A Proscriptive Relationship

A Proscriptive Relationship: o2

The shrill ringing of my alarm clock pierced the dead quiet of my room. It lasted only a split second before my hand collided with the annoying electronic, silencing it immediately. Cold bit at my now exposed hand and I quickly returned it to the toasty safe haven of under my comforter.

After a few moments of silence I groaned to myself. Even though it was freezing in my room, I had to get up and get ready. No more dreaming about the handsome, mysterious man that I had dragged to my house the week before. I took a deep breath and counted to three before seizing the edge of my comforter and tossing it off of me. The frigid air tempted me into going back under the covers, but I fought it.

My bare feet touched the freezing floor and I padded over to the air vent. I stuck my foot in front of the airway and pulled it back with a frown. The air conditioner was on, not the heat. Had my mom mistakenly turned it on instead of the heat? I exhaled and treaded wearily out of my room and into the hallway, which was only a few degrees warmer than my bedroom.

            "Mom?"

            I waited for an answer, and after a few moments of silence I tried again, walking towards my mom's bedroom. I paused outside of the door and knocked gently. Still no answer. I opened it and peered inside to see my mom dead asleep on the bed, her clothes still on. I sighed to myself and walked over to her closet, grabbing an extra comforter and covering her.

            "Geez," I muttered, frowning at her. "Don't overwork yourself this much."

            I exited the room and made my way to the thermostat. My mom had indeed turned the air conditioning on instead of the heater. I turned the knob in the opposite direction and set it to a very warm temperature. After that I stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower.

The warm water felt relaxing on my back and I lingered a little longer than I should have. My thoughts were preoccupied about the umber haired man. Who was he? Would I be able to see him again? It was incredibly frustrating that he wouldn't at least tell me his name!

When I was done washing my hair, I hopped out of the shower and briskly dried off my body and towel-dried my hair as best as I could. I wrapped a towel around my head and body and made my way back to my bedroom. It was my last first day of school— and I wanted to look cute. Finally I decided on an outfit— a simple pair of washed jeans, a black tank top, and a light blue plaid shirt that I knew would bring out my eyes well.

When I was done getting dressed I went to my kitchen to eat a quick breakfast. After I finished I slipped on my low-top converse, and slung my backpack over my shoulders, stopping in the bathroom briefly to apply light make-up and brush my teeth. In the middle of rinsing, my phone started vibrating. I quickly swished the water in my mouth and spat it into the sink, wiping my mouth on a towel before answering the phone.

"Morning," I greeted, trying not to yawn.

"Morning, Holly!" my best friend of six years, Casey Rivers, returned sounding bright and chipper. "Are you almost ready? I'm outside your house now."

"Yep, I'll be out in a moment."

"Kay. See you soon," Casey responded and I heard a click.

I closed my cell phone and stuffed it in my pocket, hurrying out of the bathroom and down the hallway. I took the stairs two at a time and stopped in the kitchen quickly to write a note for my mom. Finally I snatched my house keys off the key hanger and flung on a jacket before I exited my house.

Casey was waiting on the steps. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back and blew gently in the breeze as she blew on her hands and rubbed them together to keep them warm. She turned when she heard the door open, her brown eyes lighting up excitedly. "Hi," she greeted me, the moisture of her exhale creating fog in the air, her cheeks a rosy red.