The next day, I search up the concept "highly sensitive" on the internet, discovering quite a bit of intriguing and validating information.
I've always been interested in personality tests, but the older I get, the less I'm able to identify myself within any of the descriptions. Recently, I have been learning about the Enneagram and have yet to place myself into any of the numbers.
I wonder if this means I don't yet know myself, or that I know myself so well I couldn't possibly box the nuances of my personality into any single category. Insignificant daily events cause me to react so strongly that I'm constantly grasping to a swinging pendulum, debating whether I am an optimist or a pessimist. A glimpse of a coral rose can make my stomach burst with joy for the future; a mundane comment from a stranger will cause my whole world to crash down.
Highly sensitive—yes, Alex. It's as if I'm tissue paper in sunlight, and this boy can see straight through to my soul.
We don't spend all our time together; he's quite busy as he begins summer quarter of classes, increasing his work hours now that volleyball has ended. I also begin a part time job at a bookshop, which keeps me occupied during the day from the obsessive need to text constantly.
I hang out often with Raquel, and it feels so new and different to spill all my secrets to her without reservation. Isla and Elia text and call several times a week; they know all about the developments with Alex and are over the moon for me. I keep in touch with a variety of other friends from LC as well.
On Instagram, I begin posting pictures here and there of Alex and myself out together, and I notice Joshua liking my photos. There will always be a tiny ping reaction in my stomach over him, but it's not really about him; it's the memory of my first times—first hand holding in the rose garden, first sweaty dance, first saliva-drenched kiss. The nostalgic billowing when I see his name online or in a text has nothing to do with Joshua and everything to do with me.
It turns out that falling in love with Alex is not all unicorns and butterflies; it's anxiety, overwhelm and the whole spectrum of emotions. I'm terrified about falling too fast and getting hurt.
On a scorching Saturday afternoon, we head to the community pool. It's my first time wearing a two-piece; I feel incredibly self-conscious, despite the fact that I am quite fit from consistent exercise and possess what most people would consider a "good" body (whatever that means). My female friends at college often comment, even though from my point of view, they have equally attractive physiques.
I tiptoe around at the side of the pool as we ready ourselves to go in, my limbs stiff, longing to wrap a towel around myself. It's not that I'm worried about how my body looks; it's the mortification of having so much of myself on display, and fretting about the fabric slipping a centimeter up, down or to the side. I watch everyone else at the pool traipse around, unconcerned, as if the garments they are wearing weren't one minuscule motion away from revealing their most intimate parts.
Alex, of course, senses my discomfort and shoots me a puzzled look with eyebrows that squiggle in the shape of multiple parabola waves. I'm instantly amused, because he has that familiar look that conveys I'm being weird for no reason, yet I know he isn't judging me for it.
"What?" I say, beginning to laugh.
"Are you cold? It's 101 degrees and you look cold."
"No. I'm not used to wearing this type of bathing suit," I admit.
"What type is that?" he asks, his amusement growing along with the intense glow of his eyes, which scan me up and down.
"Stop it," I urge in a hushed voice, giggling as he openly checks me out in the middle of the public pool space.
YOU ARE READING
A New Reflection
Teen FictionNatalia Stevens is smart, nice and shy-and this is exactly how everyone sees her. Even day-to-day conversations with friends and classmates are difficult, and guys certainly don't pay her any attention. During her senior year, Nati begins to notice...
