letters to the boy who never cared

s e v e n t e e n

Of course, he had to be too beautiful for words. The whole thing was completely unfair.

He dressed in a simple grey t-shirt and black jeans, but looking at him made my mouth go dry. Something about him made me feel under-dressed, though we were both casual. Maybe it was the fact that he had gorgeousness dripping from his pores, while it took me torture and make-up to be "okay". He pulled up in front of my house in his car and walked up to meet me at the door.

Reed smirked at me. "Hey, babe," he drawled in a voice like honey. I melted, and grinned way too widely.

"Hi," I said, hoping that the squeaky way my voice came out could be read as "flirtatious" and not "nervous freak". We began walking to his car.

Reed chuckled and slung his arm over my shoulders. "How's my cutie doing?"

"I am not your cutie," I teased him. "I haven't forgiven you yet." In reality, though, the past events were forgotten.

Reed smirked at me again. "You say that now," he muttered into my ear, tickling me with his hot breath.

"Yeah, and I mean it," I insisted. Liar.

"Hmm," he mused. "What do you say to a little bet? If I can get you to do anything-- kiss me, say you love me, whatever-- you have to forgive me."

The corner of my lip quirked up. "Okay. Only 'cause I know you're gonna lose." He unlocked the car door and I slid inside, laughing.

We were in the car for a while, and the bands Reed liked were soothing and mellow-sounding, so I fell asleep in a less-than-attractive manner. I woke up to the shutter sound of Reed's iPhone snapping a picture of me.

"Reed! Delete it!" I wailed, looking in distress at the hideous picture of me. Why didn't he have a single nice picture of me?

"It's cute!" he insisted. "Go back to sleep. We'll be there in a little while." I didn't argue. I was already feeling car-sick just staring at his phone.

When I woke again, we were at a huge, white-pillared building: the Met. It only took us a few hours to get there since we lived north of the city. Reed drove around to find parking, and then we walked to the museum entrance, hustling in the December air.

"Oooh, my hands are frozen," I said through chattering teeth.

"Here," Reed told me, grabbing my hands. We stood there in the lobby of the Met looking like one of those hipster couples, him staring into my face as he warmed my hands with his breath.

He smirked at me and brought my hands away from his face. "Better?"

I nodded, my cheeks flushing. Then, I stepped back and squinted at him. "I see what you're trying to do, Reed Marlowe."

He frowned dramatically. "Who me? What am I trying to do? I just wanted to help my little boo-bear..."

I looked at him blankly. "Boo-bear? Really?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

I rolled my eyes at him, but he simply chuckled at me and took my coat. We put them in the coat room and started to stroll around the museum.

Turned out, Reed was deep into the art scene. He knew a lot about the pieces, and explained them to me. Popular, hot and cultured?

How on earth did I end up with him?

I walked around wondering that as my too-perfect almost-boyfriend made me feel inferior. Despite that, I was basking in the warmth of his attention. As usual.