Forelsket.

A week later, I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror. Piles of clothing lay behind me, discarded. Lindsay had a party to go to – meaning, I had to go too, or she wouldn’t be able to. So I knew I had to go, because if I didn’t, it would be my fault Lindsay couldn’t go. She would be so angry, she would dislike me even more. And I was scared of that. I’d always longed for a good relationship with her – I wanted us to be close, but everything in the world seemed opposed to that. So, I took every opportunity I could to do her a favor, and I figured this was one of them.

I try really hard to be selfless, and I’m not sure if I ever come across as so. But I care little for myself, and I would, any day, put my sisters’ life above mine. Because she may not know it, or care too much, but I love her. Our bond may be weak, and it may be frail, but I would carry the weight of her problems on my shoulders if she had ever confided in me.

So, here I am. Attempting to find something ‘party-like’ to wear in my wardrobe, so as not to embarrass my sister too much in front of all those people. But, I had nothing. I spent the better part of my life buying clothing to cover myself up – I didn’t even own a dress, or a pair of shorts for that matter.

My door swings open, hitting the opposing wall. Lindsay is standing in the frame, wearing this black, hardly knee-length dress. But she’s got the body, the legs to support not only her dress, but her heels – black, suede, ankle height. Her hair flows naturally over her shoulders. Her hands were on her waist, her head cocked as she looks at me. She rolled her eyes.

“Really?” She snorted, “You’re still getting ready?” I shrugged, jutted out my finger behind me to the pile of clothes.

“That’s all I have,” I nearly whispered. Her hands fall from her hips and she stood up straight.

“I figured,” She grumbled, “You always bought the ugliest clothes. I don’t know why. You’ve got the body for clothes.” She walked over to me, grabbed me by the wrist, “And you are not coming in jeans and a tank.” She pulled me over to her room, sits me on her bed. All the while, I’m wondering what the big deal is. Why do girls dress up like this for stupid, teen-age parties? No one remembers these outfits anyways. It’s hardly as important as it might seem at the moment. But I bit my tongue, and let her pull me into her room. I dreaded anything she would pull out for me – I knew that I would already. I wasn’t Lindsay – and as much as I wished I could be like her – free – I wasn’t.

“Don’t you have that, like, one sun dress?” She sighed, flipping through articles of clothing in her room. “You wore it, like, once and then just didn’t anymore.” I shrugged, and fiddled with my thumbs. I’d had that dress for at least a year before I wore it – that time I went with Jared to see his band practice. Even as I wore it, I wasn’t completely sure about it. But sometimes, I just get these moments where I actually want to look good or at least okay. Mostly, I don’t pay any mind to it.

“I do,” I nodded. She stood up, and swirled around to look at me.

“Wear that?” She suggested, “I’m sure you’d hate all of my clothes.” At least, I thought, it was mine. The though made me somewhat more comforted, so I backed out of Lindsay's room and shuffled into my own, trying to find that stupid sundress. Once I did, I slipped it on right away, pulling the brown braided belt around my waist. Lindsay came in then, with a pair of boots. She held them up to me, with her brows raised.

“Thought this would work?” I had my own boots, I wanted to tell her. Just one pair, and I would have worn them, though they were Doc Martens and probably wouldn’t have matched anything I was wearing. I smiled at her, grateful she was actually being nice, and took the boots from her hand, slipping them on. They were hardly worn – like most of the things she owned. When I looked up at her, she smiled.

“You look cute,” She said, “But you cant keep your hair in that weird bun. Lets do something with it.” I shook my head and took my hair down – the bun having made it wavy.

“I’m just going to leave it,” I told her, “I don’t feel like fussing over anything.” She squinted her eyes at me.

“Not even make-up?” I smiled small, and shook my head.

“Not even that. I’ll be here,” I said, “Call me when you’re ready.” She rolled her eyes, but agreed. She informed me she would only be a few more minutes. While she was gone, I couldn’t understand why she was putting on make up if she was going to swim. It wasn’t logical to me, and I might have spoken up if I wanted to ruin her good mood. Which, I didn’t.

I sat on my bed, my fingers picking at the fabric of my dress. I used to really love dresses – I wouldn’t buy them unless they flared when I spun.

“Why don’ ye go put on tha’ dress fer me, Peanut?” He rasped, “the one I like.”

I bit on my lip hard, trying by best to keep the memory away from the front of my brain. Just as it began to resurface, Lindsay bounced into my room. I jumped, looked up. She had this big smile on her face, and clicked her heals on the floor.

“I love these!” She squealed, bringing both her hands on to her hair to hold it back as he looked down toward her shoes. “and, I’m ready. Let’s go! Tim’s waiting.” I hesitantly rose from my bed, but my hand shook with nervousness, knowing I had to get passed grandpa – that I was wearing a dress. He was, after all, the very reason I stopped wearing dresses.

Lindsay ran from my room, the way people run in heels – awkward and kind of slow. She didn’t carry a purse, and only tucked her cellphone into the front of her dress. I sighed, and turned my cell phone off before setting it onto my dresser and slowly following her out of the door. By the time I got downstairs, she was already explaining to mom and dad that we might not be coming home. It made my stomach flop anxiously, to think of that.

Upon my entrance, my father turned toward me, and gave me this silly look. I smiled, threw the same look back, and he returned to listening to Lindsay. I didn’t listen while she was talking – mostly because Grandpa was staring at me, and I was trying my best to concentrate on the carpet beneath my boots (well, mine for the night, at least), I gnawed on my lip. My eyes watered from memories – from hurt. The way he breathed on me. the way his hands slid up that dress when I was little. I felt my legs burn where he touched them that day.

Another squeal from Lindsay tugged me back to earth and way from the past. I looked at her just as she was turning toward me, staring at the screen on her phone.

“Okay!” She said, “Tim’s here, lets go, Liese!” She went to reach for my arm, and I felt her finger tips skim against my skin before I rapidly tucked my arms behind my back and folded them together.

“Okay,” I agreed. Just so that she was distracted by the way I moved away from her. She didn’t seem to notice anyways, but skipped along to the front door, pulling it open with a force I’ve never seen from her. I could almost laugh – it was as though she’s never been to a party. And I knew that wasn’t true. Hell, my parents knew it wasn’t true. Waved at them before I disappeared through the kitchen, and picked up the gift I’d gotten for John. I didn’t know him well – but it was his birthday after all. And I’d spent all week making it.

I shut the door behind me, walking into the humid air. I walked to Tims car thinking: I’m not supposed to be at this party.



When we arrived, Lindsay eagerly grabbed Tims hand and dragged him into a house I’ve never been to before. I heard music, people and smelled something being cooked on the barbecue. I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath, clutching Johns’ present to my chest self consciously. I only opened my eyes when I was ready, and saw Jared not too far away, laughing and pushing someone that looked familiar. Though, I couldn’t remember the name. I slowly walked over to the backyard, where the gate was open and Jared was standing.

I carefully inspected the scenery – the backyard was nice. A pool, a small patch of grass. An older man (who looked startlingly a lot like John) was cooking on the barbecue. I only saw a few familiar faces from the get-together Jared had, but my hands shook at the realization of new faces. Not many – but any amount was enough to get me nervous.

I felt almost un-welcome as I walked over to Jared, and stood silently beside him.

“Liese!” He screeched, “you’re here.” I nodded, and looked across from us – to that boy whos name I couldn’t quite place.

“Remember Eric?” Jared continued, and a part of my brain seemed to light up and I smiled.

“Kind of,” I whispered, “hi.”

“Hey pretty lady,” Eric wiggled his eyebrows up and down jokingly, and I choked out a laugh through my red cheeks. To avoid anymore embarrassment, I turned to Jared.

“Where’s John?” My voice shook. More-so than when I said his name. “I-I got something for him.” I was speaking so quietly, Jared had to lean down toward me to hear me clearly. He straightened out and I watched him shrug.

“No idea, actually.” I nodded and sighed, turning to go into the house – put the present somewhere. As I was walking away from Jared, I realized I’d forgotten to ‘excuse’ myself from the situation. Loud in my ears was the sound of the wrapping crumpling between my shaking fingers, and I felt awful. I felt like I should leave.

I found the sliding door and opened it, just as an older lady was coming out with buns for the barbecue. I stepped aside, and threw her a smile.

“Thanks, hun!” And she was gone. I bit on my lip and walked inside the house, spotted where another, couple of wrapped presents were, and placed mine behind the rest of them. I looked around – the room was empty and I felt like I wanted to stay in there for the rest of the time. And I almost had, but I heard the people outside and I suddenly felt inspired. I wanted to make friends for once, and I knew I was going to have to start somewhere, sometime, with someone other than Jared. Before I got to step out, Lindsay and Garrett walked in, grabbed the bigger wrapped present and made their way back outside. Garrett stopped and looked at me.

“Come on,” he nodded his head toward the backyard, “John’s there now.” I nodded and followed him outside, more people passed me and came out with their presents. I contemplated going back and getting mine, but I felt embarrassed. A bunch of them pitched in and got him these cowboy boots, and others got him CD’s. So I stayed put and watched as he smiled and thanked them all. And, just like that, it was time for a late lunch.



For a majority of the night, I was watching the party happen around me. The people moved and it seemed like I stayed put – like I wasn’t really there, but I could see everything happening. Jared didn’t talk to me, the only thing I’d been asked all day was what drink I wanted and what I wanted to eat. I stood in a corner like the unsocial person I am, and simply watched. I supposed a part of me thought I could have a good time by simply watching it.

My eyes scanned around the backyard before I actually spotted John. He was smiling a bit, and he was sitting alone on the porch, cupping a beer in his hand. I didn’t feel so bad then, because he was watching everyone too.

It took all I had to sit a few feet away from John. Even as I tried to calm myself, I knew it was an impossible task, so I stopped trying. And I stopped trying to think about it, too. I felt his eyes on me, so I turned to him and smiled – it felt tight and nervous and I hoped he wasn’t good at reading faces. I turned my head back to the grass in front of us, noticed how skinny and long his legs were, and smiled secretly to myself – then scolded myself for thinking that way. I ran the palms of my hand against the blades of grass, like I was trying to search for words to say – something to ask. I realized then, that I didn’t really know anything about him. Except that his birthday was August 4th, and he was in a band with Jared, and he liked cowboy boots, and (judging by his top) Tom Petty.

So, I said the only thing that came to mind – I supposed I was desperate for a conversation. Which was odd for me. I hated that I found him intriguing.

“Happy birthday.” I kept my voice light, because I knew if I went any bit higher, it would come out shaky, just like my stupid hands. And heart. And stomach.

“Thanks!” I heard the smile in his voice. And it was silent for another awkward minute before I decided I’d suck it up (which, isn’t at all like me).

“How old are you now?” I felt like I should’ve sang it – like I should’ve been in the Barney cast. I almost wanted to face-plant because of it.

A lazy grin spread across his face before he took a swing of his beer and said, “not old enough to drink. But, old enough to live.”

Whatever that meant. I didn’t really say anything to that, just smiled to try to ignore the crazy feeling in my stomach when he smiled at me. I hated that this was happening – but the feeling was something I hadn’t really experienced. And, I hate to say it, I wanted to. So I stayed put beside him, and made the decision that I wouldn’t leave until he did.

I watched him as he downed the rest of his beer and scrunched up his face while he gulped it down.

“God,” he laughed, “beer tastes like dicks and piss.” I laughed – a real one. My head thrown back and all. When I looked at him, he was smiling at the sky.

“Then why do you drink it?” He shrugged at my inquiry and turned to me only to smile wider. My heart clenched inside my chest. I think I almost forgot to breathe.

“Gives me confidence to do this -” He stood up, and I watched him stretch his hand out in front of me. Then I got nervous again and just waited until he put it down. Though, he didn’t. But he continued to talk:

“Wanna dance?” The grin on his face was harmless, I knew. But inside his head was the most important thing – and it was the only thing I couldn’t read. I frowned at him, and shook my head while I stuffed my hands into my lap to stop them from shaking so badly.

“Come on,” he urged, “it’s my birthday.” He jutted his lower lip out in a pout. I felt guilty – but not enough to give in.

“I know,” I whispered, “I’m sorry. It’s just - ”

“Oh, fuck,” he interrupted, “I’m sorry, Annaliese. I forgot you don’t like touching people.” I nodded, but I swore all the curse words I knew at myself in my head. I wanted to dance with him – why wasn’t that enough? I made a move to change the subject before he made a move to leave.

“I did, uh,” I stuttered, “get you something, though.” I managed to look up from him from where I was sitting and he had his hands to himself now, as well as a grin. He looked a bit confused though, so I shrugged.

“It’s not much – not like those boots they all bought you.” I stuck my thumb out in front of me to the group of people, in a very rough direction of where Jared and the others were dancing and laughing and being friends.

“Well,” He said, standing straight and puffing his chest out, “The prince is ready for his gift. Onwards!” he pointed to the house, but his body became relaxed again as he laughed. I smiled to myself, my cheeks heating as I stood from the ground and followed John as he walked into the house. I carefully moved passed him and made my way to the table. And passed the wrapped gift to him, and right after began to play with my fingers nervously.

“I-I mean,” I stuttered, “I don’t, you know, k-know you? But Lindsay said you like that stuff so…” It was silent except for him tearing the wrapping paper apart. He held the insignificant present in his hands, a smile spreading across his face.

“I love dream catchers,” he laughed. “thanks, Annaliese.”

“I- uh – I made it.” I had spent a while making it, and messed up a lot and had to remake it. I didn’t know why I didn’t just go and buy it, like a normal person. Instead, I was on the Internet trying to find patterns.

I looked at him, to see if I could see if he actually liked it. His eyebrows shot up, and he grinned.

“Yeah?” I nodded, “Come on, I’m going to hang it.” I swear my heart kept on skipping beats as we walked up the stairs, he passed a younger boy and shoved him.

“Didn’t get your present, Ross.”

“Well, I got you a butt-plug, but then I remembered you had one already, so…”

“Fuck off,” John chuckled and turned the knob on (what I assumed) his bedroom door. The bed was unmade, there were a few pieces of clothes on the floor – but Lindsays room was worse. He walked over to his dresser, found a thumb tack and looked at me.

“Where should I put it?” I shrugged.

“Shouldn’t it be above your bed?” He smiled, leaned over his bed and hung my present in place. I felt this odd sense of accomplishment, that almost out-weighed the nervousness.

He turned to me, grinned, “I’ll let you know if it works.” I nodded and he continued, “We should get back to the party. Thanks again, Liese.” Liese. I mean, it wasn’t special, I supposed. Jared called me that. Lindsay did, too. My heart pounded in my ears as I followed John back out into the party, and he became a part of it while I watched them all.

I smiled to myself, sat back and really enjoyed the scene in front of me.

That night, I felt good.