Lucidity

Bright

I'm infatuated.

These days, I feel so scatterbrained. Every night, I fall asleep later and later while I wait for my dopey, dizzying thoughts to disintegrate. Although I have so many art projects I planned on finishing, my pencil always finds its way back to a familiar face. Instead of creating inventive new dreamscapes, I can only imagine fantasy scenarios that sweep me off my feet.

Something changed between Leo and me. I can't quite pinpoint what or when, but I've felt it coming on for a while now. His presence has always triggered my uncomfortably fast heartbeat, but some new sensation has taken the place of my anxiety. Now when I'm around him and I feel that familiar pressure in my rib cage, I welcome it. Before, my bones were squeezing my chest and suffocating me; now, my heart swells until it outgrows my chest.

The worst part is, I always thought I was better than this. I never understood the romantic movie trope where the girl acts like a complete buffoon. I thought I could use logic to evade lovesickness. If I ever managed to fall for someone, I would never develop an addiction to their rich curls, their dimpled smile, or their amber eyes.

But here I am.

It's nearly midnight, and I gave up on falling asleep long ago. The more excited I become to see Leo in a dream, the more it seems like an impossibility. To pass the time until the constellations in my head settle, I'm sprawled out on the floor, doodling in a sketchbook.

The pages with images of Leo are endless. I've nearly filled an entire sketchbook with tiny scribbles, huge portraits, watercolor paintings, oil pastels, markers, acrylics, anything I can find. I quickly realized Leo is far too beautiful to be captured on a single sheet of paper. I've memorized the patterns of the wrinkles around his eyes when they crinkle up in a smile, but there's a golden glisten in his irises I can never recreate. His dimples and his lips have been the focus on my attention for a while, but the pure, overwhelming joy in his smile will never be present in a drawing. He's a challenge, and I'm obsessed with overcoming it.

To my surprise, my phone chimes. I lunge for it, expecting a message from Leo. Sure enough, the appearance of his name sends a flurry of electricity through my veins, and once again, my heart expands in my chest. Apparently, the inconvenient hour hasn't deterred him from texting me.

"U up?"

I giggle, assuming he's sent it without considering the connotation. I respond, "Where is this going?"

After a few seconds, I receive a screenshot of a news article announcing a rare meteor shower. The information predicts it will be visibile in our area in under an hour.

Leo adds, "Wanna meet me by Everglade Park?"

"Definitely." I realize I'm biting my lip and swinging my legs back and forth. God, I'm an idiot. All logic and rational thinking have vanished from my brain, and I blame him.

My heart skips a beat when I realize Leo hasn't seen my new haircut yet. Suddenly, I see an opportunity to impress him. I leap to my feet and scramble into my bathroom. I hardly ever use the makeup my grandmother once gifted me, but if there was ever a time, it would be now.

Maybe I'm delusional, but this feels like a special occasion. I would normally rattle off facts about meteor showers: they're not shooting stars, they're simply bits of rock hurtling through the air; I don't understand why they're treated as such a spectacle; and no, they most certainly do not have the power to grant wishes. But tonight feels magical. And God, I really, really hope Leo feels that magic too.

Without much confidence in my makeup abilities, I dab blush onto the apple of my cheek with a brush. I curl my lashes and apply mascara with a shaky hand, then add shimmering highlights to my nose and cheekbones. As a finishing touch, I glide a tube of tinted lip gloss over my lips. Admittedly, I can't tell if I'm doing this right, but I feel pretty, and I think that will make all the difference.