The vibrant hum of a melody whispered through the air as I rubbed my eyes early the next morning. My room was silent except for the embrace of the heavy bass from beyond the window pane. As my eyes searched the dark stillness of my room, I fastened my gaze to the thick curtains, blocking the bright rays of the sun. There was no other possible source of the music but from the neighbouring house. I let out a yawn as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my toes curling into the soft carpet beneath them. Stepping past the fallen pillow to my left, I made my way to the curtain, my hand gripping the edge of the cloth as I pulled it aside. My eyes narrowed, squinting from the excess sunlight that washed my room.
After a moment of seeing nothing but a bright light, I had refocused my eyes on the window opposite mine. What awaited me across the roof was a pleasant sight to see first thing in the morning. Dylan was indeed the cause of the music at such an early hour, but seeing him pace his room with the absence of his shirt made up for it. The bonds of the sluggish puppeteer that moved me, were cut as my eyes fixated on the glistening hunk of muscle before me. His hair was still ruffled, most likely from a deep sleep, his mouth moving along to the lyrics of the song, his back arching as he stretched his arms over his head.
My bottom lip was taken between my teeth as I let my mind drift off into the state of hypnosis that came around whenever Dylan was present. How come such a fine specimen like Dylan was allowed to exist, especially in the presence of a doofus like myself? I agree that the world wasn't fair when it came down to it, but just being able to see him on a daily basis was more than enough to make up for it. The reason I hadn't complained, and will never complain, is because I get to keep him all to myself. Or at least I hoped.
His radiant eyes quickly glanced in my direction before resting on me completely. A cheerful smile lit up my lips as he mirrored the same action. He raised a strong hand to me, motioning for me to wait there as he stepped out of view, hiding behind the brick wall. While I waited, I opened my own window allowing the slightly chilled air to creep in. I used the time to my advantage, fixing my messy bed hair as I ran my fingers through it, combing incessantly until I saw him return to his window. My palms were placed against the wooden edge of my window as I leaned forward, watching him undo the lock that held down the glass pane.
To my disappointment he began to crawl out of his window, now with a shirt covering his beautiful body. His white pants tightened around his legs as he reached the roof, his arms bulging from the sleeves of his baseball uniform. A crumpled maroon hat was crushed between his hand as he made his way towards me, his smile more illuminating than the sun. He stood before me, his eyes lingering around my features as he took in my appearance early on a Saturday morning.
"I had no idea you were a peeping Tom." He teased.
"I am not." I frowned playfully. "I just thought that since you got to see me put on a show last time, it was your turn to return the favor."
A lively grin hooked his lips as he laughed. "Did I put on a good performance?" He asked.
"Well, you got me up on my feet." I gestured to my bed. "But I'm not so sure. I'll have to double check with an encore."
"In your dreams." He smirked.
His large hands covered mine as they lay flat on the surface. "Are you planning on showing up to our date in your baseball uniform?" I looked him over a second time. "I wouldn't complain if you were."
"My eyes are up here." He mocked, his hand bringing my eyes back to his with a lift of my chin. "And, no. I have training in a few minutes but I'll be back before you know it." I found it an admirable trait to be so passionate about something you enjoyed doing.
"How you manage to consistently get up this early every Saturday, I'll never know." My eyebrows raised in unison.
"It's an addiction." He dramatized his words. "Now that you mention 'early', aren't you supposed to be in bed like I told you?"
YOU ARE READING
I'm Gonna Miss You
Teen FictionLilah Clemens wouldn't change anything about her life. She might not have had the perfect parents, but her brother, Nelson Clemens was all she needed to have a good time. The two of them had the typical brother-sister relationship, distant in public...
