Change. It occurs every day; sometimes voluntarily, sometimes involuntarily. A change of surroundings, a change of circumstances, a change of people, a change of pace; sometimes an abundance of change can make you feel like you’re thrown into an alternate universe, like you’re an outsider in your own life, on the outside looking in, like you’re watching the strange creature before you make brash decisions, and react to the sudden change of, well, everything—this is exactly how Sj feels. She lays in bed with the ceiling staring down at her, trying to force her eyes to close for sleep. She just feels out of place, strange and small in this huge new house.
Her head fills with the memories of her friends, who now have the sad adjective old in front of them. They’re old friends now, she has to tell herself. Everyone makes glorious promises of keeping the friendship alive but when you move from New York to Maryland, it’s hard to imagine the friendship remaining intact.
The shortest route between the two states is four hours long, four hours too long. What makes the whole thing monumentally worse, is how her mother planned this move just a week before Christmas. She’s going to miss New York, and how beautiful it all looks during the winter season; bright lights, swirling snow and sweater-weather are things she looks forward to all year. She’s hear mixed reviews about Maryland weather, and Maryland in general. She yearns now more than ever to be back home, in her real home.
Once more, her mind dances around her friends; trudging through the snow to school while still laughing, hot chocolate at the Starbucks on Saturdays. All distant memories now, only distractions from slumber, something to keep her awake at night. Somewhere along the line of her recollection, slumber whisks her away.
***
“Sarah!” she cringes at the damn name, can’t stand it.
“Yes?” she calls out, tearing herself away from the attention of the ivory and black staring up at her while decidedly giving up on her piano for the day.
“Will you come here for a minute?”
Agreeing to this request could be easier said than done; she’s just moved into her new house and isn’t quite sure of the layout. After a failed attempt or two, she presents herself to her mother, downstairs in the kitchen.
“Yes?” she repeats, leaning against the counter.
“I want you to introduce yourself to our new neighbors,” her mother replies cheerily while busying herself with unpacking a box of silverware, “I think it’ll help with the move and such if you make some new friends. The woman next door, Joyce, she told me she has a son who’s only a little older than you.”
“Mom, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she blurts, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“And why ever not?”
“Because I define the word awkward.”
“Come on, Sj.”
Oh no, she’s trying it. Manipulating her again by finally using the nickname she’s been going by for years.
“It can’t hurt,” she continues, “They’re apparently having a holiday party.”
“Fine, fine,” she grumbles, “When do you want me to head over there?”
“Tomorrow is fine,” her mother muses, “Just make sure you do it.”
“I will, I will,” she replies, her mind miles away, “I think I’ll head out for a run now.”
***
Small, strange, out of place and now socially awkward. She has no idea what she’s doing at a party at the—she now knows them—Barakat house. Their neighbors—which consequently are now her neighbors, are all there, as well as a group of four boys all sitting in front of a rather large television, playing video games.
She watches them for a while, looking on curiously. One of the boys has a mess of vaguely brunette hair that’s carefully styled to go in all different directions, he has the most interesting laugh, she decides; one of the boys barely utters a word and has long black hair, she’s unsure what to make of him but gets a sense that he could be interesting; the other has brown hair that falls in his eyes and sways with him every time he laughs, he seems the funniest. The final boy, the one she nicknames Skunky, lets out a slightly squeaky ‘fuck’ when he loses the game. Though most people would be turned off by the squeak in his voice, Sj finds it endearing. Endearing in the kind of way that makes her cheeks redden, causes her to bite down on her lip and push dirty blonde hair behind her ear. He’s charming, in a perfectly awkward way.
“Jack!” the woman who earlier introduced herself as Joyce calls to the group of boys. A tall, lanky guy stands. Sj allows her eyes to scan the boy, using the chance to observe him. His hair flops down into his eyes, blonde sections add a little color to his otherwise strikingly dark locks. His eyebrows knit together over top of deep, chocolate brown eyes once he comes to the realization he’s being gazed at, nearly picked apart where he stands.
Pink lips twitch up into a smirk as he calls back to his mother, “Mom, who’s the pretty girl in the living room staring at me?”
A blush colors Sj’s cheeks and she tries to pipe up to introduce herself, as well as offer an explanation but Joyce beats her to it with a simple, “Sj, our new neighbor. Try to be nice Jack, instead of hyper, hard-to-handle Jack, okay?”
The smirk grows into a full-on grin as he crosses the room to approach her, “I know your name but I like pretty girl better. Hi pretty girl, I’m Jack.”
“You make me sound like a dog you’ve taken a liking to.”
“Sj!” a voice yells, yanking her out of her memories.
“Hmm? Sorry, Jack,” she starts, turning her attention to the TV in front of them, “I’ve been really lost in my thoughts lately, cycling through a lot of memories.”
“Like how we met at my Christmas party?”
“Actually, yes. I have no idea why but it’s been all I can think about lately; it’s been keeping me up at night, too.”
“You never forget how you meet your best friend,” he replies with a cheeky grin.
“Of course,” she retorts with a playful eye-roll and a shove of his shoulder, “It’s hard to believe that was a year ago.”
“Yeah,” he muses, then has a moment of courage, “You know, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to do for about a year now.”
“Decide that you don’t want to be my friend after all?” she’s met with a glare at this response, so she tacks on a question at the end, “In all seriousness, what is it, Jack-o?”
His hand nervously reaches up to her face, turning it towards him. Before he can chicken out, he presses their lips together in a firm but tender kiss.
“Hopefully make a memory that keeps you up at night,” he whispers fearlessly against her lips.
YOU ARE READING
One Shots. ~ Requests Closed
Teen FictionThe first page is just the form for requests, then the following is the list of requests and the order they'll be done in. Then, the rest is self-explanatory.
