throwing rocks at your window // Topper Thornton

thirty-four

or where I belong

I had one class after lunch and then I was done for the day. It was a writing class that I needed to fill my art requirement. Math and numbers were my thing, not drawing or painting. Writing was something I was decent at. I'd never be an author but I could get by with an A in a beginners class if I really tried. Plus it was on Monday/Wednesday along with all my other classes so I was done for the week Wednesday at 3:15 PM.

I set my backpack on the floor and flopped onto my bed. My body and mind were exhausted. It wasn't really a hard day, I think it was just the lack of rest after a lot of hard days. I never let myself heal, I just kept moving forward and threw myself into routine to keep myself functioning. I scheduled every minute if my life to keep from having free time for my mind to water. What I didn't think of was what to do during the "homework" portion of my day for the first couple weeks of school. My planner was filled out with my full daily schedule and every homework assignment and study session I had for the whole semester. There was nothing else I could do for school, nothing else I could focus my energy on.

I grabbed my journal from the night stand settled on my stomach with the journal out in front of me. I pulled the cap off the neon green gel pen began to doodle a flower in the upper left corner. The last few months my writing inspiration was lacking. I couldn't even write out my thoughts and feelings, let alone a poem or a short story.

Well, other than Rafe's.

I slowly began to write out 'Topper' in different fonts and sizes as I explored the thoughts floating through my mind.

Corn dog. I wonder if Saved by the Bell is streaming. Maybe I should color. Puppy in an ice cream cone. Or maybe a puzzle? I did just buy new pens. There was that mystery I started the other day.  I should bake bread. It is close to dinner time. I should start cooking. Burgers? Corn? Sausage? Pancakes? Breakfast for dinner? I should ask Topper what he wants to eat. Toperrrrrr. I love him. I want to marry him and have his babies. I wonder what our babies would look like. Hopefully like him. Or maybe a little of me too. Pretty blue eyes and an innocent smile, button nose and blonde curls. A tiny, strong willed Topper with his sense of humor and his dimples.

"What are you writing?" Topper kicked off his shoes as he closed the door to my bedroom.

I stared at the page full of his name, my name with his last name, and apparently baby names I liked. I closed my journal and put it back on my nightstand, trying to hide the redness that spread across my cheeks.

I rolled over onto my back as Topper crawled overtop of me. He kissed the tip of my nose and let his body fall over me.

I tried to laugh but his weight on my chest kept me from pulling in any air. I smacked him on the back and tried to wriggle out from under him, "Can't... breathe..."

Topper grabbed my hips and rolled onto his back, taking me with him. My hair fell over his face so I tucked it behind my ear and sat up, straddling his waist.

My pointer finger found it's way to his face, tracing his nose, lips, and jaw before settling on his collar bone. My love for him was so strong, it was like I couldn't help but reach out and touch him. I needed to make sure he was real and not just my imagination.

"What did you say?"

My gaze snapped up to meet his, "I didn't say anything?"