Counting Stars

"Lately I been, I been losing sleep

Dreaming about the things that we could be

But baby, I been, I been prayin' hard

Said no more counting dollars

We'll be counting stars

Yeah, we'll be counting stars"

Andy tossed to his side for the millionth time that night. The glowing red numbers on his night stand read 3:26 A.M. He swiped his curtain to the side and peered up at the illuminating moon and stars dotting around it. He hoped she was looking down at him from one of the stars. The possibility itself was comforting and he closed the curtain, satisfied with his thought.

He hated nights. Absolutely despised them. That's when he unconsciously let his mind wander to things he thought he'd forgotten. With nobody there to cease these obtruding thoughts, his mind opened the forbidden door in the back of his mind that remained closed for his own sake.

As he came closer and closer to sleep, his mind came closer and closer to thing he wanted to forget most. But he wouldn't give in. He couldn't. To protect himself from the pain of remembering, it's better just to disregard the thought all together. His mind just wouldn't give in and in order to sleep, he realized what he needed to do. So, he flipped to his other side for the last time and allowed the secret door to open into the world of remembrance.

The first thing his mind stumbled upon was when he first met her. It was a hot and sticky Saturday night at the Louisiana fair. He remembers how even more hot it was when combined with the tsunami of people in all possible directions. His friend, Michael, was supposed to meet him there at 6'o'clock sharp. But as the clock crept closer to 6:30, he couldn't help but be a little mad. Who was he kidding? He was more than a little mad; he was full on fuming when 7:15 came around. He decided that he'd been stood up and went to his car but a hand landed on his shoulder before he could. Michael immediately apologized for being late. Andy shook his head and went to leave before he nodded towards the female company beside him. He shook his head and smiled before turning to the first girl. She introduced herself as Jessica with a bright smile and flowery smell. After that, he turned towards the second girl and gasped internally. This girl had the most breathtakingly beautiful eyes he had ever seen-warm brown eyes with specks of grey and light blue. He felt himself freeze up a little bit but swallowed the lump in his throat and introduced himself. He fondly remembers the toothy grin and firm handshake she had given as she said, "Hi, I'm Charlotte!". The voice echoed in his head in the most realistic way that almost scared him. She was so mysterious, inviting and just beautiful. She was the hook and he was the poor, helpless fish caught by her luring eyes and welcoming attitude. So badly he wished to reach out and swipe his hand across her face, but instead he fumbled over his words and blushed often when she acknowledged him. After he left the fair that night, he found himself being addicted to the thought of her. The lovely stranger that he was so infatuated with had become his new drug that gave him a new type of thrill he had never experienced in all eighteen years of his life.

He let his mind roam to when he first asked her out on a date. After weeks of hanging out as friends and building up his courage, he decided he was ready to take the next step. She smiled that award winning grin and quickly agreed after he asked her to dinner with a red flushed face and sweaty palms. He knew that she did it more out of her polite nature than attraction but he didn't care. A date with Charlotte was a date with Charlotte and no complaints would ever be spoken again.

His mind wandered to their first kiss next. They had been going out on simple dates for two weeks since there first one but one Friday evening before the championship game; she called him urgently, crying. He walked right out of the locker room and drove to her house as quickly as he could. When he arrived, he found her curled into a ball on the porch steps. Tears ran down her fragile face, making his heart break into a billion pieces at the sight. He plopped down next to her and wrapped his arm around her in a comforting motion. She snuggled into his side, chopped whimpers being the only sound heard for an hour or so. Then she looked up at him and told him that her grandmother- the person she'd been closest to- had died. Her face pained at the mention. He told her his apologies but refrained from saying 'it'd all be okay' or 'things get better' because it's different for everybody. Who was he to tell her that things would get better? He didn't exactly run her fate, though he wished he could. She looked up at him with her big puppy dog eyes and time seemed to stop. What happened next didn't exactly make sense to him but somehow it did. He leaned his face into hers with a gentle manner and pressed his lips to hers. Her lips tasted exactly how sweet and tender as he'd imagined for so many nights. Next thing he knew, her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands ran through her hair. It felt so, so right. Like all his life he'd waited for this passionate and compassionate kiss to fix him. And it did fix him, he realized. It rescued him from harsh reality and swept him into a different one.