Sweetheart

21

Aaron
October 2020

I have no intention of waking up this morning. Getting out of bed, working out, showering, having breakfast, going to school... Those aspects are actually okay, all things considered. The issue is walking down the stairs and finding Lizzie in a pajama that doesn't consist of shorts and my t-shirt. Which is exactly what I see as soon as I enter the kitchen.

Question is, why is she awake at six-fifteen in the morning? She's usually still asleep when I come back from my morning run at seven. Instead, she's already dressed and halfway done with her breakfast.

Her eyes meet my confused gaze for a moment before she sighs through her nose. I ask, "What are you doing up?" My voice comes out a bit too raspy, due to being still drenched in sleep, and it makes her wince slightly. Oops.

"We have school, don't we?" she replies, sarcastic, as she finishes her bowl of cereals.

I furrow my brows, glancing at the clock to check the time. "Isn't it a bit too early?"

Lizzie shrugs and gets up, cleaning the table in silence. Then, she says, "I'm walking to school, so it'll take me a while."

I widen my eyes. "Are you insane? You can't walk to school, it's too far," I point out, walking into the kitchen. "Why would you do that?"

She leans against the counter with her arms folded. She looks so serious. No brightness shines in her eyes. "I'm not getting in the car with Nate."

Oh. That's right. Shit. "I'll take you," I blurt out before I can stop myself. She's going to either laugh at my face or slap me across it.

Apparently, neither. She just says, "No, thank you."

"I can't let you walk to school, Lizzie. It's—"

"Ah, so we're back to Lizzie now," she interrupts me, giving me a bored look.

I blink slowly, sighing through my nose. "Can we please move on from what happened yesterday, Lizzie? I know I fucked up. I also know that some shit happened to you, which is why you reacted that way. Fine. Okay. I don't want you to explain your life story to me if you don't want to. But I also don't want to throw everything we have built away," I finally admit, taking another step toward her.

I look at her. She looks at me. I could die by the way her eyes stay in mine. I didn't realize I'd die by her words instead. "We haven't built anything."

She grabs her backpack and passes next to me, brushing her arm against mine, her sweet scent filling my nose and brain. There's no way I'm letting her walk out after this one.

I run after her, closing the front door behind us and following her as she paces across the driveway. I grasp her backpack and pull her back, nearly making her fall on her ass. She yelps, then scowls at me with a dark glare.

With her backpack still in my hand and her forearm in my other, I guide her into the garage, blocking the exit with my body. She stands still in front of me, her body tense. And her cheeks a bit rosy. "Don't feed me that bullshit, Lizzie," I state.

"What bullshit? It's true. What, you thought because we had a moment we suddenly became best friends or something?" she retorts, hiding her hands in her pockets.

I clench my jaw. "Shut the fuck up. You're being a brat for no fucking reason." She wants harsh? I can give her harsh.

"I'm a brat? You're the one who didn't tell me all that shit about the t-shirt! I deserved to know," she remarks yet again.

"Yes, I know! And I said I'm sorry! I fucked up. I got it. But I don't think I deserve to be treated like this, now, do I?" I bite back, raising my voice.