love letters | shourtney

xiii.

After dealing with the cats, I rest against the wall of my kitchen, looking to the living room where I left Shayne. He's lying down on my couch reading a book he left the last time he was here, my cats lying on top of him. Even at a distance I can see his headphones in, so I just watch him for a while. 

I can't help but smile at him, for no reason. Or maybe he is the reason. That sounds about right. 

I shake him from my thoughts, heading back to my room. I keep his shirt on, now also wearing his denim jacket, but change into a pair of colourful jeans that are more ripped than not. I grab a different pair of boots to the Docs I had on and struggle to put them on without falling over. 

It only takes me 20 minutes to do my makeup. I would have done something more fun with my eyeshadow, but I couldn't be bothered, so I just used a sparkly pink to cover my eyelids. My eyeliner took way too long, my exhaustion making my hands shake. I felt fine when I woke up, but now I can't seem to do much. 

When we got here, Shayne kept asking if I was okay because I stumbled through the hallway, but I said I was fine. Lying just seemed easier. I don't want to miss out on the party, and I already inconvenienced him enough last night. 

Finally finishing with my makeup, I pull my notebook from my backpack. I don't have enough time to write everything, and I can barely remember most of it, but I need to get a few thoughts down. I sit down facing my door in case he comes to get me. Clicking my pen, I dive into my dumb thoughts.

I spent the night at Shayne's. He said I was too tired to drive all the way to my apartment and I realise now he was right. He told me to sleep in his bed and when he went to leave I asked him to stay with me. Which he did. Why is he so effortlessly amazing?

It could be that I was too tired to comprehend anything, but lying next to him felt right. I mainly base this statement upon the fact that it didn't feel awkward and he didn't seem uncomfortable. 'Seem' is a key word in that sentence, I honestly have no clue about how he feels about last night. 

We did talk. About Kari. Who I now have plans to talk to. Tomorrow night. Which is terrifying. 

But we didn't talk about the fact that we slept in the same bed. And that the last memory I have is rolling over and putting my hand on his chest. I don't remember what I dreamt about, so I guess that's good? I really wish all this could just sort itself out. I know that's not how it works, but God, I wish it was. 

Tomorrow. After I talk with Kari. I'm gonna write a letter to Shayne. It will probably be dumb and cringy, but I really want to try it. He will NEVER read it, so I think I can handle writing it. It might just be what I need. 

I put down my pen and take a breath. My stomach growls but I ignore it, rereading what I wrote and trying to think of anything else. 

We're going to a party at Olivia's tonight. He said he'd only go if I did, which made my heart feel like someone set it on fire. I'm terrified that I'm gonna mess up. There are so many things that could go wrong. Ok, there aren't that many, but I mean, what if I say something about all this to the wrong person because I get drunk. 

I'm so tired. I just want to sleep. 

"What're you writing?" I almost throw the book across my room. 

"Nothing." I pause, feeling like a child that just got caught eating cookies before dinner. "Script ideas." I close it and push the pen through the spiral before placing it on my beside table. "What's up?" I stand in front of it, a guilty feeling threading through my tired mind.