Love, Aristotle

chapter 10

I made my way past the kitchen, still feeling the sparks dancing on her skin against my touch. I walked into my bedroom and opened my closet, standing in front of it. I scanned the clothes, looking for something that would impress her. I knew she wasn't going to be there but I valued her thoughts on my clothes.

I picked out a black t-shirt, black jeans. Simple but somewhat nice. Most of my clothes varied between different shades of black and grey, she found that amusing. Well, since her wardrobe was the complete opposite. Filled with tight dresses and all colours. I was like a storm and she, the rainbow.

As I got dressed, I thought on things. I could see her afterwards, and sneak into her room. But it'll be late and she'll be exhausted. Besides, she probably had enough of me. She's probably still a little upset with me for what happened last night and needed some time to herself, away from the stress and worry. That was a better reason for me to go see her.

She'd most likely be asleep but I could pull her close and hold her, hoping I could take it all away by simply being with her. Perhaps my presence was enough.

Unless she didn't want to see me. Back and forth, arguments went on. I settled on letting her have a break from me and my bullshit.

My tongue slid across the inside of my cheek, as I pictured her sitting on her bed, burying her face in a book, losing herself in a world that didn't exist. Macy laid by her feet while she petted her soft fur. I laid down next to them, admiring her as she read, getting ignored. But I didn't care to disturb her. Instead, I pulled myself out of my thoughts and looked at myself in the mirror.

I ran a self conscious hand through my hair and thought back to all the times she called me handsome. It's not that I didn't believe her. It's that I didn't really know what I thought about myself. I hated what I saw, but I had a strange sense of confidence within myself and a superiority complex that added to my big ego, as she liked to call it.

In short, I didn't really give a shit what anyone thought about me. Except her, that is.

I slipped on the friendship bracelet she had gotten me back in freshman year and nodded in satisfaction. It was a small chain, silver with a little purple gummy bear charm. I had a strange liking to it because we picked it out together.

I've always liked to wear jewelry. The usual crucifix hanging from my leg ear and the many rings I've collected over the years. I put on my black leather jacket and grabbed my phone, sliding it into my pocket and exited the room.

Walking back down the stairs and to the door, a feeling formed in my chest, a bad one. Maybe it was just the nerves. I shook it off and with that, I was out of the house.

Getting into my car, I reversed out of the driveway and sped off down the streets. Turning on the radio, the songs that reminded me of her filled in the void. Where Is My Mind by Pixies played.

And that led to my next question, where is her mind? I already knew mine was on her, but where was hers? It wasn't because of the shit I pulled last night or the fact that I couldn't spend as much time with her as I wanted, but she seemed distant.

Whenever she was with me, I couldn't help but feel like she was somewhere else. She smiled and laughed but something felt different. I didn't like it. Neither did she. There were things on her mind troubling her. I noticed her expression would falter, her smile would fall. She hid it well but I knew her better.

I'd find out soon enough.

Pulling up to the house, bottles rested lazily on the lawn, scattered here and there. Couples made-out, people came and went. The place smelled like sins, cigarettes and sex. Despite not wanting to, I walked inside, feeling the nerves getting the better of me.