Slowly but surely, Nick rolled out of bed. His feet met the chilled hardwood at precisely 2:38 a.m., just before he began to wander about his room. At sixteen, Nick was a good kid but he wasn’t the best student; he did just enough to get by. He got along well with everyone at school but struggled to make any solid friends. Nick enjoyed music—listening to it, playing it, even talking about it; therefore, that’s what he invested most of his time into. Aside from taking band in school, Nick drummed for a local jazz band. He also produced drum covers out of his basement in his spare time. Nick was on the right track. He’d just gotten his driver’s license, an enormous feat to any teenager, and the school’s homecoming dance was only four days away. Nearly everyone already had their dates, and Nick didn’t plan on going. He wanted to go, deep down, but he figured he didn’t stand a chance finding a date—at least not one he would’ve enjoyed going with. Nick sat directly across from Blake Reece, a junior, in art class. She was nice enough. The two exchanged a few words about their artwork, and the weather on a good (or bad) day, but that was it. Nick didn’t know much about Blake, other than the facts that she enjoyed the rain and oil pastels. He thought the two of them to be similar, and he often dreamt of spending time with her.
They lived on different ends of the same neighborhood for their entire lives. Nick considered asking Blake to the dance once or twice, similar to the way he used to consider sitting next to her on the bus; however, fear of rejection governed these thoughts—as it does with many boys his age. Posted above the dresser in Nick’s bedroom was a poster for Cheap Trick’s 1977 album In Color. The keys to Nick’s 1998 Honda Accord, that he so wonderfully inherited from his aunt, were sitting directly center on his dresser. After slinging his worn, navy-blue robe across his shoulders, over his nightly plain white tee, Nick snatched up his keys and headed for the door. “I’d looove youuu to love mee,” Nick muttered as he miraculously made his way downstairs. Nick’s parents were sound asleep. Any time there was an incident, it was usually pretty loud. They weren’t heavy sleepers, so they didn’t have much to worry about. They’d typically wake up solely from the hardwood’s commotion, but not tonight. After somehow making it out undetected, Nick stumbled upon his car, ignited the engine, and began to drive. Nick insisted on driving with the windows down, weather permitting of course. Heat forcefully made its way through the vents as the cool autumn air circulated throughout the car’s interior. Nick didn’t bother pulling all the way into the Reece’s driveway; apparently the middle of the road seemed more appropriate at the time. Of course, he didn’t bother to shut his door, either. With the car left running, and its windows down, Aliotta Haynes Jeremiah’s “Lake Shore Drive” filled Nick’s footsteps with confidence as his feet politely trotted through the grass, eventually making it to the Reece’s front door. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. After waiting for what Nick thought was an appropriate amount of time—four seconds—Nick’s innocent, aggressive knocks resumed. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. About thirty seconds after the sixth knock, locks and chains began to dance from behind the door. Luckily for Nick, Blake’s parents were out of town. A confused Timmy Reece, Blake’s youngest brother, stood before Nick at 2:51 a.m. “Nick? What the hell are you doing?” “Would you like to go to the dance with me, Blake?” Nick somehow managed to articulate. The door suddenly slammed in Nick’s face. With his feet planted, Nick continued to confidently ask the Reece’s front door if it would like to attend the dance with him. “Would you like to go to the dance with me, Blake?” “Would you like to go dance with me, Blake?” “You’d like to dance with me, Blake?” Shortly after Timmy slammed the door in Nick’s face, it reopened; although much calmer this time. “Nick? Is everything alright?” Rightfully confused, Blake stood before Nick—also wearing a robe, although hers was purple. Oddly enough, part of her was pleased to see him. “You would like to go dance to with me?” “What?” Blake said, with a gentle laugh that broke from a soft smile. The wonderful, kind sound of Blake’s voice sent a shockwave through Nick’s ears, almost immediately waking him up. Nick looked down, shocked to discover himself only wearing a t-shirt and boxers. Soon after hearing Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” serenading the moment through his car’s open windows, Nick turned around to discover that he’d driven his car across the neighborhood and parked it in the middle of the road, directly in front of the Reece’s house. After turning back around, he caught a glimpse of her. A portion of the light from the car’s headlights stretched to meet the dim light provided by the night sky, illuminating Blake’s skin as if it were a professional photo shoot. Her hair, although it was slightly matted, was perfectly imperfect. In utter disbelief at how wonderful she looked at 3:00 a.m., Nick’s breath was taken and his eyes began to roll—he dropped directly back into the patch of bushes he somehow managed to make it past on his way up the steps leading to the front door. Comments are closed.
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Editorial Staff
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