Surrender

Wednesday, August 17, 2013

6:00am

I've been running for almost three years. I don't remember what started it or what made it so enjoyable that I became so disciplined at it. I think a lot of it has to do with how frustratingly sheltered I am. I try to stay positive about it, but it's hard seeing the interactions and relationships the other students have at school that I'm not a part of. Not having internet access wouldn't have been a big deal in high school a few years ago, but now it's pretty much social suicide. Not that I care what anyone thinks. I won't deny it, I've had an overwhelming urge to look Harry up online. In the past when I had these urges to find out more about people, Taylor and I would just look them up at her house. But Taylor is on a transatlantic flight over the Atlantic ocean right now, so I can't ask her. Instead, I just sit on my bed and wonder. I wonder if he's really as bad as his reputation makes him out to be. I wonder if he has the same affect on other girls that he does on me. I wonder who his parents are, if he has siblings, if he's dating anyone. I wonder why he seems so intent on being angry with me all the time when we just met. Is he always this angry? Is he always so charming when he isn't busy being angry? I hate that he's either one way or the other and never in between. It would be nice to see a laid back, calm side to him. I wonder if he even has an in between. I wonder...because that's all I can do. Silently wonder about the hopeless boy who somehow burrowed himself into the forefront of my thoughts and won't go the hell away. I snap out of my trance and finish pulling my running shoes on. At least our tiff in the hallway yesterday was left unresolved. He won't be running with me today because of it, and I'm pretty relieved about that. I need the quiet time to myself today, more than any. I don't know why, though. It'll just be spent wondering about him. I open my bedroom window and crawl outside. It's darker than usual for this time of morning. I look up and see that the sky is overcast, a perfect indicator of my mood. I take in the direction of the clouds, then glance at the sky to the left, curious if I have enough time to run before the bottom falls out.

"Do you always climb out your window or were you just hoping to avoid me?" I spin around at the sound of his voice. He's standing at the edge of the sidewalk, decked out in shorts and running shoes. No shirt today. Dammit.

"If I was trying to avoid you I would have just stayed in bed." I walk toward him with confidence, hoping to hide the fact that the sight of him is causing my entire body to go haywire. A small part of me is disappointed he showed up today, but most of me is stupidly, pathetically happy. I walk past him and drop onto the sidewalk to stretch. I spread my legs out in front of me and lean forward, grabbing my shoes and burying my head against my knees-partly for the muscle stretch, but mostly to avoid having to look at him.

"I wasn't sure if you'd show up." He drops down and claims a spot on the sidewalk in front of me. I raise up and look at him.

"Why wouldn't I? I'm not the one with the issues. Besides, neither of us owns the road." I practically snap at him. I'm not even sure why. He does that staring and thinking thing again where his intense gaze somehow renders me unresponsive. It's becoming such a habit of his I almost want to give it a name. It's like he holds me with his eyes while he silently thinks, purposefully giving no tells in his expression. I've never met anyone that puts so much thought into their own responses. The way he lets things soak in while he prepares his own response-it's like words are limited and he only wants to use the ones that are absolutely necessary.
I stop stretching and face him, unwilling to back down from this visual standoff. I'm not going to let him perform his little Jedi mind tricks on me, no matter how much I wish I could perform them on him. He's completely unreadable and even more unpredictable. It pisses me off. He stretches his legs out in front of me.

"Give me your hands. I need to stretch, too." He's sitting with his hands out in front of me like we're about to play patty-cake. If anyone was to drive by right now I can just imagine the rumors. Just the thought of it makes me laugh. I place my hands in his outstretched palms and he pulls me forward toward him for several seconds. When he eases the tension, I pull back while he stretches forward, only he doesn't look down. He keeps his gaze locked on mine in his debilitating eye-hold while he stretches.