Dear Scott

Chapter Eight

Dear Scott

For you, my friend

There are hardly words

We’re up and down

We’re all around

I’ve tried to explain

To my aching heart

Why you do these things to me

But no cleaver rhyme

No reason comes to mind

I don't know why

I don't know how

You break my heart

Time and again

I’ve laughed at myself

At what we’ve become

And at times I wonder why

Why does the wind blow you

Towards her half-hearted embrace

When all of my heart

Is waiting patiently

For you to turn around and see

The world could spin

For you and me

From the moment I fell into the passenger seat beside him, I felt out of place, the black seats curving in around me. I had only ever been in Scott's car once or twice before; several brief car rides that passed without much conversation or importance. I could feel the significance of that night, pulsing through us both as we drove, the calm before the storm almost too comforting.I stared straight forward, watching as the mall came into view. It took all of my effort to keep calm in the silence. We hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other since he picked me up, music immediately substituting for any conversations. Remaining poised as we drove, I held my legs tightly crossed, not wanting to fidget and give off any nervous vibes. I watched as trees and houses passed by my window, my mind trying to focus on anything but the butterflies beating down my rib cage. I was a wreck inside, my heart twisted and confused on how to feel or what to expect. The teenage girl inside of me was giggling and blushing, the mere thought of Scott being so close nearly causing my heart to explode. The mature young woman, on the other hand, knew there was still a pressing matter to discuss before I let my emotions run away with me. Scott, as far as I knew, was still infatuated with Jean, and the two were more than committed to one another in their relationship. Yet something in the way he smiled at me when I entered his car had led me to believe that their relationship was failing, the faulty foundation they had built it on toppling over before everyone's eyes.

"I'm so glad you agreed to hang out with me tonight," he beamed at me before pulling away from the curb in front of my house.

My cheeks instantly turned red, the words in my head swirling together to form incoherent sentences. He glanced over at me, confused as to why I failed to respond to conversation start. I smiled at him, a girly giggle slipping from my lips. "I'm glad you asked me to get dinner." I managed to speak, my words not nearly loud enough to convey any excitement. 

Get ahold of yourself, my mind smacked my heart as he reached forward, turning up the stereo. It was just Scott. Scott and me, going out to dinner like friends do. He had something he needed to confide in me, something that had nothing to do with me, something that would affect my life in no way, shape, or form; and yet I was freaking out. For some reason, a burning in my chest convinced me whatever he had to tell me that night would change my life, for better or for worse. Whatever innermost feelings he entrusted in me that night would affect me in more ways than I could ever have imagined, the deepest corners of my heart told me so.