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Nineteen: A Collection.
"There are some people who you just can't help but look at. Not necessarily because they're beautiful, just because you see them, and you know, you just know, that they're gonna be something special."
-L
I knew that you weren't perfect. I understood this, because no one is perfect and anyone who believes themselves to be so is evidently very self-centered. And you were not that person.
So I knew that you weren't completely flawless, and I loved that. I loved all your little quirks, the way you couldn't keep your bangs out of your face, the slight shade difference in the color of your eyes. Maybe you thought I didn't notice these things; maybe you wanted to keep them a secret. But even though I guess you'd fuss about them, calling them "imperfections," I thought those little things made you all the more beautiful.
It took nearly two weeks of knowing you to realize that you didn't feel the same way.
It was a Wednesday; you had another performance that night, but it wasn't until the evening and you'd taken the free time to meet me at the bookstore. It wasn't a date, not really. But I'd asked you to come and you'd agreed, and maybe you thought we were just going as friends but that didn't change your answer so I figured I'd just take it.
Somehow, we'd ended up sitting on the racetrack rug in the kid's section, a collection of Dr. Seuss beside us, reading the picture books back and forth to each other and ignoring the toddlers watching us like we'd lost our minds. And maybe we had, but we were both laughing and my stomach was beginning to hurt because of it but I was fairly certain it was the best feeling ever.
We were sitting close, shoulder to shoulder, leaning against against a bookshelf. Every now and then as you laughed, your head would touch my shoulder and I would smell that familiar collection of winter and warmth, and it was familiar and safe and made me want to draw you into my arms and never let you go.
You had finished reading Oh, the Places You'll Go!, but I didn't realize it until you said, "Earth to Sam! Is anybody home?"
I swam back into reality, because I'll admit, I'd been daydreaming. I'd been thinking—wondering—if it would be so bad to ask you out right this minute, if it would be awkward or if I would be awkward or if—well, who was I kidding; of course I would be awkward.
"I'm listening," is all that came out.
You smiled, rolling your eyes at me and then tilting your head back onto one of the shelves. Your eyes drifted shut and you pulled your legs to your chest, taking a deep breath before sighing it all out. Your eyelashes brushed against your cheeks, your pale lips were curled slightly upward, and maybe there was nothing particularly fantastic about that, but I could look away.
Until you spoke.
"Sam, stop it," you murmured, and your eyes were still closed but your lips were moving.
I blinked. "What?"
"Stop looking at me, like...that." You flung your arm in a haphazard gesture, narrowly missing my face.
"Like what? Ellery, your eyes are closed, what are you—"
"Sometimes you look at me," you mumbled, cracking open your eyelids, "and it's as if you think I'm something phenomenally special. I can feel it, and I see it in your eyes. The way you look at me is like I'm a queen, or a goddess, or someone who's extraordinary. But I'm not, Sam. I'm not." You shook your head. "You're seeing me as someone who's bigger and better than I actually am, and I don't know why that is, but it's false. I'm just a normal girl—I'm not special or stunning or whatever you think I am, and you need to understand that."
Your voice fell to a whisper, and I was shocked. It felt as though someone had pressed me against the wall with a million stickpins. I didn't understand, because when I looked at you I saw everything good and I didn't see how you couldn't see the same things.
"Ellery, why did you tell me that?" I asked softly.
You shrugged. "I—I just...I guess I knew that eventually you'd figure out that I'm nothing great, and—and I didn't want you to be disappointed." You looked down, curtaining your face with your hair and picking at your nails.
I took a deep breath, licked my lips, and sighed.
"I know," I began, "that a person isn't who they really are in one snapshot of time. I've only seen you in certain places, and I know that you'd act differently around your family, or your friends. I know that the Ellery I see in front of me—that's not you, not completely. You're so much more; you're mistakes and greatness, you're smart and weak, and I know you aren't the person I'm seeing you as right now."
I paused for breath, and when I looked at you, your eyes were wide and shining with moisture.
"But that doesn't change the fact that you're special," I continued. "Maybe you don't think that, and maybe sometimes you don't feel like that, but I swear, you are. You're every bit as beautiful, all throughout, as I think you are, and maybe I don't know you all to well, but I know that for certain." I rubbed my forehead, sighing. "I can't let you think that you're any less that you are," I said forcefully. "I just—I can't stand to think that you're going around every day with some kind of ridiculous idea that you're not amazing. Because you are, and I don't know how to prove this to you, but you're—you're everything, and you have to believe me."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. We sat there and stared at each other in a bookstore in the middle of Portland, sitting on a playroom rug, and there was a collection of tears gathering in your eyes and as I continued to watch, a few leaked out and trickled down your cheeks. Then you sprung forward, throwing your arms around me and squeezing tightly, your face buried into my chest.
"Sam," you breathed, and that was all. Just my name, but there was so much feeling and gratitude and relief behind it that I felt my heart skip a beat. And it was only one word—but that was enough.
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A/N: I. ACTUALLY. UPDATED. :D
