Taste the Rainbow (Editing/Rewriting, slow progress)

VIII.

chapter eight: someone to you

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I wake up before Carly does. My head is laying on her shoulder and my arm is placed across her chest. When I wake up I have to keep calm to not to shoot up to get some distance between us because I know she probably doesn't want me to be that close and I would wake her up if I did so.

Carefully I remove my head from her shoulder and do the same with my arm. My gaze wanders from her sleeping face across the stuff in my room to the window. It's not very bright yet and I guess that it's about half past six, maybe even earlier. 

Slowly I sit up and slide of the bed, careful to not wake up Carly. I sneak across the mess of clothes on the floor that I didn't bother to clean up before Carly got here. One of my framed paintings on the green wall is my goal. With caution I take it off the wall an turn it around. In the back there's a the book hidden that I write my poems into. I take it out and sneak back to my bed where I sit down.

Carly is still sleeping and I watch her for a moment. Her calm face, her messy hair framing her face and her chest raising and lowering as she takes breath after breath. I have to force myself to stop looking at her and the butterflies from going crazy again.

The book is nearly full and I only have about five pages left to write on. For some time I just look through it and read a poem every now and then. Then I grab a pen from my bedside table and turn to the last page to write down some random words. There are some already and the variety of their theme is huge. Some of them have to do with love, some with appearance, school, home or books. Some of them you can't even read anymore because they're overlapping.

In the top right corner there is a free spot. At first the pen is just hovering above the empty space because I don't know what to write. Then I place the pen on the light yellowy paper and as if by itself the word 'accident' appears there. The word 'wonder' is following right away paired with 'family' and 'unfair'.

It goes faster to write down the words circling in my mind with time and with the letters appearing in front of my eyes it gets easier to think about them clearly.

The theme goes from Jackson to yesterdays evening –'reality' and 'unrealistic' are one of the first things I write down–. After a few minutes I'm done. I carefully swipe over the words I wrote and close the book again. 

I look at Carly again who's still sleeping peacefully. Her face is free of all stress and the way she looks sleeping moves something in me. Without really wanting it there are scenarios running through my head. Carlys face lighting up every time she sees me in school. Her sitting next to me at lunch. Her hand in mine. Her sleeping next to me every night. Her standing at the stove making breakfast and smiling at me over her shoulder. My hands on her cheeks and her russet eyes locking with mine. The softness of her lips as they brush against mine.

Stop it, I think and force my gaze away from her, She has a boyfriend. She's happy with Charles. Sometimes they argue a bit but she's still quite happy with him. 

I look at her again and her beauty hits me again. Butterflies dancing salsa. My brain wants to go on another trip of 'what-if' scenarios but I stop it before it goes too far. 

She would be the perfect girlfriend.

Then she opens her eyes and I quickly look away. Dumb thing to do. Keeping to look at her would have been less conspicuous than looking away like she caught me doing something I'm not suppose to. I didn't do anything that I was not suppose to. Even though I most certainly look at her in a way I'm not suppose to.

"Good Morning," she mumbles and still sounds pretty sleepy. I look at her again and hope that she didn't notice how I look away. 

"Good Morning." Carly smiles at me and slowly sits up. Then she does something that makes even the butterflies in my stomach that never rest when she's with me stop for a second. She stretches out one and runs her long fingers through my hair. I don't know if she does it because they are messy or because of something else but my brain constantly repeats the first thing while the salsa butterflies say the second one. Her hand stops at my cheek and her eyes lock with mine; just like in my 'what-if' scenario and I don't want it to stop.