I've never understood why summer is the most popular season. Of course, for children there's the promise of a free summer after months of mental imprisonment. However, for the rest of the population, summer is the same as every other season, just worse. Summer is heat, sweat, and sluggishness. The world glamorizes this idea of a "summer love." A love that's fleeting, but passionate. Bound to hit a dead end, an ugly crash that leaves everyone with scars.
I want a winter love. Winter is crisp, beautiful, and long. In comparison to the adored summer, winter is far superior in my opinion. A winter love is a battle against changing surroundings, but if it survives, you know it can survive anything. Winter is coming pretty soon, with the November air putting on its lovely chill, and girls putting on their woolen sweaters. I've pretty much given up on the idea of a winter love. So, yeah. I guess that's that.
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I look up at the red autumn leaves lining the trees, and narrowly avoid getting hit by a pickup truck.
"Watch it!" The man in the truck yells, leaving me sitting on my bike, bewildered. I guess that's why my mom wants me to use the sidewalk. Of course, this wouldn't be an issue if I had my damn license. Living in Maryland means waiting until you're sixteen and nine months for your license. I hate living in Maryland.
Getting myself together, I resume my bike ride to the library by my house. Yes, I know how dorky that sounds. I promise I'm a normal teenager, not some psycho with no friends. My best friend Rachel and I meet at the library pretty much every day, just to get away from our parents for a while. It's a nice, quiet reprieve from the nosy, overbearing adults in our lives.
While I put my bike into the bike rack, I scan the parking lot for a sign of Rachel's white SUV. Unsurprisingly, I got there first. She's probably in the Dunkin' drive-thru for like the third time today. And that's an accurate estimation. I'm kinda worried about her caffeine addiction to be honest, but I don't have much room to talk. I shoot her a text to pick me up a coffee while she's there.
"how did you know, you stalker bitch." Rachel responds. "i already got you the usual anyway, love u"
I sent her a prayer emoji back in thanks, and walked through the glass doors to our usual library spot. Now, I know what you're thinking when I talk about the library. An old building that smells of ancient wood and pre-civil war ghosts lurking around. That's what I thought too. Contrary to popular belief, our library is modern, full of clean cut furniture and wall decor. The crescent shaped couch in the back corner is Rachel and I's favorite spot, due to its close proximity to the floor to ceiling windows and the YA romance novels.
Throwing my cream colored backpack onto the couch to reserve the couch, I start to look through the bookshelves behind it. Fun fact: I hate reading. Unless it's a romance novel. I'm a hopeless romantic, almost to an unhealthy degree. But it's not like Rachel keeps me in check, because she might be even worse.
A book with a bright blue cover catches my eye, and I go to grab it when another hand is pulling it from the other direction. It's a pretty big hand for a teenage girl. I yank on the book a bit harder, but the other hand lets go, sending me tumbling backwards into the bookshelf behind me. Taking a deep breath so I'm ready to give the bitch a piece of my mind, I look up and- that's not a teenage girl. That's a tall teenage boy, with brown hair and green eyes. Pink lips I find smirking at me, and wait a minute. I was mad at him.
"What the hell, dude?" I whisper shout at him. We are in a library, after all. He raises an eyebrow in response.
"I was just trying to get a book." He says, sarcasm dripping from his voice like honey on a summer day. Ugh, summer.
"Please, you're trying to get a book called The State of Us?" I scoffed, reading the cover with two teenage boys kissing on the front.
"Yeah, you have a problem with that?" He looked pissed now. Shit.
"Uh no. Just unexpected, I guess." I said, unsure. I'm a horrible liar.
"Sure." He whispers, leaning into the space in the bookshelf dividing us. Stuck where I stood, I stared at him walking away, into a chair in the corner. I was still clutching the book in my hands. I pushed it back into its spot on the shelf, replaying what had just happened in my memory. For some reason, the smell of his fluffy, long hair was clouding up the memory. I shook my head to try and get those green eyes out of it. For God's sake, he pretty much insinuated I was a bitch.
I grabbed some random book from the shelf behind me, not even caring what it was about. I just wanted to put some space between the two of us. While I'm angrily flipping through the novel, Rachel drops her tote bag onto the couch next to me.
"Here's the coffee." She chirped. "I saw the cutest guy on the way here, by the way. He's totally your type, tall, brunette-"
"Shut up!" I shout, a bit too loudly for the library. Heads whip around to face me, and I give the stares an apologetic smile in return.
"Jesus, what's your problem?"
"Sorry," I mumble, motioning for Rachel to sit down. "That guy over there stole my book, then had the audacity to call me a bitch."
"He said that?" She gasped. "I'm gonna beat his scrawny ass!"
"Okay, well maybe he didn't say it."
"Then what did he say?"
"Well, he didn't really say anything," I explain, "he just implied it."
"Oh my God, Amelia." Rachel says, rolling her eyes. "Get it together. You're just overthinking it." I just shake my head, knowing I absolutely was not overthinking it. Rachel opens her book, signaling the end of the conversation. Sighing, I open my book as well. I guess I should figure out what it's about.
The sun was no longer in the window when Rachel and I decided we should get going. I press pause on the playlist running on her computer, and we take out our airpods we share when we read. The playlist was a collaborative effort, but the amount of Taylor Swift made it evident I had made most of the contributions.
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After packing up our bags, I wave goodbye to Rachel as she drives away from the library, watching her tail lights disappear. Putting my airpods back in, I'm about to hit shuffle on the 1989 album when I run into what I assumed was a wall. Guess what. It wasn't a wall.
"You have to be the most unaware person I have ever met." The brunette boy from earlier says, staring into my eyes. His green ones look like a dark forest in the night.
"I wasn't looking." I raise my eyebrows at him. "But I'm guessing you weren't either. Hypocrite."
"Maybe if you took your damn earbuds out and put your fucking phone away we wouldn't be having this problem!" The boy shouts, gesturing wildly with his hands, hair flying everywhere.
"Are you always so pretentious?"
"I am not pretentious. I'm just self aware."
"Okay, asshole." I mutter, shouldering past him to mount my bike.
"Actually, it's Thomas." He retorts, turning around to face me. I just flip him off while I ride away. Thomas can go fuck himself.
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YOU ARE READING
you can hear it in the silence
RomanceEverything in Amelia's life is in order. Or it was, before Thomas Greene quite literally pushed his way into her life. He makes a mess of what was so clean before, and Amelia hates him for it. But maybe it's a mess she needed.