– Terra –
We sit in silence right by the windows in the corner of the room, oblivious to all the people around us. The sky is painted in a palette of orange and I can't help but gaze at its beauty. There is something about evenings that soothes me, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
That was the scenario I had imagined in my head when I decided I was going to swallow my pride when Daniel said we had to pair up. I was going to march over to him, suck it up and apologize for being a pansy, explain myself and everything will be all good. We'll be friends, and he won't think of me as a psychopathic cry baby.
This is what's happening.
I am now, due to unforeseen circumstances, recovering from a mini tantrum for being called short. Okay, fine, so he didn't really say that, but he implied. It was as if everything I had rehearsed in my mind got erased in an instant. After all that effort and courage it took for me to approach him, his only comment was about my height.
"I'm sorry." He says for the third time, sounding just as apathetic as the first two.
"Maybe you should've thought twice before asking." I mutter to myself, mentally cursing my short legs.
"You two sure are getting along." Daniel trudges over, wearing a pointy smile. Pointy, because I've never seen the corners of someone's mouth lift that high before.
"No we're not." We say in unison.
"Okay, if you say so." He raises his shoulders to a shrug before moving on to check on the next pair.
And so, the first day of Support Group progresses slowly.
Zach hasn't spoken a word ever since and I don't plan to speak either. How is it that every time we meet, something has to go wrong? And this was my only chance to make things less awkward. Why am I so awkward? I should give up.
I sit still on my chair, my fingers itching to check my phone again. It's an unconscious habit that became too apparent recently when I started to realize I'm not receiving any messages anymore, but yet the constant need to check it is persistent.
I glance at Zach, who I notice is barely a phone guy. I've never seen him on his device, not even once, which is proving to be extremely rare these days. At silences like these, it'd be an instinct to do so, but all he is doing instead is quietly sketching on his book, effortlessly creating life from what was a blank canvas. He has been in that position for as long as I can remember now and I'm almost afraid to interrupt.
Meanwhile, time doesn't seem to be moving for me.
It is during this long silence when I take the time to reflect on myself. What kind of life am I living when I am regularly in need of materialistic distractions to remain okay?
I stare outside the window again, paying attention to the birds that roam freely beneath the clouds that resemble cotton candy. I hear the clock on the wall ticking as I gaze aimlessly at the auburn sky. The ticking is getting louder.
Okay, that's it, the silence is killing me.
"I can't take this anymore." I groan the words that were not intended to be heard.
For the first time, his hand comes to a standstill. I boldly look at him and our eyes meet. Despite his contemptuous demeanor, a fleeting gaze from him sends a strange sensation through my veins. His piercing blue eyes seems to see through even the deepest secrets that people so desperately hide.
YOU ARE READING
Sweet Epiphany
Teen FictionEighteen year-old Zach Curtis has lost everything: his girlfriend, his job and his scholarship. Nothing in the world matters anymore, until he receives a rude awakening from a stranger. Petite and awkward, Terra Quinn is living the life with her bes...