Thread

Michael

Written in Michael Thatcher's journal

Time: 11:23 PM, 10/22/13

When: After he had gotten home from driving Clarice to her house, collapsed on the bed, and grinned  like an idiot.

"Clarice Goodman is absolutely flawless. 

Let's start from the morning. This might be a crazy long entry here. 

So I arrived at school and kissed Clarice on the nose so I could see her crinkle it like I love. The day passed normally, lots of notes and texts; enough to make me wonder how either of us is still passing our classes with flying colors. 

So school ends, and I can tell that Clarice is a little anxious about the Addison. Not about being with me, just about going out to a fancy, expensive place that I'm paying for. Not that it mattered, though. I was taking the girl of my dreams out to a restaurant I knew she'd enjoy.

I drove her home so she could change from our school's uniform, I agreed to pick her up in an hour or so, and I went home to change as well. 

When I got back and she stepped out of the door, I had to stoop down to the ground to pick my jaw back up. 

She was stunning. 

She was wearing a form-fitting grey dress that was cinched at one side at the bottom. It brought out her eyes, and her beautiful hair was curled and cascaded over her shoulders. She looked unbearably uncomfortable in her black heels, so I carried her bridal-style from her door to my car. We got in and her eyes we alight with excitement. We drove to the Addison while we talked about the Great Gatsby, since I'd said that the whole restaurant had a classy 20's feel to it. Needless to say, she's as fascinating as ever.

The whole night was perfect. 

I pulled her chair out for her and we ordered drinks and we just... talked. It all felt so right, so easy. I don't have to keep up a facade when I'm with Clarice. I don't need to be strong when I'm around her; she's strong enough for the both of us. So determined and cool. I love her coolness; it's the first thing about her that caught my eye. So it's really fantastic when that coolness shatters to reveal excitement and longing underneath. And I'm the only one who gets to see it. 

We talked about everything under the sun. Books, people, current events, candy, movies, everything. And with every word, I fell more and more for this wonderful girl. 

I just pray that I'm not falling in with some biased, romanticized version of the real Clarice. 

If I am, I can't see it, obviously. She's too perfect. Too wonderful. 

The part of the night I remember most was this:

She told me she could see me.

"I would hope so," I had said. "You're sitting right across from me."

But with that cool look in her eyes, she leaned closer, and with mouth's corner tilted up, she said the one thing that made me know I loved her:

"Admit it. You aren't like they are. You feel and dream; you have ambitions. You're repulsed by their ignorance, their utter disrespect for life, for love. As Gatsby's Nick Carraway says, you are within and without. You want to be as mindless as they, but you can't" The sweet accent of hers lilted the 'a' into a soft 'ah' sound. She pointed to her head. "It's all up here. And you can't turn that off."

"You're quite brave to say that on our second official date." I said.

"Only because I'm the same way."

She sees into my very soul, my heart and all its ambitions, and she still likes me. She's the first.

So I brought her home and I kissed her on her porch. She said she had a wonderful time. 

I can't wait to see her again and I've barely left her prescence."