lonely heart // c.h.

07. 'the brightest colored seafoam green crayon'

i don't even remember drinking this much, but if i'm drunk enough to be seeing things, then i must of downed a couple more shots than i thought i did.

because there was no way in hell that kenzie faye was sitting in my bed, in my sweatshirt, and nothing else than her lacy black underwear and a pair of knee-high socks, sipping coffee and working on her computer. she looked up at me and raised an eyebrow, looking like a mother about to scold her son for staying out past curfew, which i didn't think was possible for her to look like, seeing as she's a foot shorter than me and absolutely petite and little in everything she does or says. and yet, here i am, half scared that i'm about to get yelled at.

'so how much did you drink?' she asked, completely casual.

'um, a couple of beers?' i answered, although it came out as more of a question.

'mhm,' she hummed, ' and how much did you actually drink?'

i sighed and slumped my shoulders.  'a lot of beers.'

'that's what i thought.' she closed her computer and set it on the nightstand, and then folded her hands in her lap. the eye contact was slowly killing me. i flopped down onto the bed unceremoniously and laid my head on her lap, which apparently she wasn't expecting because a surprised "mmph" came out of her mouth. it was cute.

i turned on my back and got under the covers, my head still on her lap, but now i was warm and could see her face, which was a bright shade of red, though i have no clue why. she's probably hot.

i studied her face, everything from the top of her head to the bottom of her chin. she had dark brown hair that fell down in soft curls that framed her face, and it was parted down the middle like it always was, but i never realized it until now. her eyes were the brightest green you will ever see, it was like looking into a pool of that goo they have at the Nickelodeon award shows, but that's not exactly a compliment, so let's say it was like looking into the brightest colored seafoam green crayon in the box of 64 with the sharpener in the back. she had a button nose, and i wanted to put my hand up and boop it so. bad.  but i have a feeling that she wouldn't like that, so i didn't do it. her lips were really pink and plump, and they looked really soft. i wonder if i leaned up and put my lips to hers if she would kiss me back. probably not, i've been kind of a dick to her, and nobody wants to kiss a dick. or maybe they do and they're just weird. maybe she'd wanna kiss my di-

'if you say the words kiss and dick in the same sentence one more time, i'm throwing your head off of my lap and leaving.'

was i talking out loud? that's embarrassing.

' i don't know, i find it endearing. and my eyes aren't as bright as the Nickelodeon goo, and you were right. definitely not a compliment.'

i cringed and decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being.

'i like your hair. it looks soft. can i play with it?' she asked me out of the blue.

'yes.'

her fingers were immediately twisted in between black locks of hair, her nails lightly scratching my scalp. and it was absolutely heavenly. i can't even remember the last time someone played with my hair, i forgot how good it felt. i closed my eyes and relaxed into her, her free hand mindlessly tracing the tattoo on my collarbone. that felt good, too. i wanted to tell her what it stood for, but my mind was too fuzzy from the pleasure and alcohol to even form a coherent sentence. apparently, i was unable to form any sentence but this one:

'you look sexy in my sweatshirt.'

i wish i wouldn't've said it, but not because i didn't mean it, but because she completely froze when i said it, meaning the massaging stopped, and that was not good. but it was okay, because she quickly resumed, and i felt a ridiculous grin coming onto my face.

'thank you?' it sounded like a question, but i was too sleepy to ask her about it.

'alright cal, i think it's time we get you into bed. you need a good nights' rest to sleep off the alcohol.' she pulled her hands away from my hair and i immediately whined.

'but i don't want you to go,' i pouted. i probably sounded pathetic, but i didn't really care. i sat upright in the bed so that i could look at her straight on. 'can you stay until i fall asleep? please?' 

she sighed and crawled back to where she was sitting, and i snuggled back down into the covers. the moment she put her hands back into my hair, i knew that it was going to be hard for me to fall asleep on my own, without her here to play with it. she started to hum, ghost of you,  of course she was.

'i'm sorry about your brother. i never said i was sorry.' i said.

'it's okay cal, i'm doing better.'

'that's good, i don't like seeing you sad. it makes your eyes look red and teary, and that makes you look like you've been smoking weed, and i don't want people getting the wrong impression of you.'

i felt her huff softly before starting to hum again, amnesia this time. i vaguely remember her friend saying that her favorite solo of mine was in this song, but i don't have time to ask her about it before i'm drifting off into the deepest sleep i've had in months.

i didn't wake when she grabbed her stuff and left, leaving my sweatshirt neatly folded on the chair next to the closet, and a small smile on her face as she closed the door, leaving me to dreams of bright green eyes and pretty pink lips.