and pray that I land one in the city to be close to him?
I sit at my desk and open my computer, applying for every graphic design job I can find all around the country. I want to keep my options open. That only takes about an hour since I only have to fill out the info once and the computer imputes it into every app for me. When that’s done, I sit on my bedroom floor and start to wrap presents. I look around my room and notice that I’m not exactly feeling the Christmas spirit. This is one of my favorite times of the year. I shouldn’t let this thing with Carson bring me down. I get up, light some Christmas-scented candles, put on some Christmas music, and change into my red, white, and green pajamas I wear every year to wrap presents in. I pull the hood over my head, hoping to hide away, mostly from myself and my feelings. I wrap the gifts I bought for my mom, Carson’s mom and stepdad, and of course, Carson. Then I sneak out to the living room and put them all beneath the tree.
Walking back into my room, I feel alone and sad. Pity party at its finest. I walk over to the window and try willing myself to peek. Just a little peek. I move the curtain slightly to the side and peek out the window. His curtains are open and the bedroom light is on. He’s sitting at his desk, looking at the blue light of the computer screen. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looks handsome sitting there, focusing. His dark hair is styled neatly and his jaw is covered in thick, dark stubble. I see him look down and pick up his phone. He looks at it, puts it down, and then looks over at my window. I quickly move to the side so he can’t see my eye peeking out at him.
Slowly, I release the curtain and back away, sitting on my bed. My phone dings and I pick it up to read the message.
Carson: I’m here when you want to talk. I’m not giving up on this.
His message makes me feel guilty. I should just go over there and talk to him, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I want. I want him. I want him to want me for me, not for some character I’ve been playing or some mask I’ve been wearing. I guess this is all my fault. I should have just been honest with him from the start. I wasn’t and now I’m paying the price.
I drop the phone and sit up, daring another peek. I pull the curtain back slowly and see that he’s moved his chair from the desk to directly in front of the window as he gazes at my window, just like he did the night I danced for him. I move away from the crack in the curtain and go back to my bed. I lie down and look up at the ceiling. I take a deep breath and try to think of a happier time when things weren’t so complicated.
“Come on, Felicity. You’re so slow with those short legs.”
“Piss off,” I tell him, trying my best to catch up as we run across the backyard and to the forest behind our houses.
“You shouldn’t talk like that, you know?” he says, giving me a dirty look.
I laugh and roll my eyes. “I’m thirteen, dummy. It’s not like you don’t cuss.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t cuss. I just said you shouldn’t. I’m older and a guy.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Women are supposed to be polite, sweet, innocent,” he reminds me.
I snort. “Yeah, fuck a bunch of that shit. You know me and I ain't any of those things.”
“You’re never going to get a boyfriend with a mouth like that,” he says, leading me through the woods to the creek so we can swim.
“Who’s looking for a boyfriend? I’m not. Have you seen the guys I go to school with? Ugh, all skinny and smelly.”
“Smelly?”
I laugh. “Yeah, they’re favorite thing to do is tell fart jokes. It’s gross. Please tell me at some point, you boys grow out of that.”
He laughs. “Some of us,” he says, stopping at the creek. He kicks his shoes off and throws down his towel. Then he removes his shirt and my, oh my… Carson is