Gage Cilleti has just begun his junior year of high school, and is becoming more and more involved in his school's activities, considering he'd been playing baseball since he was just seven-years-old.
Elijah McCay has just dropped out of school, du...
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It's Friday night, finally. Earlier today, the day had flown by, with me being ultimately nervous for my date with Spencer—which would be happening in the next forty-minutes to an hour. We exchanged phone numbers after my team and I's game against a neighboring high school—which we won.
He'd been waiting for me outside of the boys locker room, hands tucked into his coat's pocket, as he waited patiently. When he saw me, he sent me a bright-eyed smile, and politely asked if our date was still occurring as scheduled. Of course, I said yes, and gave him my cellphone number.
To which he returned the gesture.
Rick gave me a ride home, before racing off to a date he'd been anticipating since earlier that week. It was refreshing that the both of us were single at the same time—because was there anything better than to be able to date around with your best bud?
Absolutely not.
I stepped out of the steamy tub, grabbing onto one of my plain towels, and wounding it tightly against my waist. It clung onto me snugly, as I brushed my teeth in the sink, flossing shortly after. I flashed myself with a crystal clear smile afterward—feeling grateful for the braces that I'd been forced to wear from ages thirteen to fifteen.
Because they had cleared off. I made my way into my bedroom, my feet padding along the thin carpet that was stuck to the flooring. It was still thirty-minutes until eight o'clock, when Spencer would be here to pick me up.
I sat down on the edge of my bedspread—still in my towel—as my cellphone chimed with a message. Pulling up the notification, I smiled dimly.
Hey, its Spencer, just wondering how you're doing :) The message read, and I was impressed. It was a short, but sweet text, that still had me feeling special because of the fact that he was simply just wondering about me. No guy had ever put in that sort of effort. Even if it was small.
But deep down, things still remained the same. I didn't feel anything romantic for him, no matter how hard I tried. And I hated myself for it.
I'm doing fine, how are you? I sent back confidently, standing up from the edge of my bed to rummage through my drawers in search of a nice pair of jeans to wear.
I'd settled on a dark pair, and a plain belt, when my cellphone chimed, once more. I'm putting on socks lol
Looking down at my cellphone with a frown, I couldn't help the laugh that left my parted lips. He seemed so much comfortable around me—especially considering how nervous he was when he asked me out. I would consider our situation progress.
Sorry that was weird, the next message wrote, and I was quick to type out a response.
That wasn't weird at all, I'm actually putting on socks, too. A curved smile stayed put on my lips, as I set my cellphone down, to pull a pair of plain white socks over both feet. And for some reason—the entire ordeal felt so silly after telling somebody.
