Living With Jared Padalecki

18/ dark star

     I brush it off; she doesn't know me, and I really would not like her to, so it doesn't really matter. However, I give Jason a look laced with shock and disbelief.

     "What?" He wonders aloud, sipping on his coffee.

     "Are you crazy?" He's totally oblivious to what I am talking about, which concerns me a bit. Does Jason not know how unbelievably gorgeous he is, or how whenever he enters a room, every female head turns in his direction to check him out? "She was totally giving you the 'fuck me' eyes," I say, leaning forward and lowering my voice so as to not attract attention with my foul language.

     He nearly spits out his drink. "She was not!" Despite what he says, a faint blush rises to his cheeks, and he looks away from me.

     "Oh yeah, she totally was," I reply, smirking a little. There is something about my current behavior that confuses me, I am never this blunt or comfortable around anyone, let alone an attractive guy who I may or may not have a crush on. But I guess my feelings for him have made me more confident, and a bit more crude whilst using humor. "She wants you so bad," I add.

     "Charlie!" He exclaims, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. I should be, too, but I suppose that maybe I enjoy watching Jason get all flustered and defensive. It's very cute, if I must say. However, he does seem rather uncomfortable, so I decide not to tease him about it any further, and instead just sit quietly and fumble with the secondary-colored bracelets that line each of my wrists, the black and blue watch in perfect place with them. I like the bracelets, for they give me a sense of security, like my hat.

     There's another reason I wear them too, not just for the sake of the pretty colors, but because they cover up the ugly—

     "I had a nice time the other day," Jason comments, interrupting my thoughts. I respond with a soft smile, one that does not correspond correctly with the snarky attitude I had on before. My previous thoughts have thrown me off guard a little, and I am momentarily trying to put the wall back up— the one that keeps all of my feelings from oozing out of me.

     "Me too," I say, my voice somehow smaller and more fragile than I expected it to come out, and it surprises Jason a little, which I can easily figure out from his facial expression.

     Suddenly, I feel kind of stupid, for trying to get close to him. I should not have even tried, because in the end he is probably just going to break my heart and go find another, someone much more suited for him than me, like that red-headed waitress. At this thought, I almost cringe, as I involuntarily imagine him with her.

     "I'm gonna hit the ladies' room," I murmur, trying to keep my snarky attitude present so he doesn't suspect something is going on. I get up and head for the back, where I saw signs for the bathrooms when I came in a little earlier. A few people turn their heads and watch in amusement, which only fuels my panic and anxiety. I nearly sprint to the door, trying to avoid their gazes as I step inside. Thank god, no one else is in here. I shut the door and lock it, hoping that I will only be in here for a minute or so.

     I feel the oxygen try to leave my lungs as I sulk back against the cold wall, sinking defeatedly against the floor, which is as equally as cold as the wall. Good thing I only ever wear jeans.

     My eyes fall shut, and my heart pounds hard, even painfully against my chest, as if it is trying to break out of it's cage. This is it, I can't help thinking. I'm going to die, right here, right now, on the bathroom floor at Starbucks.

     At the small fear I have of dying before I intend to, I try harder to suck in some air, but it seems useless at this point. After about a minute and a half, tears are rolling down my face, and I desperately attempt to wipe them away, but it doesn't help much, because they are coming faster than they are going.

     At this moment, I vow never to tell Jason about this, ever. If he finds out what an enormous mess I am, he would no doubt want nothing to do with me, especially since there are plenty of other girls out there, ones that aren't as broken as me, and ones that are thin and beautiful and...more feminine, in a sense.

     Really, I don't think I have ever even worn girls' clothes. My wardrobe is filled with jeans (not the skinny kind either), loose t-shirts with band logos and book quotes on them, flannels, Nikes, and my trademark cap, which I always wear backwards. I highly doubt that any guy gave me a second glance as I walked down the hallways at school.

     And why would they?