Dear Caleb

Maybe It's Not

I discover that romance books aren't my thing. I kind of already knew that since the movies always bore the shit out of me. However, I still found myself finishing those books and even starting up Twilight. Again, not my favorite but I can deal with it. Maybe I'm hoping to talk about them with Preston, an excuse for us to talk or something that we can share or maybe I'm just a huge fucking idiot. I don't know but I read them.

Reading books has never been on my to do list. In fact, I've read more during this week than probably my whole life. I always avoid reading textbooks and jump straight to sparknotes to get answers during class. Sitting still is hard for me and to read a book I need to sit still. Mom suggested audio books once but when I tried it out it all went in one ear and out the other, didn't catch a single word.

Except now I think I am going to read a bit more. Next time I see Preston I'll ask him what he's currently reading. Maybe we could read it together and talk about what we think up to that point or...or something.

I slam my book shut and stare into the abyss of my room. Feeling the book between my fingers then recalling my own thoughts makes my spine shiver.

What the hell am I doing?

I've asked myself that a lot yet I haven't got an answer yet. No, maybe I do have one but I don't want to think about it or admit to it. I chuckle at my own stupidity, groaning after I slip down into my bed, curling beneath the covers like it'll somehow protect me from reality.

They definitely do not.

There's a knock at my door.

"Caleb," Mom calls before she opens said door to find me hiding in my covers. She laughs. "What are you doing sweetie?"

"Moping."

"About?" My bed dips, signaling that she has taken a seat. I feel her hand caressing my shoulder through the blanket.

I've never really had an issue being honest so it's not that hard for me to say, "Feelings."

"What kind of feelings?"

"I...don't know." The romantic kind? The confused kind? It feels like a little bit of everything.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mom is continuing to gently rub my shoulder. The feeling is very comforting.

"Not right now."

"Well, when you want to, your dad and I are here." With that, mom pulls the covers down just enough so she can press a kiss to my forehead. She whispers a quiet "I love you" that I happily return just as my dad walks by to say his own "goodnight" and "I love you." Mom returns the covers over my head with a giggle then walks out of my room, shutting the door behind her.

Once she's gone, I slowly peek my head out of my covers but I keep them wrapped around me. It feels too hot but somehow I feel a bit safer beneath my blankets. Safe from what? I don't know. My own feelings? I guess that's the only thing I'm hiding from. It's easier to remain oblivious, to act like nothing has changed but once you realize the truth and see the change it's hard to go back to what you used to be.

Sighing, I pull my book back up, flipping through the pages in order to return to where I left off. I read a while longer until my eyes start to feel heavy. The clock tells me it's almost midnight, normally I stay up later but reading seems to knock me out. Deciding it's better to just go to sleep, I slip the book onto my bedside table and shut off my bedroom lights.

Like most nights I grab my phone and begin to play around on it a bit before bed. I'm looking through instagram then twitter when my messenger pops up. I'm confused to who it is because the guys always just text me but when I see Coco staring at me I know that it's Preston...which is even more peculiar.