Firsts and Lasts- Kliensen

First "I Like You"

It's nearly midnight where I'm at, so I could not ask my parents to lend me their computer, given that they don't know I'm up. I had to publish on my phone, so I apologize in advance if typing/editing/paragraphs are wonky.

-19 years old-

---Evan---

"Thanks," I tell him. "For. For the coffee. And, you know, um, talking to me and everything after, I, like, after the whole Connor Project and I just completely... I just, I- thanks for-"

"I'm glad we're talking too, Hansen. You spice life up a little for me, you know that?" Jared speaks not as if cutting me off sharply and clipped the way he used to, but sliding between the words gently as if to ease them away from me before I started talking too much.

Which I just did. Get it together. Jared's voice whispers through my head like a ghost that never stops haunting, even after two whole hours of coffee with the really, really hot guy- be a normal guy for once.

I want to be, I really, really do. And I will be someday, when I get all my crap figured out and start actually understanding my own thoughts.

Jared starts walking down the sidewalk, and I hurry after him when he waves for me to walk with him, careful not to trip over the uneven cement.

"Evan." Jared turns towards me, the light of the afternoon sun catching oddly in his eyes-with-no-glasses, and I'm not sure I like it, just like the way my stomach sinks a little when Jared calls me Evan not Hansen the way he sometimes does. Or did. Or- well- it's just, where's the Jared I knew? "Come on."

And why is his voice so gentle- I don't know, and his smile is too sweet, like he used to come out bitter and dark and someone dumped a bunch of fake-sugar packets in it to sweeten it up.

I definitely like dark coffee more. It feels realer- more real?- and more... personal, or right, or... like, authentic.

I know that bodega: it's full of different foods and objects for everyday, like coffee, newspapers, milk, slushies, waters, and even condoms. And then it hits me like a flash: Jared is walking me home.

My stomach flip-flops and I glance over at Jared- and he's looking at me, which I have no idea how long he's been doing, and now we're just staring at each other. I keep noticing random things, like the swoop of his hair and the way his mouth looks like a quiet joke just for him.

He won't look away and I can't tear my gaze from him- this is kind of scaring me- a lot.

---Jared---

Evan's fingers are going to war with his shirt and he keeps staring at me like I'm this fascinating piece of art or something.

My foot catches on a high piece of cement, jutting out idiotically from the sidewalk in front of Evan's house. That breaks the spell: Evan's fingers surrender, Evan stops staring, straightens a little, and slips his hands into his pockets (jean pockets) all casual.

Not that I want him to freak out, but I want the old Evan back.

So yeah, I guess I kind of want him to freak out. Or something. This guy with his hands in his jean pockets and his eyes not wide is boring.

But the real Evan has to be in there. He just needs to be provoked. If there's one thing I can do, it's that. "Hey, Evan." Oh for fuck's sake, just say it! "I-" I put on my biggest smile, totally not stalling. "I really like you, you know that?"

No one told me that one sentence could completely fuck up someone's thinking.
My mind starts going haywire, speeding through a million different ways this could turn out at light speed. I think I'm turning into Evan.

Fantasies: He kisses me. I kiss him. We kiss. His hand maybe goes a little low and my hand maybe pulls a few zippers.

Cute-and-realistic: He likes me to. We blush.

Most likely: I freak him out he stutters goodnight, he runs back inside.

Worst case scenario: he shoves me on my ass and yells at me for daring to like him after being such an asshole and then runs inside.

Also possible: I freak him out, he has a panic attack.

"You, um, sorry, you what?"

That was anticlimactic.

"I like you."

"Oh." That's it? "I um. Wow, I like you too. I mean, I- yeah. Just, I haven't seen you and I don't know if you're the same, if you like, um. Nevermind, just, I like you too."

I... shit. Holy. Fucking. Shit. "Well shit, wanna go out?"

"Yeah." Fuck, that was fast.
"Like, dating." His eyes are big. Like, huge. Awww.

"Yes- yeah. Yeah, I do."

XXX
That was the last time in a long time either guy would look at the other without blushing.

Oh this is so weird. How many writers publish from their phone? It's so hard!! So sorry if this chapter comes out weird...
               -The Worst Writer on Wattpad