “I love that truck!” She exclaimed.

Yeah. Nothing gets between you and your burgers, Riss.

“I wonder who drives it.” Maddie sipped on her drink.

“I bet he’s hot,” Marissa claimed, finally biting into her burger.

“How do you know it’s a guy?” I asked, studying the old truck myself. It looked like a Ford Ranger, seeing as how boxy and small it was. But I wasn’t that into cars, or guys that were, either.

“Because only guys drive beat up trucks like that.” Marissa tried to convince us she knew what she was talking about as she shoved several fries into her mouth.

Boy, did this girl have an appetite.

“Yeah, I could see that being true,” Maddie pretended to agree as she stared at me, shaking her head, “no.”

“Oh, look,” I pointed toward the vehicle as it’s both, driver and passenger, doors opened. “We’re about to find out.”

The driver was the first one to emerge from the truck. He was pale, with soft blonde hair, and wore a big, gray hoodie that read, “Bullitt East Football,” across the chest. He had a thick, strong looking build, and walked like he was ready to buy the entire menu of food, twice. It was more than obvious he played football. I almost thought he was cute. Until I saw who emerged from the passenger side door.

“He's cute,” Marissa said enthusiastically about the driver.

“Yeah, he is.” Maddie agreed. “I have to pee.” She slid off of the stool, heading toward the restrooms at back of the store.

They must have not been able to see the opened door on the other side. But I could see it. And I could almost see him. If it was him. It had to be him.

It was.

There’s my seventy-seven.

He pushed open the entrance door, turning back and laughing at whatever it was his friend had said to him. But his friend wasn't important. And neither was what he said. What was important was how yummy that smile was.

Yummy?Did you just call a boy, "yummy?"

I sure as hell did. My eyes were glued. I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. But I didn't want to.

Why the hell didn't I want to?

He pushed open the second door, his laugh echoing as he entered.

Good, Lord. I mean, Bad Lord. Stop it.

His gray shorts were relaxed at the knees, but tensed as they drew closer to his thighs.

What gym do you go to?

Pick your jaw up, Haylie.

The red shirt he was wearing covered the slight belly he did have, which made him that much more attractive, and tightened at his broad shoulders.

His biceps. Oh my gosh, his fucking biceps.

It was like I was looking through a tunnel and he was at the end of it. And all that mattered was reaching him. I couldn't stop this train, no matter how fast the tunnel walls were closing in on me.

You have tunnel vision for this goon right now?

Shut up.

I had never had tunnel vision for anyone in my life. Especially not a stranger. But he didn't feel like a stranger.

Wait. Wait a damn second.. who does this kid think he is? 

Walking in like that, stopping my heart and shit.

You don't have a heart, remember?

Oh, right.

"Haylie? You okay?" Marissa waved her hand in front of my face.

I turned towards her, as if I had been paying attention to what she was saying the whole time. I hadn't. Truth is, I wasn’t even aware she had started talking.

"But yeah, I didn't know what to say to him because it's just like, what am I supposed to say to that, ya know?" Her voice drifted off again as I looked up toward the front counter, trying to get another good look at his face. 

And by "face," you mean butt.

So?

Whatever it was Marissa had been saying must've not been important anymore because she, too, was turned toward the nice bu- I mean, face. Both of our eyes scanned him up and down.

What is he, 6'2?

He had a modest stance to himself as he scanned through the menu with his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips. God, I loved his lips.

You didn't even know his lips?

Oh, but I did.

She spun around in her chair.

"Is that seventy-seven?!" Finally, Marissa was going to have something useful to say.

"You know him?" I asked, trying to break the tunnel vision. Still couldn't.

"That's Severus Rain. He dated Claire Flayhouse, but they broke up awhile back. Always thought he was too cute for her."

I snickered. Claire Flayhouse was beautiful. But if there were someone to be too cute for her, yes, it would have been him. And that's only because that precious eye candy clearly belonged with me.

Eye candy?

What the hell else do you call a walking dessert?

Marissa continued, "I tried to talk to him once, but it didn't work out. I honestly think he thought I was someone else. He's not the brightest light bulb in the box. But then again, no guy is."

Who needs light bulbs when that smile could light up an entire stadium?

Not even realizing it, I totally disregarded the fact she had tried to get with him.

Don't worry, Riss. I'll still invite you to the wedding.

Wait, what.

I was becoming irritated with how attracted I was to him. Especially because he wasn't mine.

Watching him make his way to the drink dispenser, I slipped off the stool, pushing my boobs up hoping that would make them look a cup size bigger.

Marissa's eyes widened. "Are you gonna go talk to him?" She whispered. Well, she tried to.

I nodded, motioning towards him with my finger over my lips in a, "shhhh," position.

She flashed her big, white teeth at me with an excited smile, giving me a thumbs up, and mouthing, "good luck."

I took a deep breath.

Shit.Where'd the fucking air go?

I could feel the anxiety closing in on my chest.

Why are you so nervous?

Get it together, dammit.

I had to move fast. He wasn't gonna be there forever. But I couldn't just walk up to him. I needed an excuse. I couldn't look eager. Not only was Marissa the loudest whisperer I'd ever met, but she also had the slowest reflexes, which made it easy to steal her Sweet Tea to "refill" at the drink dispenser. Only problem was, you had to get sweet tea behind the counter.

Marissa likes Coke, right?

He was turned away, replying to his friend who was standing at the counter. "Oh, I bet you do!" He laughed.

"I bet you do."

Oh, god. Please, tell me you did not just mimic him.

He turned to face me. His eyes were blue. Ocean blue. And apparently had the power to seal my damn lips shut.

To my surprise, he smiled. "I do, what?"

I couldn't believe I'd just met the love of my life and this was the moment my brain decided to give out on me. I stood there, unable to speak. 

Breathe, Haylie.

I needed a quick recovery for my epic brain fart.

"Uhh.. have a secret. I bet you have a secret."

A secret? Seriously?

His eyebrow rose. Thankfully, not in a judgmental way. But more so as if he were amused.

YES!

"I don't have any secrets..." he sat his cup on the counter, and turned to reach over me toward the lid containers, his face inches away from mine.

Oh, god.

Keep it together, Haylie.

"Do you?" he asked innocently, his lips spreading to show the most charming, child-like grin.

Never mind. Fall apart.

"Of course," I played along, putting the lid back on Marissa's Coke in her Sweet Tea cup, and placing the straw between my teeth, indiscreetly staring up at him. "Everyone has at least one."

He slid a straw out of its packet and punched it through his plastic lid, his eyes, never looking away from me. "What is it?" He asked, still flashing that dangerous grin.

Could you please put that smile away? You're gonna get charged for assault with a deadly weapon.

"Well, if I told you it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?" I sent a smile back. An awkward, devilish one.

“A” for effort, Hayls.

But he seemed to like it. He lifted his drink to his lips. "It'd be our secret."

This kid knew what he was doing.

More light bulbs upstairs then you thought, Riss.

"Okay, but you have to pinkie promise not to tell anyone." I reached my hand out towards him, flexing my pinkie finger.

His smile was softer now as he reached towards my hand, almost as if he was pleased with where this was going.

Was he?

Wait. Where was this going?

And for the love of God, could you please stop smiling.

Wrapping his pinkie around mine, he sternly said, "I promise."

Hold on.

...Make him remember you.

"You're doing it wrong," I said sweetly, looking down at our still connected fingers. At the time, I didn't give myself enough credit for thinking off the top of my head. But all I could think about was how I never wanted to let that warm hand go.

"What do you mean?" He genuinely looked confused.

Bring him- I mean it, home, Haylie.

"You're supposed to kiss your thumb," I replied, pulling my hand up to my face, and pressing my lips to my finger.

"You are?" He asked, watching as I did it.

"Yep." I forced a smile, mildly regretting my failed attempt at flirtation.

He's never gonna go for this.

"Sev.” He turned to his friend, who was standing at the door, holding several brown paper bags along with his gray hoodie. "We have to go, dude."

That jawline is gonna be the death of me.

Severus turned back to looked down at me.

Nope, those eyes are.

His right lip drew back to reveal a sly smile as he pulled our still connected hands up to his face, kissing his thumb. His breath brushed against my skin, causing every single hair on the back of my neck to slither up.

What the hell was that? A fucking neck-hair boner?

What in the shit is a neck-hair boner?

"I expect to hear that secret some time." His smile widened as he bit his lip.

Please, bite mine.

Heading toward the exit, he turned back to flash those dangerous blue eyes once more, winking before he leaned back to open the door, and letting it close behind him.

I stood there, unable to move. Because it took seventeen damn years and making a complete ass of myself. But there it was. I found my heart.

I hope you're ready for late night White Castle runs, and singing Guns N' Roses songs at the top of our lungs. I hope you're ready for cereal for dinner, and watching Dirty Dancing three times in a row. I hope you're ready to chase each other through the kitchen, our socks sliding on the cold tile floor. I hope you're ready for board games at 2AM, and unplanned naps at 2PM. I hope you're ready for my unhealthy obsession with Elvis Presley, and driving to PetSmart just to play with puppies. I hope you're ready for Harry Potter marathons, and holding my hand while you drive. I hope you're ready for the arguments that end with us crying, and the ones that end with us laughing. I hope you're ready for the midnight "I love you's," and the midnight "scoot the fuck over's." I hope you're ready for my brown eyes, and the honey-glaze that covers them when they see you. I hope you're ready to love me like a song, and to carry me like a soul. I hope you're ready for everything in between the frail walls of my heart, and the vivid scars that reside there. I hope you're ready for my shaking voice apologizing for my mistakes, and my warm, hopeful hands clinging to your chest. I hope you're ready to forgive me, to hold me, to cherish me. I so desperately hope you're ready for our unconditionally holy, intensely passionate, infinitely child-like, crazed love, because my heart beats like a racehorse thinking of the track we're going to run.

It was the way his lips craved my body like the ocean craves the beach, and the way his fingertips gently traced the heat of my skin. It was the way he undressed me with his eyes, a devious, sparkle flashing through them with a child-like grin spreading across his face. It was the way he kissed me from across the room, and the way his hands discovered me like the first time, every time. It was the way I couldn't look away from him, or more so, the way he couldn't look away from me. It was the way his deep kiss lingered between my thighs, and the way his tongue laced with mine made my toes curl. It was the way my hands were magnets to his chest, and the way my teeth marks sank into his shoulders. It was the way his warm breath brushed against my neck, and the heat we trapped in between our bodies. It was the way he moved me. The way he carried me. The way worshiped me even though that was something he said he'd never do. But that's just what it is now... what it was.

      I never told you how fast my heart beat when you looked at me like I was your winning lottery ticket, or how my chest feverishly caved in when you gently ran your fingers through my hair, because telling you that meant breaking all of this down. Breaking down these iron walls I had worked so hard to build. But it didn’t take long for you to realize you had impossibly seeped through a crack or two, and when you did, the most terrifying thing happened… you pressed that contagious smile to my lips and told me I had your heart in the palm of my hand. And I fell for it. Your innocence. Your gentle, slow kisses. Your fingertips softly tracing down the spine of my back. Your ecstasy. Your hands... God, your hands. And your uncontrollably passionate lips pressing against my mouth. Your arguments, your laughs, your midnight "I love you's." I fell for all of it, crashing to the ground, feeling the chronic pain of every single one of my bones breaking for you. And to tell you the truth, I've been walking around for weeks... feeling like I never really got up. So, remember when I told you you weren't like the rest? I was right. You were much, much worse.