Sincerely, Austin (Short Story)

Sincerely, Austin

When I opened my locker at the end of the day, an envelope fell out onto the tile floor at my feet. I bent down quickly, swiping it up. My name was scrawled across the front in cramped blocky letters. I didn't recognize the handwriting.

I looked around, searching for the answer in the crowd of my classmates. None of them paid me any attention.

I tore the envelope open and pulled out the folded sheet of notebook paper inside. It was a letter.

Two days ago, I stuffed a different letter into Austin Moore's locker. My heart pounding, palms sweaty, eyes darting around the empty hallway to make sure no one saw it. I didn't sign it, too afraid in case he didn't feel the same way, but I left enough clues that he could figure it out.

And he did.

I put the letter back into the envelope and stuffed it in my backpack. I immediately ran out to the safety and solitude of my car to read Austin's response.

We barely knew each other, so I wasn't expecting much. Maybe a polite thank you. Despite my clues, I never thought he'd realize it was me. I was the quiet guy in the back of every classroom, from kindergarten to twelfth grade, barely saying a word unless someone spoke directly to me. I only wrote him the love letter to get it off my chest, hoping it would cease the pining that had consumed me for years.

With a deep breath, I took out the envelope and removed the letter, my eyes wandering over his handwritten words.

Dear Will,

Your letter brought me to tears. I'm kinda embarrassed to admit that, but I thought you should know. I must've read it fifty times since I found it. Nobody has ever said such wonderful things about me. I didn't know anyone could even see me in that way.

And you're wrong when you say no one notices you. I do. I see you sitting in the corner, chewing on your pen caps while you doodle on your notebook, your desk, even your hands. I see you hiding behind your bangs, rarely lifting your eyes from your work. Wearing the hoodies you claimed in your letter are your security blanket.

Just because you're quiet doesn't mean you don't make an impression.

You say your heart beats faster when I walk into a room. Well, mine beats faster when I know I'll see you there.

Those times you say you've caught my eye for a moment by accident were no accident at all. I only ever looked away because you'd caught me staring.

And, yes, I remember that day on the field trip you mentioned, when the teacher made us be buddies. We held hands through the entire tour of the museum, even though no one else did. I liked you even then. I just wasn't ready to accept that I'm attracted to guys yet.

I'm sorry I wasted so much time trying to be someone I'm not, just to fit in. If I could go back to that day, I would buy you that snow globe you admired with the pyramids inside and tell you I had a crush on you. Maybe we could have hidden in that alcove under the staircase like Laurie Dwyer and Paul Sheffield and had our first kiss.

But we can't go back.

All we can do is make the best of our situation and move forward. So, if you want to move forward with me, meet me on that staircase in the museum at four o'clock today.

I'll be waiting.

Sincerely,
Austin

I didn't notice that I'd started crying until a drop hit the paper next to his signature. I wiped my face with my hoodie sleeve, wondering if I read that correctly. Did the boy I liked like me back?

I reread the words again, and came to the same conclusion: Austin Moore liked me. He could've picked anyone, and he liked me.

When I got to the end again, my heart skipped a beat, wondering the time. I checked my phone. I had thirty minutes.

With my heart threatening to burst from my chest, I got underway.

The minutes ticked by like they were moving at double time. Thirty minutes became twenty became ten. Suddenly, I was five minutes late.

Would he wait for me?

I honked my horn at the traffic. It did no good.

Ten minutes late.

Was I worth waiting for?

Twenty minutes late.

With my inability to parallel park, I drove around to find a parking lot. The only one with empty spaces required a fee. I forked over twenty bucks to the attendant and parked my car.

I raced down the sidewalk, unsure I'd even locked my car.

By the time I entered the museum, I was forty-seven minutes late.

Panting and sweaty, with my heart still racing—from adrenaline and nerves—I scanned the lobby. Some children with their parents, an elderly couple, but no Austin.

I walked down the stairs, dejected. I blew it.

I sat on the bottom step, burying my face in my hands, misery washing over me.

"Will!" said a familiar, deep voice.

Dropping my hands, I looked up. Austin's dreamy blue eyes watched me. His lips stretched into a smile.

"I thought I missed you." I said.

"Sorry. I got thirsty." He raised a bottled water.

"I can't believe you're still here."

"I would've waited all day for you." Austin offered me a bag from the gift shop. "And I bought you something."

I stood and opened the bag. My eyes went wide. "Is that—"

"They still sell them."

I looked up from the snow globe at him. "I could kiss you right now."

"Okay."

I threw my arms around Austin, pressing my lips to his. It was everything I always wished for. And now it was real.