•••••Aiden's Perspective
When I got home that night, I immediately put a pot of water on the stove, with a box of macaroni sitting next to it.
While I waited for it to boil, I sat down on the couch with a notebook and pen, and turned on 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'.
I flipped the spiral open to an empty page, and wrote.
Stars in the skies,
No matter how bright
Can't compare to your eyes,
Nor to your light
I reread the line until I hated it, and moved on to a different page.
All the constellations in the sky
I wrinkled my nose and scratched the line out.
There's a thousand constellations in the sky
Yet you're the only one who ever seems to catch my eye
I reread the line while humming along to 'This is Halloween'.
"Guess it's a love poem day." I shrugged to myself and put the spiral down, standing to check on the water.
I lifted the lid, and rolled my eyes at the sight of the water as flat as the horizon.
Why did it take water so long to boil?
I sighed and leaned against the counter, returning my eyes to the TV screen.
I continued to watch and wait, but something felt off. I felt anxious about something, but I didn't know what that something was.
It was only when I recounted the events of the day that I figured it out.
I gave Sky my phone number.
I groaned and covered my face with my hands.
How could I have been so stupid?
He probably thought I was delusional and desperate.
I'd meant the action as an act of friendship and familiarity: those four were the only people I knew on the tour, it was my first day, I needed some contacts to people who know their way around, etc. etc.
But I hadn't at all considered how it might have looked.
You meet a boy, and then just hand him your number the same day?
I mean, sure, it happens, but not to me.
I'm not like that.
Not anymore, anyway.
Years of trying to put myself out there, trying to find somebody. Multiple bad relationships, even a couple of them in a row.
So I stopped. I realized how stupid and boy-crazy I was being, and I shut myself in.
There's nothing necessarily wrong with either approach, but I was done.
I wanted no part of it.
Sure, it was fun to read and write about, but I couldn't see myself in anything like that anymore.
I just hoped Sky hadn't interpreted my actions as a move.
The soft hissing of steam coming through the breath hole in the lid snapped me back to reality.
I lifted the lid and poured the macaroni into the hot water, setting the timer for eight minutes.
He wouldn't think that of me, would he?
Of course he could, he barely knows you!
But what if he did think that? He didn't exactly look like he was that kind of a guy.
I concentrated on the image of him I had in my head.
Red hair, brown eyes, and a genuine smile.
I shrugged.
'You're being paranoid,' I reassured myself. 'He didn't think you were making a move.'
The timer beeped.
I put in the butter and drained the pasta, before transferring it over to a Tupperware and adding the cheese packet.
I ate my dinner and watched the movie, while writing love poetry and thinking about Sky Flaherty.
