Promise, Charlie

3. just fine

Charlie

I was dreaming, wasn't I. My mind was playing cruel tricks.

"Hey," the imposter repeated.

I shook my head incredulously. He looked so real: his hair, those eyes, that scar running down his ar...

Oh. My. God.

I'm sure my mouth was open in utter shock.

"Mind if I join you?" Elliot asked, snapping me out of my daze and reminding me he was still waiting for a response.

"Um- I- sure," I called back, fumbling over my words.

What was he doing here? I must be dreaming, but then, why wasn't I waking up?

Ouch!

(Mental note to future Charlie: pinching only works in movies and cartoons.) Also: don't try and run off of three hours of sleep and two cups of coffee. It never ends well.

Was this what it's like to hallucinate? Conjuring up fake Elliots inside my brain?

I mean, that seemed most likely. I just needed to open my eyes, realize I was hallucinating, and it'd all be over. Then I'd put on some clothes and go to the football game. Heaven knows I needed the fresh ai- wait what?

Snapping my head to the soft grunts coming below, I shrieked as a head popped up and I came face-to-hair with a mop of brown curls.

"Argh!"

I scrambled back, eyes wide in disbelief. Elliot was on my roof.

Repeat.

He was on my roof while I stood gobsmacked, opening and closing my mouth like a fish gulping for air. 

Someone should really make a manual for this kind of stuff. I mean, there are tutorials on how to french kiss, ask a boy out, tell if your husband is cheating on you, but none for confronting a former BFF?

What's the proper protocol for situations like this? On your roof, no less. After ditching said BFF just three years prior?

Talk about awkward.

And no, not those mediocre moments when you pee in your pants or accidentally call your elementary teacher mom. Think bigger. Badder. Like Ashlee Simpson caught lip-synching on SNL bad.

It continued like this for another ten minutes. Neither of us saying anything, just sitting, twiddling our thumbs and brainstorming ways to fill the silence.

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. I mean, just think about the absurdity of the situation. Me, Elliot, laying on a roof? It was like something ripped out of a poorly written fanfic.

Finally, Elliot decided he'd had enough.

"How are you?" He asked, turning to face me. "It's been a while..."

"Yeah," I whispered, my voice barely distinguishable over the gentle breeze.

Looking up, I came into direct contact with his questioning gaze.

"You know today's a Friday, right? Like Friday, Friday. As in there's a football game today? And you're supposed to be there?..."

I shrugged. There were probably millions of questions buzzing inside his head, but I was too tired to volunteer any more information.

Thankfully, Elliot received the message.

"You know," he began. "You're probably wondering how I got up here so fast, seeing as how much you struggled yourself. And no, I promise I wasn't being creepy or anything. It's just, well, we live so close and you weren't being the quietest with where you stepped. Oh god. That's not to say you're fat or anything. I think cheerleading has put you in great shape! Wait, that isn't to say you weren't in shape before. I mean, you looked fine. Wait, not just fine! Great! I mean, not great. I mean, hey! How's life? We're seniors now. Crazy, right?"