Nowhere In Particular // H.S.

Fifteen: Vegas?

I wouldn't describe myself as a jealous person. Sure, when I was six I may have sat in the mall with my arms crossed in front of my chest for three hours, upset that Pat was able to get new light up sneakers for school while I had to wear my old tattered ones, which had holes in the pink canvas from the year before.

And I guess when I was in fourth grade and a new girl named Katherine got Laurel's attention I pretended that I had a made a new friend as in an attempt to hide my jealously. My pretend friend was from another town of course, with a name I can't even remember now... probably something like Dahlia or Petunia, I'm sure it was a name of a flower. Laurel didn't believe it for a second.

In my defense, I was young at the time and still very much a child whose thoughts were immature and self-centered. I'd like to think I outgrew any of these jealous tendencies years ago, that I grew up into a rational, thoughtful, semi-adult.

Sure, sometimes I stare at the magazines in line at the grocery store, looking at the beautiful people on the covers and whishing I was more like them. Sure, there's times when I walk by a stranger and I can't help but feel like their life is so much more interesting than mine, that they a more put together, that they have everything figured out... but for the most part any jealously I had in my young, immature, mind has faded away.

Or so I thought.

I've been staring, or more like glaring, their way for the last hour. I thought by now they would have sensed my heavy stare and the jealousy steaming from every part of my body. But they haven't blinked an eye. In fact, they only laugh harder, smile brighter, touch Harry's arm more often, letting it linger longer than should be socially acceptable, like they haven't a care in the world.

It's not completely their fault. Harry's only feeding into the ultra-friendly conversation. It's like he lives for the batted eyelashes and giggles that are obviously not genuine. Even he doesn't seem to notice my eyes that are trying to set fire to the girl's shiny blonde hair that are sitting next to him. This is weird to me because I know I'm not doing a very good job of hiding it and he typically picks up on my emotional cues quicker than I have time to even attempt to control them.

We didn't start out like this. We got going early in the morning, anxious to get on the road again and headed east. It felt strange leaving the small town that we had spent the last two days in. It held a lot of weight and made a world of a difference in the short amount of time we called it "home".

It's where I got drunk for the first time. It's where Harry kissed me for the first time, and then kissed me again the next morning. It's where I woke up in his arms, where he brushed the hair out of my eyes when I feel back asleep on his chest, where he kissed the top of my head as he whispered funny stories of fishing and conquering his sickness of the boat. It's where we played bingo and met Carol. Where Harry won way too much money for that bingo game and then insisted on buying the fanciest meal we could possibly find in town, only to instead stuff our faces with burgers and milkshakes in the parking lot of a drive in.

That tiny town, somewhere in the middle of Nevada that I'm not even sure of the name of, it changed a lot. It held a lot of happiness and I thought for sure it would stay with us as we waved goodbye, stepping onto yet another bus.

Harry was sitting next to me at one point. He even held my hand for a good part of it. It made my heart ache, in a good way, but I found it confusing at the same time. It felt nice and I wasn't as nervous about it as I thought I would be but I also felt conflicted with what it all means. I don't know where I stand with Harry.

We haven't talked about it. I'm honestly not sure how to approach the whole thing. He tends to be the one to initiate the slightly awkward, but needed conversations and since he hasn't said a word, I feel myself second guessing everything even more.