The feeling of closeness…of togetherness on this park bench. I feel it in my heart and my chest but he’s sitting there looking like an idiot and I love him for it. I’m someone who he wants to get to know and he’s prone to want to get to know others. I’m not as much of an open book as he’d like me to be. More intricate, as Shakespearean language covers my pages. He would need to take a good long look and decipher me. (Which I doubt could ever happen, since he likes to chase the seagulls at the beach.)
A drunk night.
It is around 10 o’ clock and the fight is going to happen. I just knew it. I bounce nervously, my knee hitting the floor a couple of times, swigging the cool, fresh beer I had in my hand but it only tasted stale as I continue to stare at the two across from me. Dallon is glaring at Brendon with disapproval, the beer untouched in his hand, while Brendon takes another bottle and chugs it, laughing his ass off about some joke with a plane and a tomato, resting his head against Spencer’s shoulder being a little all too affectionate.
All I can do is wait.