Sanity // s.m. [IN EDITING]

[3]

"Well, I.. I.. um, I better like, get back to work," she gestured towards the mural, scrambling for a sentence.

"Right, um, yeah," I nodded, "um, it was nice to meet you, Elliot."

Just as I begin turning back towards the door, I hear her voice behind me.

"Elle," she corrected me.

She must've seen the confused look on my face because she smiled brightly and mumbled, "Call me Elle."

I leaned against the door frame, scratching the back of my neck and struggling to look away from her. She was frigging adorable.

"It was nice to meet you, Elle."

She blinked twice. "And you, Shawn."

As I started to leave I mumbled something about how I'll see her later, then I shuffled out the door, letting it close behind me.

I know that I should've started down the hall and returned to where my Mum waited for me in line to review my student schedule, most likely pushed far past patience by now.

But what did I do?

I peaked through the small window of the art room door yet again, and watched as she plugged in her earbuds and switched to a song that must give her a happy feeling-- because she began painting with a swing in every move she made.

Music really does move people. Elle understood that, too.

So after school started, and Elliot was still using the art room for her mural, I made an effort to stop by every day. Each time I visited it seemed to get better and better, and after about a week of frequent visits and chats she eventually finished, and I didn't have an excuse to see her anymore.

But the mural hanging above my head as I walked up the stairs was an everyday reminder that I had to.

She went to the middle school down the street from the high school, and they got out thirty minutes later than us, so after school I would walk down there and sometimes walk her all the way back to her house.

She told me about everything she loved in the world. Music, art, her brother, her mom, gummy bears, good books, strawberry iced tea, God, and people like me, who are nice when others aren't.

I didn't really see myself that way, because that was the first comment like that, that I've ever received. But she would know, if it's me. I was practically her best friend at that point.

One time we were walking home and made a wrong turn without realizing, and ended up God knows where, and soon it got dark and we were talking on the sidewalk but I complained about not being able to see her face so we huddled under the lamppost.

And I told her the light really complimented her eyes, and she told me there was a moth on my head and I freaked out, but there really was no moth-- and then we kissed.

And it was the first time I'd ever kissed her. Obviously I liked her, but I had no idea it was going to happen. I just couldn't stop it.

Then we called her brother, Corey, to come pick us up. And I can't ever forget that night. Ever. No matter how hard I try. I can't forget Elliot Johnson.

I never thought I would want to.

*

"What are you doing here?" I ask, shocked. I had given the guitar back to the man who had originally played it and told him to keep all the money that people put in the case, and now I stand against the wall, Elliot across from me.