Wonderstruck
kendall
Kendall Knight laid flat on his back in bed, green eyes focused on the dents and imperfections that flecked the ceiling above him. He could hear the sounds of the cars on the freeway, their headlights dancing across the navy wall across from his bed. Soft snores erupted from the next bed, and Kendall glanced over to find his friend Carlos tossing and turning beneath his sheets, one leg dangling over the edge of the twin-sized bed.
Kendall wished he could get that kind of sleep, but his brain was filled with restless thoughts. A girl in a red dress, a Hollywood glamour queen with porcelain features, a stark contrast to the chocolate hue of her eyes and curls. He couldn’t shake her from his thoughts, the raspy edge to her voice, the way she threw back her head when she laughed. It was only one conversation at a lackluster party, encounters like those were a dime-a-dozen, but something about this particular one had him wrapped up.
She’d said her name was Camille, and he couldn’t get her out of his head.
She was the first girl in the building that had given him the time of day, that hadn’t immediately pursed her lips at him or rolled her eyes in rejection. Back home, he’d been pretty popular, but here, he was a nobody. Girls deemed him invisible because his face wasn’t on the billboards, he didn’t have a chart-topping song yet, and he didn’t have a Mercedes or BMW gleaming in the parking lot.
None of that seemed to matter to Camille.
Though they’d only had the one encounter, things felt oddly casual and natural between them. He hadn’t felt flustered, and his side of the conversation didn’t end up being him just grasping at words like straws in desperation.
There had been a spark in those brown eyes, a contemplative expression across her face as she listened to him talk. He knew that she was really listening, not just waiting for her own turn to speak.
He’d never really felt that way about a girl before, never experienced that sort of chemistry that hung in the air like static cling between them.
There had been one question that lingered on the tip of his tongue the entire time, a question he just couldn’t muster up the courage to ask. Throughout the conversation, he’d brushed it off. If she had a boyfriend, he would have been there with her, or she would have mentioned dating someone. Kendall didn’t want to come off as nosy or prying into her personal life, but he couldn’t help but wonder.
He couldn’t keep himself from imagining her being with him, and it made him feel a little foolish, lying in bed and thinking of her. He had a mind filled with what-ifs that wouldn’t allow him to sleep. A glance back towards the digital clock on the nightstand confirmed what he already knew: it was late, and he needed rest. As each minute ticked by, Kendall grew more frustrated.
He couldn’t wait to see her again.
I was never in love with someone else. I never had somebody waiting on me ‘cause you were all of my dreams come true.
Kendall wished he could get that kind of sleep, but his brain was filled with restless thoughts. A girl in a red dress, a Hollywood glamour queen with porcelain features, a stark contrast to the chocolate hue of her eyes and curls. He couldn’t shake her from his thoughts, the raspy edge to her voice, the way she threw back her head when she laughed. It was only one conversation at a lackluster party, encounters like those were a dime-a-dozen, but something about this particular one had him wrapped up.
She’d said her name was Camille, and he couldn’t get her out of his head.
She was the first girl in the building that had given him the time of day, that hadn’t immediately pursed her lips at him or rolled her eyes in rejection. Back home, he’d been pretty popular, but here, he was a nobody. Girls deemed him invisible because his face wasn’t on the billboards, he didn’t have a chart-topping song yet, and he didn’t have a Mercedes or BMW gleaming in the parking lot.
None of that seemed to matter to Camille.
Though they’d only had the one encounter, things felt oddly casual and natural between them. He hadn’t felt flustered, and his side of the conversation didn’t end up being him just grasping at words like straws in desperation.
There had been a spark in those brown eyes, a contemplative expression across her face as she listened to him talk. He knew that she was really listening, not just waiting for her own turn to speak.
He’d never really felt that way about a girl before, never experienced that sort of chemistry that hung in the air like static cling between them.
There had been one question that lingered on the tip of his tongue the entire time, a question he just couldn’t muster up the courage to ask. Throughout the conversation, he’d brushed it off. If she had a boyfriend, he would have been there with her, or she would have mentioned dating someone. Kendall didn’t want to come off as nosy or prying into her personal life, but he couldn’t help but wonder.
He couldn’t keep himself from imagining her being with him, and it made him feel a little foolish, lying in bed and thinking of her. He had a mind filled with what-ifs that wouldn’t allow him to sleep. A glance back towards the digital clock on the nightstand confirmed what he already knew: it was late, and he needed rest. As each minute ticked by, Kendall grew more frustrated.
He couldn’t wait to see her again.
I was never in love with someone else. I never had somebody waiting on me ‘cause you were all of my dreams come true.
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