My Hayley

Okay, I’m officially losing my sanity. This morning I was telling myself to avoid her at all costs, and now I’m here, in her driveway, stalling the inevitable moment in which I will ring her doorbell and she may or may not answer.

Here we go. Now or never, Michelle, you can totally do this.

Three seconds later, I feel my feet running in the opposite direction. The pavement sends shocks through my sneakers and hurts my knees. I don’t know why I’m running, but I keep going, until I’ve put a safe distance between Hayley and I as if she were trying to hurt me.

Then again, maybe she was.

Is she serious? If I ring her doorbell, maybe a whole group of kids will jump out from behind her and laugh. Maybe I’m being Punk’d. Bottom line, I had no chance in hell with her, and we both knew it.

But then again…. She said there would be cookies…. And…. I like cookies….

My feet start dragging me back to her house, where I may just meet my demise in exchange for a little Dutch dessert. I really must get my priorities in order….

I ring the bell, wonder if it worked, ring again, and then mentally kick myself for ringing it twice. Her footsteps match my pulse as she runs towards the door and opens it wide. I look for some sign that this is all an awful prank, but she simply smiles and grabs my hand.

“You came.” She’s glowing.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak just yet.

“Come inside, Michelle.” There’s a new softness in her voice, like she’s nervous and eager but trying to hide it. The way she leads me through the house leaves me captivated, and all I can do is float along beside her.

“Shall we make the cookies now?” I curse my stupid accent. It sounds weird and out of place when I’m with her.

She giggles. “Yeah, I have the stuff out already. We just have to cut and bake them.”

We make the cookies quietly, and I’m not sure what to say. Our elbows bump together and I blush, feeling tiny sparks on my skin. I want to feel more of those sparks.

When she bends down to put the tray in the oven, I can’t help but stare. Her shirt rides up perfectly and I can see her soft, pale hips. I want to reach out and touch her, but of course I don’t.

“Okay, we have like ten minutes until they’re done. What do you want to do until then?”

What do I want to do? I want to kiss her, straddle her, and feel her lips on me. I want to run my hands through her gorgeous red hair and touch her pretty skin.

“I don’t know… um….”

She smiles, but I see a bit of disappointment from my answer. “Alright, follow me.”

We sit on the couch and she turns on the TV. There’s nothing worth watching, but I can’t seem to rip my eyes away from the screen. I feel a soft hand on my own and turn reluctantly to her.

“I-is it okay if I hold your hand?”

I nod. And then I blurt out four horrible words. “C-can I kiss you?”

She looks like she’s seen a ghost, but in a sweet, excited way. Her lips come towards mine and I lean closer, until they touch in one unforgettable moment and I feel the sparks everywhere, in my head, on my body, and when we separate it takes a few minutes for me to catch my breath again.

The timer rings, and we take the cookies out together. I’m in a daze. I barely say anything for the rest of the night.

After an hour or so of television and lovely, awkward handholding, my mother calls and tells me I have to leave. She says goodbye slowly and hugs me so sweetly, I melt in her arms again and I wish I never had to go. My lips meet with hers again before I’m out the door, walking down the block, looking back to see a tiny dot of vibrant red fading as the distance between us grows.