An Hour Ahead

Chapter 5: How About That Plan?

It's Wednesday afternoon and I just got home from a tiring day at school. The usual norm. I plopped my teal peacoat and scarf onto the arm rest of the brown leather couch, and dragged my messenger bag of ten pounds of education upstairs. I opened my bedroom door and was greeted with a pleasant smell of tropical fruit from my "Caribbean Escape" scented wall flower. After throwing my bag onto the bed, I walked into the closet and grabbed my Chicago Blackhawks shirt and comfiest pair of sweats I owned, my black Stanford sweatpants I got from the campus last summer. I changed into my bummy home clothes and approached my dresser.

"Hello, hot mess." I winked to my reflection in the mirror.

I twisted my dark, straight hair into a bun and topped it off with a headband to secure my side bangs out of my face. I'm only in my Junior year of high school, yes, but the developing bags beneath my brown eyes are screaming, "stressed out middle-aged woman."

I sat on the queen-sized bed and reached into my bag for my phone.

"Hi Case :) How was your day? Skype me, I miss seeing that smile." Alex texted.

Alex and I worked out this plan. We exchanged numbers and we set our iPhone settings to send and receive iMessages. I wanted contact with him off Skype too, and this was the only way we could make it happen without all the extra costs.

"Will do! Go online now. Call you soon." I replied.

I jumped off my bed and pranced on my MacBook, suddenly aware of the energy I still had for the day. I followed the steps for logging into Skype and clicked on the "Video Call" option under Alex's name. He answered after a few rings. I heard the sound of cars in the background. He saw my confused look, and smiled.

"Grand Theft Auto." he laughed. Knew it. Alex loved that game. He's one of the few guys I know that don't play Call of Duty. He's practically married to his PS3, but COD is just not his thing. Oh, and Alex and I evolved from just chatting through the chatbox. HE SPEAKS!

"You can always talk to me after your game, you know." I said, tauntingly.

"Nope! It's gone now. Let's talk." He exclaimed, turning off the system and throwing his PS3 controller on the brown beanbag at the foot of his bed.

His room was painted orange, walls trimmed white. He had a bed that looked twin-size. It was blanketed with plaid flannel covers. The back wall that his bed rested horizontally on, displayed a shelf holding his countless hockey trophies. I loved looking up there. He's really talented, but he denies it. He usually Skypes me from his desk that sits on the wall opposite from the wall with his trophies. But when he's tired, he Skypes me from his bed. He claims his bed is his favorite part of his room, but since his TV is always on day and night when he's in there, it makes me second guess his opinion. Whatever floats his boat, I guess. His closet is usually always open and contains a variety of clothing from what seems to look like American Eagle sweaters, athletic wear, jeans, and other boyish stuff.

Unaware of my mind drifting to the subject of clothes, I randomly said, "You have a lot of stuff in that closet. Tough guy likes shopping, hmm?"

"Oh you know it. I'm so manly I own 13 pairs of socks." I burst into laughter at the preciseness of his sock-count and the utter confidence he depicted in his voice. Content with his achievement of making me laugh, he smiled his secondary smile, teeth showing, lips stretched wide, and let out a great laugh with me.

"Alright, weirdo. I understand I'm hilarious to you without even trying, but really... what's up? How was your day?" He asked.

"Same old, same old. I'm glad I survived it! I can't wait for Winter Break to come. Just two more weeks!" The plan of meeting him scurried in my mind but I washed it away and decided to save the news. His voice was too precious anyway. I was too distracted to pay attention to anything else other than his angelic voice. It was deep, masculine, protective, innocent, calm, and fierce. There was a hoarseness in his tone that could only be picked up with the use of intensive listening. He's amazing.