The Stars In Your Eyes ✩ Tim Shepard

Lovestruck

Tim was passed out by the time we got back to my house. In the darkness, I could just see the cuts and many bruises on his pale face.

Curly actually looked upset to see his brother in that state. It amazed me, how he acted so tough and mean around his gang, but soft, like a kid his age should act when he was alone. I guess he was trying to protect his reputation...

I sat on my desk, my legs on my chair as I was still mauling over what Curly had said back on the tracks, that Tim hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since the night he met me. It was really something to chew on.

My biggest question was, why? Why hadn't he drank since he met me? Or was Curly lying just to be saying something, though I had a feeling that wasn't the case?

If only I knew my question would go unanswered for a while. So I guess I'll just say he was trying to change, be a better person. It didn't work though, not really.

Curly sighed, standing straight up from where he was once crouched in front of Tim. "He'll sober up enough by the morning." He said as he leaned against the wall next to me.

I nodded, though I was still staring at the door.

"He likes you, y'know," Curly said suddenly.

"What?" I replied, sure I didn't hear him correctly.

"The fool likes you." Curly repeated. "Ever since he laid eyes on you in that alley. Hasn't been the same since. Lovestruck, I think."

I glanced over at Curly. He had a serious look on his face, but he didn't look back at me.

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly, trying to look somewhere else.

He sighed. "I mean, Tim ain't never been hung up on a soc girl like you. Sure, he's been around, but there's something different about you. You see something in him that nobody else sees. Maybe that's why he likes you so much."

Curly's tone was sincere. Like he genuinely believed what he was saying about me and his brother was true.

As I absorbed what he had said, my eyes finally landed on Tim. He was all snuggled up in the blankets, his eyes closed with beads of sweat lining his forehead. He was still pale and was trembling ever so slightly. Nevertheless, he looked kind of happy, grinning a little, in his sleep. He must have been having a good dream.

I sighed, holding my head in my hands. I didn't know what to think. Both Curly and Breanna thought Tim liked me. Shoot, Tim basically said it himself. But I didn't want to believe it. I was falling in love with that boy, but I wouldn't admit it because I knew sooner or later Tim would move on. He would find a new girl, then I would become nothing more than a distant memory. Something easily forgotten.

I felt like I was going in circles, and in a way, I was. One moment, I was letting myself like Tim, the next I wasn't. I guess I was both stubborn and confused. I had to get everything sorted out in my head, yet I couldn't. Everything was just so jumbled up. It was like I was playing a never-ending game of tug-of-war with myself.

"Connie?" Curly snapped his fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to reality. "Are you okay?" He asked, coming to stand right in front of me.

"Yeah, just thinking," I said, looking back at my bedroom door. I was expecting my mother to walk in, wearing that navy blue robe she wore to bed every night. I could imagine her reaction to finding not one but two greaser boys in my bedroom. One passed out drunk and the other brooding.

Curly nodded, glancing at the door with me.
"Expecting someone?" He asked, half joking, half just to be saying something.

"My mother." I sighed.

"Ah, the mother that would kill you before killing us." He said.

"Yep, that's the one." I weakly chuckled, which just turned into a sigh. "Wait, how do you-?" I began to ask, suddenly realizing I never told Curly that piece of information.

"Tim told me." He said, leaning against my desk while crossing his arms.

"Oh," I nodded, glancing back at the boy, who was sound asleep in my bed.

"He talks about you a lot," Curly said randomly. "All good things. I think you just might be his favorite subject."

"Oh," I repeated, thankful for the darkness that had hidden my now blushing face. Why did he have to talk about me? But then again, I talked about him to Breanna all the time, so I guess it wasn't that different.

"Sorry, that all sounds a bit... odd," Curly said, reading my discomfort.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "It does." I sighed again. "You should try to get some sleep, I have a feeling tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

"You got that right." Curly joked, pushing away from my desk and making his way around to the other side of the bed. "What about you?"

"Mhm?" I looked away from the door, to Curly who was clambering into bed beside his older brother.

"You coming to bed or are you gonna stay perched up there all night?" He rephrased, pulling the covers over his legs. "It's like you said, tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

I shifted uneasily, not moving from my spot on top of my desk. Curly suddenly groaned, jumping out of bed and coming up to me. Before I could even protest, the boy picked me up, carrying me to bed which only made more blood rush to my face.

Curly lightly tossed me into bed beside Tim before crawling beneath the covers beside me. He turned so that he was facing my bathroom door while Tim still lay facing my window. I, however, lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

I already knew It would be a miracle if I were to get any sleep. After a few minutes, Curly's snoring filled my room and Tim shifted so that he was now facing me.

In his unconscious state, the boy's arm found its way around my waist. His breathing was steady as his chest rose and fell with every inhale and exhale. The smell of cigarette smoke that I had grown so used to filled my nostrils and a soft mumble slipped past Tim's lips.

I sighed as his arm tightened around me and he rested his head on my shoulder, a miracle indeed.

However, I just kept proving myself wrong, as the next morning my eyes fluttered open to the sun bright in my eyes. I groaned, sitting up in bed, letting the comforters slip off my shoulders. I ran a hand through my tangled hair.

Curly and Tim were gone, my window was slightly ajar as always, and the first thing I did was hop out of bed and take an ice-cold shower.

When I got out, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. There was a small sheet of paper tucked into my blankets. It had a look that said, it wasn't meant to be there. Before I knew what I was doing, I had unfolded the paper.

It was a hand-drawn picture of four palm trees, with a little path up the middle. In small, neat writing were the words: Baja California, Mexico. I couldn't help but smile.