the summer you noticed me ↠ conrad fisher {1}

n i n e

     My eyebrows scrunch up waiting him to elaborate. He peaks at me out of the corner of his eye, and sighs when he sees me waiting. He runs a hand through his hair, then takes the joint out front where it was the whole time from behind his ear.

"What do you mean?" I ask, knowing that he's not going to explain himself without a little push.

     "You know what I mean," he says quietly. 

He takes in a long drag and I watch him. I don't know what to do with myself. I just keep staring at him, eyes scanning his every feature trying to figure out what's going on in that head of his. I just want him to be openly honest with me. He just was holding me, he was holding me last night, but he can't admit that he enjoys it. That he wants this just as much as me.

     "I don't," I say, causing him to look up in frustration.

     He groans, "Claire please don't make me say it."

     "Okay," I say. "I won't," I stand up.

     I'm not sure if my mood swings of irritability is because of the lack of sleep I got but if he can't admit to my face something as simple as him just enjoying being near me, I don't want to be around. I have spent more then half my life daydreaming about him, I can daydream that he admit it in my dreams.

"Wait," he says quickly. "Where are you going?"

"Going to get food," I say and then turn to leave. "See you later, Conrad."

     "Claire please don't go," the desperation in his voice tears my heart right in two. It's so hard, being with him is easy when I don't like my emotions of wanting more getting in the way.

     Something in the atmosphere around us changed this summer, from the moment I got here. It was an unexplainable pull I got when I was near him. I have always had butterflies over the past few summers, but this is more then that — because I think this summer he somehow needs me unlike he ever did before.

     "Claire," he repeats again. "Please come sit with me," I slowly turn. The way his hair is blowing. The way his eyes are locked onto mine, he's begging. It's what I want. I want him to want me, and here he is trying in the only way he allows himself.

     My head drops forward and I sigh. I'm angry. I'm angry because he confuses me so much. His mood swings and unable to talk about his feelings hurts me more with every passing second.

     He's waiting. He's staring at me with hopeful eyes, and I know by the fluttering in my stomach and the way my hairs are standing up on the back of my neck that I can't leave him. He's smoking at 6am, he isn't okay.

     "Okay," I say. "Okay, but you owe me food."

     He nods, a small hint of a smile plays upon his lips. "Deal."

* * *

     "No fucking way, how did you remember?" I gasp. "You're the best," I let out a soft whimper as I take my first bite into the muffin. Conrad is watching me, his eyes are focused on my mouth and he's grinning.

    I stop chewing, which he realizes that I saw him staring at me. He shrugs as if it's no big deal, but then his grin turns into a wide smile. "This is also for you," he says passing me a coffee. "We even?" He asks.