Love Like In The Books

Chapter One

Sarah Green

"Shit! Fucking Shit!"

It would be the best option for the ground to reopen and swallow me down and close back up. My cheeks heat up from the mortifying thing I just did.

Closing my eyes I took a deep breath in. In and Out. In and Out. Just like that I thought that my stupid brain would shut up about the action my hands have just caused. My heart thumps against my chest and I have my phone clinging to it like a parasite.

'Why can't you fucking control yourself, you stupid arse.'

Scolding myself wouldn't work now. And I have to bear the fruit of my actions. Sneaking a peek at my phone. I whine as the heart is still in that shitty red colour. Huffing I exited the app and threw my phone back on the bed.

I couldn't believe I just liked the picture of one of my old school mates which he posted three freaking years back. It wasn't like I was stalking him—you know what nevermind I actually was stalking him. But I did it usually and have been careful about it. But now the train of thoughts have wrecked my mind that I can't seem to move past this tiny embarrassing moment.

But it's just a pic, I could just tell him that my friend went through my phone and it was her stalking him not me actually. But for it to work he actually has to text me. Which he wouldn't and he would just think of me like a creep who's been keeping an eye on him.

I stopped thinking and tried to focus on the song that's been bursting through my earbuds. But even 'K by ciggerates after sex' can't calm my nerves down. Reaching out to my phone again. I took in a deep breath and opened 'notes'.

It's my home, my safe heaven. The centre of my thoughts and my work. It's the first place I draft my books. My poems. The sudden thoughts and lines that cage my mind. My notes represents me. But like myself I tried to organise it but it's still a mess. Sighing I opened the poems folder and opened a blank note.

I stared at the yellow colour curcer blinking back at me. My thoughts wandering back to him. My cheeks heat up from embarrassment of my action and the memories we made in that last year of high school. I was always a hopeless romantic and he was a rational thinker, always with facts theories and statistics. Ready to counter down the counter down each and every question I would throw at him. 

Words stringing with memories and feelings tumbled down my mind and on the note through my fingers. It wasn't a perfect peom with rhymes or unique and attractive words. No it was a poetry —a poetry for him. Because someone once told me that poems are bound with rhymes but poetry is bound together with emotions and memories.

I marked the final full stop and looked at the art I just created. It was my art, my venture of things I always kept inside. My poems were my feelings and a reflection into my own soul. I didn't let anyone get a peek into it now.

"
You are the moon
I look up to in my dark nights,
holding onto my hand
while I fight my war till it ends for all.
As i look up to you each and every time
you welcome me with your soft glowy smile.
"

A soft smile touches my lips as I bite the inside of my cheek. Personal, these feelings I had were so personal that I couldn't think of sharing it with anyone else. So I kept them with me. Locked up like myself in my notes.

Jumping back up I had to stand still for a minute to let the fog clear from my eyes. I've been craving ice recently. A  little devil laugh bubbled inside of me as I walked all the way across my room to the kitchen and to the fridge. Taking an ice cube out. My hands started to burn from the coldness as I jumped that little shit from one hand to another.

There wasn't anything else that Arlo hated than the sound of me eating ice. He said and I quote. 'It's like you're eating a fork, jeez.' I shivered at the thought. Yeah I didn't like the sound of it either. But eating ice was just something so simple and stupid yet I loved it. I tapped on our chat and put the cube in my mouth crunching on it all the while my thumb is pressed upon the voicemail icon.

When satisfied with the fifteen seconds audio I clicked the send button. I grinned to myself thinking of his frowned brows and his fake gags and cringy face when he has to listen to me eating ice.

My phone beeps with the alarm I set off the afternoon blaring through the speaker of my phone. Sighing I turned it off before I tottered my way back to my room. I usually use my phone notes to use it to write my draft but when I feel like I need to reach the limits of perfection and  get deep down into the skin of the reader through the characters—though I try to do it in each and every book of mine but this one feels different to me. I've worked my head so deep into studying what and how I want my characters to be. How, when, why and everything in between has been set and ready and it just needs my mind to work on it.

Fetching my phone one last time I turned my playlist around and played 'Doin' time by Lana Del Rey' on repeat and set myself down on the small table that sat parallel to my bed facing the glass windows of my balcony. Feeling the beats of her song I smiled to myself and started writing down.

'Prologue'