N. Hanson's Point of View
"Naomi!" My mother called me. I got up from my bed and ran into the living room where her voice came from. I shot her a smile, "What's up Mom?" She laughed a little, "Someone is calling for you." A small smile grew on her face and I shook my head at her as I grabbed the phone.
"I'm going to work, I'll be back tomorrow. Leave a note if you go out, and tell your brother where I am when he gets home. Okay?" My mother told me. I nodded in agreement. She walked out the door, "Bye sweetie." I waved to her, "Bye Mom." She closed the door behind her as I pressed the phone to my ear.
"Hey, it's Naomi. Who's calling?" I asked. A familiar laugh rang in my ears, "It's Bryce." I nervously chuckled, of course it's Bryce, "Well hello Bryce. What are you calling me for?"
He let out an adorable chuckle, "I'm at Jacobs house and Sarah is totally coming on to me." My heart hurt a little when he said that, Was he rubbing it in my face? Why did he tell me this? Why am I taking it this way? I shook it off and let out a fake laugh, "Ooh lucky you. Go get her tiger."
Bryce scoffed, "No. It's definitely not like that. I don't like her." He stated in a tone that made it sound like he was trying to cover something. Did he like her? God, he does... doesn't he? Why would he tell me this if he did? What is he trying to do? I can't blame him though, Sarah is pretty. She's every guy's fantasy. Blonde hair, wears short dresses so pigmented they blind you, super cheerful over every little thing. The perfect popular girl.
"Okay Bryce. I believe you." I said nervously, trying to cover it with a laugh that just sounded forced. I sighed to myself, Why am I doing this? Why do I feel these things for him? It's stupid. And I'm not stupid. So why can't I just ignore it, or get over it?
What is it that makes me desire his approval so much? It can't be his looks, although his aren't bad. How his blonde hair just sits there perfectly, how one corner of his lips curl upwards when he's happy, forming almost a dimple. How whenever I sass him, he just chuckles and shakes his head at me before looking into my eyes, like he needs to see me. Making my heart beat out of my chest. How his warm, brown eyes look at me so intently when I'm talking, like he cares, making me fumble over my words and nervously run my hand through my hair. Nobody has ever cared that much.
Not just that. He's sweet, funny, caring and he doesn't even know how he makes me feel. How I feel these damned feelings for him that I can't deny. That he doesn't even try to make me feel this way and I still do. I wish I could just tell him. I wish I could just run to him and tell him, Bryce it's you. It's always been you.
I was brought out of my inner-monologue when I heard his voice again, "Okay. Well, I'll see you later. Yeah?" He spoke softly and sweetly. I nodded in agreement, although he couldn't see me nod. I laughed a little at myself before speaking, "I look forward to it."
"Okay. Bye." Bryce spoke once more. I hung up the phone and the smile on my face grew even larger, my cheeks red as a tomato.
Damn, he had me wrapped around his finger.
