Finding Melody

18: Just A Crush

Awkward, was the only word I could describe Dallas and I. We had spent all of yesterday, well I was avoiding him. I wasn't sure if he was avoiding me or I was just doing a really really good job avoiding him.

After that night he dropped me home, with a single goodbye and took off, back into the city I suppose. But he was right, about his mother. I came back and everyone was worried about me, but Paris could care less about him.  She didn't mutter a word about him, I knew the loneliness of the world before I had people that truly cared, the feeling of staying out all night and coming home to no worried parent, that's why I never challenged Nolan's overprotective force. There was a difference between trusting someone to the point of not worrying about them to not even thinking about them.

It was a lonely spot to be in, it caused you to act careless, reckless even to make someone finally see you for whatever you were.

He was still gone, as I searched through the books I had bought, he had bought for me. And I came across the book I had bought for his sister, I grabbed my pen and wrote out a note with my number attached to it. I could only imagine how lonely those hospital floors are. I had read the whole series of the book, I held in my hands you would need someone to talk through it with. I took the book in my hands, and slipped it into Dallas's room just on the bed. And as I turned around, I grabbed the notebook he had open and tore a new page,

Are you okay?

I left the page on the book, so it would be the first thing he saw as he came in and he did that night, come in late into the night.

He came back late that night, I heard his door close loudly. This time it wasn't one bulky pair of shoes, but two who had he brought up to his room, this late at night. I heard laughter, they probably both were laughing at my poor excuse of a note. But I couldn't open my door, it stayed shut as I tried to get up, but the fear of rejection embarrassment stood out. And I knew it would hurt me more if there was a girl on the other side of the door.

So the rest of the night mine and his door stayed shut, until his door opened and he and this other person went down the stairs.

I wanted to know if he had written back on the note, if his response was cold and distant or had as many words and expressions as a couple of words scribbled out on a piece of paper could show.

I knew why I was worried about what he thought so much, why I couldn't hate him, why it would be impossible for me too.

I liked Dallas.

I liked him, to the point where I couldn't read anymore, to the point where I wished he was reading next to me.

Where I wished we could've been back to that cafe where his leg brushed up against mine, and his facial expressions were forever changing.

It was just a crush, it should be over in weeks, I just needed it to be over before school started.

And that night until the present,  I had hoped and tried to make my soul crushing crush fade for him, but it didn't work as I climbed out of bed and opened my room door, to see his open.

His wide open, may I add. His bed was made, as if he hadn't come home at all last night and as I made my way further into the room, his bags gone, every reminder of him that had been here was gone. Except for my note, now with a cursed red pen streaking the page.

Don't you already know how I am? I'll see you Bambi, may this holiday remind you of the never-ending navy blue sky that made you cry that night.

Something about his words, written messily on the page below me, moved me to tears as one slipped out of the crack of my eye.

I'm a mad man as you called it, it's best I don't make you mad too.