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Some months ago, if I told myself that my head is spinning just because of a girl, I wouldn’t believe myself. Especially if I told this girl was you, an annoyingly cute girl that came to me with a stupid pun when we didn't even meet. You, the girl that I fought against and put a sword against my throat. You, that saw the good in me even if I didn’t. You, that always makes my days better with our close friendship. I guess I was a tough girl that didn’t care about feelings, or at least I was good at pretending it. But now you've been living rent free in my head ever since I got you in it.
And it’s hard to admit it. Damn, when I first noticed that I cared way too much about you than everybody else I panicked. I tried to deny it, to put some space between us, but I think about your smile every minute , so even apart you were in my head. Also you worried about my weird behavior and I couldn’t tell you the real reason, afraid I’d risk our friendship by telling you my feelings, and it hurt so bad lying to you, even if it was the easiest thing to do to anybody else.
So I got used to this. Used to hide what I feel and act normal around you. Alright, maybe I extended too much of our touches when we were near, admired every angle of you and went all the way to see your lips in that always so adorable smile. But I’m almost sure you didn’t notice, because you also do this and more and it’s completely friendly.
And what I want more than to see you smile, is to make you smile. So when you texted me saying that you got a bad grade, 7.3, I knew I had to do something. Okay, for me that wasn't a bad grade, I would go down on my knees and thank Time and Fate for this, but I’m talking about you, and this is a bad grade for Chloe's standards. Laying on my bed, as I’m waiting here for you , I wonder what could raise you up.
Then I remember a song you’ve been listening non stop for the last week: Put the Record On, from Kylie Camelot. It's all about a fun musical time with the person you are falling for. Going through the lyrics in my head, it clicks. I could recreate this.
I play this song once, going for other Kylie Camelot songs after, already knowing this one would be on loop, and then I start my staring contest with the ceiling. I think about what could help me make you happy. All the times you helped me get out of the pit. All the details that made your life lighter. I could spend forever dopey smiling about this wondering about how much good we could do to each other. However, you said you'd be here soon . I don't have a lot of time so I leave my bed, full of energy. I look around, at the clothing pile in my bed, at the paints and pencils over a bunch of papers where I was trying to make sense of an art project and then at her well made bed. This mess isn’t going to help her relax, so for my plan to work, I guess I better clean my room. Well, it's our room, but my part is the messy one.
After some time putting everything in order, I sat on Chloe’s bed (because it was the nearest and maybe I liked more than I’d admit to being close to her things) and unlocked my cell phone. The group chat (composed by some artsy losers) was exploding in messages and a lot of them were tagging me. They were sending a lot of stupid photos, as if it would prove to me that I was losing a lot by dumping them this afternoon. So I sent a selfie of me, not paying attention to where exactly I was, with the text “Just waiting for Chloe”.
Obviously they teased me the hell out of it. All my friends, they know just how much I'm into you, so as there was no use in denying, I just sent a rolling eyes emoji.
I look at the clock and knowing your punctuality, you are going to be here in a few minutes. So, before you say "Hello" , I prepare everything that just gotta help me set the mood. Some snacks selected just for you and my cellphone playing “Put the Record On” made a perfect setting for you. For a moment, I froze. What if you have listened so much to this one that now you find it annoying? Whatever. If it's not , so tell me what's your favorite song. It doesn't matter which one, I'ma put the record on tonight.
I would not know the lyrics, so, go ahead and I’ll sing along, and even if the words are wrong, it's alright, tonight we’ll be fine. I swear you’ll be fine.
Before I’m ready (psychologically, because everything else is very put together or at least a hidden mess) you're tapping on my door. My heart, it hits the floor with that good anxiety related to being in love. It kinda feels like… ah… like my heart was tied in the tip of a cowboy rope that was being spun in the air.
It is scary but I liked it.
I jump from the bed, saying “Come in” like we always do to signal the other can enter. Just one of those little rituals that are born when you have a roommate.
It gives me hope my plan will work the way that a tired and non expressive face changes when you cross the door, giving place to confusing eyes searching for context and a small smile. You close the door, leaning on It. “I can't believe you're listening to this. You can't stand Pop.”
“Wrong. Some are good.” Specifically the ones that remind me of you.
“Who are you and what did you do to my Red?”
I roll my eyes, trying to give so much thought about being called ‘My Red's, although my ears already felt warmer than usual. “Stop complaining and just join me.” I say, holding both of your hands and pulling you to the center of the room. Once we are there, you're looking at me waiting for context, explanation. Then I realized my plan wasn't that well thought, I had no idea on what to do past this point.
“Join you on what?” You ask before I spiraled on possibilities of things to say.
“Well, I was cleaning my part of our room, but I guess I’m almost done and it's not needed in yours… So, I don't know.” I breathe in, hoping the following statement wouldn't hit so hard “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”
I know it hits the exact right amount when a smile grows on your face. “I want it too. Let me help with your things so we can relax together.”
Before I can tell you it's not needed, you are tying your hair in a ponytail. I saw you with it a thousand times, however it does not stop me to think about how pretty you can be with every hairstyle. “Thank you” it's all I can say.
I guide you on what we have to do: just to fold and hang some clothes that I just carelessly shove them into my closet. It's easy to get in the flow of the work, we're so in harmony doing simple and repetitive movements together, in a calming silence only filled by the song. At least until you start mumbling the lyrics, eventually changing to a normal volume. I can't help but to smile. Even though you're singing all off-key , it's so cute to see you moving your head at the rhythm. I know I won't ever get tired of hearing your voice.
As we finish, you get up and raise your hands to help me get up. Once we are at the same level, I take advantage of our hands still being linked to spin you in a messy waltz step. Or at least I suppose that's the origin. Anyways, one step takes to another and before I realized we are dancing, holding both hands, smiling, giggling and singing.
You say something about taking the music out of the loop so we can hear others too. You leave one of my hands to grab my phone, which was on a bed, but the other is still on mine, taking me with you. While you are scrolling through some songs I play with strands of your hair. You leave the cellphone on the sheets and turn your face to me.
I should be euphoric and anxious to be so close to the person I like, or feel nothing at all to be that close to a friend. But your effect on me is peculiar. It kinda feels like when I’m laying in my bed, warm and cozy, then a presence creeps in and I have no idea if it will cover with one more blanket or pull me outside of it. Your fingers (the ones in the right hand because the others are intertwined with mine) linger for a moment in my cheek, but they lay on my shoulder.
“Thank you” A simple happiness emanates through your smile and your eyes. In general, you are a happy person, but it fills my heart to know I was the reason for this one. You are no more sad, at least for now. “It meant a lot.”
A part of me begs for you to look at what you've done to me. To notice how flustered I am, how I’d follow you, how I would agree on anything. How your happiness is mine. How I’m smiling as an idiot like I always do when I’m with you. It shouldn’t be difficult, all my friends , except for you, they know just how much I'm into you.
So, before you say anything, let me work my courage, let me admit some feelings… Well, I guess you don't need to let me, I am the one that should allow myself to do it.
Oh, in reality you aren't able to let me because you can't read my mind. It was always up to me.
“You mean a lot.” I look down somewhat afraid of the weight of the word. I know you would mind me being a little more emotional, since you are always up to cheesy things. But I’m not. This need to cheer you up, to be a good thing in your life and to let you know all I feel… this need is new.
And yet, it’s so right.
I rest my forehead on your shoulder, finding safeness in your hair scent. Finding safeness in you to express my heart. “You mean more than I thought it was possible.”
The hand that was laying on my shoulder slides through my neck and then to my cheek, creating some space between us but at least it allows us to look at one another. To look at your big brown eyes and your perfect and contagious smile “You mean so much to me too”
“I do?”
Your thumb caresses my cheek and I feel myself melting into your touch. “More than you notice.” Your smile was so big and truthful that it squeezed the lower eyelid into such a cute and Chloe’s expression. “You do so much good, Red. Everyday you fill my life with care, stupid jokes, good music, silly remarks, teases and just that amazing feeling of being near the person you like.”
My heart beats faster “You like me?”
“I do.”
“Like how?”
“Like as…” You look down as you talk. I know you are paying attention to your mouth so I stare yours too, noticing a shy lip biting of hesitation.
As you hesitate, I expect, as anxious and excited. I’m aware of everything, one of your hands on mine and the other on my face, our bodies close like they have been countless times, but now in a new way. As you get closer, I close my eyes, hoping to feel your lips touching mine.
Instead, you press your lips in my cheeks. It’s soft and slow. Even after it ends, your mouth stills linger on the side of my face, your breath tickling my skin, your nose slightly rubbing on my cheekbones.
Our courage is betraying us, because no one dares to move more of our lips. But I place my free hand on the side of your torso. You squeeze my other hand harder.
When did the music become this slow? I’m not sure. We are just trapped in time, trapped in each other and trapped in the fear of messing up.
What a vague fear, what a stupid fear.
Fuck it.
Those are the only words that guide me while I throw those haunting feelings out the window. It’s not hard for me to tilt my head and to be the one to kiss you. It’s not hard for you to retribute, because it doesn’t take even two seconds for you to retribute and pull my face closer to you. It’s calm, it’s precise. Even if my heart is rushing, I don't need to hurry. You are here for me and I simply know you will be for a long time. It’s safe, as all of our embraces, as all the times we’ve been there for each other. I feel your lips curling in a smile and mine do too.
Above all, it’s right, because it’s you.
When that shy kiss ended and we looked at each other, there was a promise of more. A “more” that I wanted, that I was scared of, that I was excited. A step at a time, Red, or else you can get hurt, it’s what I tell myself. I know it’s stupid, I shouldn’t ever be afraid around Chloe and to be honest, I’m not. It’s just some weird self defense mechanism that we’ve been deconstructing together.
So for that moment, we press our foreheads together and slow dance with the music, and it’s enough for us.
Worries stay behind. Now it's just me, you and some record playing.