Catch Me

||August 3rd||

Do it. The little voice in my head chanted. You know you want to. Do it. I sat on the cold beach and stared at the tiny waves lapping against the shore. I debated on walking along the path around the lake to see if I could find your house. Part of me just wanted to see you again but the other part of me said that it was unacceptable, creepy, and stalker-ish. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to say if I saw you but I just knew I had to. I pushed my self up off the beach, wiped the sand off me, and started off on my trek to find your house. The first couple houses were normal sized but the farther I walked the bigger and more expensive-looking they became. I had lived in Morgan most of my life but never had I walked the whole 13 mile length of the lake path. Though I work at the mercantile, I reside on the opposite side of the lake where the smaller houses with no fancy boathouses or huge patios are. I let my thoughts wander until I saw you. You were in a little, white pavilion with a big easel set up. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared. The light just filtered through the trees and even from afar I could tell that you biting your lip in concentration and furiously sketching. I was so enraptured in watching you that I forgot about everything else. Until your eyes met mine.

"Hey, pizza boy," you called. I blushed and turned back towards the path ducking my head down. You idiot. Now she's gonna think you're a stalker. Great. "Hey, wait up." Then, all of the sudden you were tapping on my shoulder. "Hey!"

"What?" I avoided her eyes and stared at her cute, little sloped nose.

"Do you need something?" You asked.

"No, why?" I looked down and my worn out flip flops. You cleared your throat and I looked up.

"My eyes are up here." I looked straight ahead of me and to the sides.

"Where up here?" You laughed and I smiled.

"Alright, alright I get it. I'm short. 5'3 isn't that bad, my sister is 5' even." Your smile was dazzling and every ounce of courage I had built up crumbled.

"D-Do you want to, um, go for a walk? W-With me?"

"Yeah, sure." You nodded your head eagerly. "But, um, would you mind coming up to the pavilion with me. I could use, um, never mind." You took off running up back to the pavilion and I reluctantly followed. I stared at your house as I stepped onto the raised pavilion. The pavilion was nice and home-y with built-in floral printed couches and multi-colored throw pillows, but your house was something else. The size could rival the white house itself and was probably worth a fourtane. Then, it dawned on me; I was crushing on the daughter of the single most rich person in Morgan and probably Utah. The one girl, the one girl that maybe likes me back has to be über rich. I heard the clank of something metal hitting the ground and, still in a trance, I automatically reached to pick it up. When my fingers brushed the warm fingers of someone else I broke out of my reverie and looked into your eyes. Today they were more of a greener blue rather than they were yesterday.

"Sorry," we mumbled in unison. We both laughed and you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You do that a lot. You looked away and I stood up.

"What are you drawing?" I looked around to see multiple paints scattered on the concrete and a sketchbook splayed across the other couch. I craned my neck to see what was on the big canvas. You covered it with your petite body and your cheeks tinged crimson.

"Would you mind if I painted you?" You asked and I was genuinely surprised. No one had ever asked me to be a model for them.

"Um, I, uh, sure." Your face broke into a smile.

"Great!" And then you pulled an expensive-looking, small Polaroid camera; I would soon learn you take with you everywhere; out of a beige satchel that was thrown carelessly on the couch. "Okay, can you do something for me?"