Look At The Stars

Emma

"What's your question?"

"Questions" Noah corrects me.

I sigh. "Questions."

"Do you like me?"

My cheeks go pink. Damn you, cheeks.

"That's a yes, huh?"

"Another question?" I try to change the subject.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you like me?"

I stare at him for a short time. "You are different from the other guys."

He cocks his head. "What?"

"I mean, you help drunk guys to be happy again, and you just.... you're messed up."

"Ah, so you like messed up people?"

"No."

"But then why do-"

"I just like you. You are different. You are sarcastic, but also nice."

"I'm not nice."

"That's what y'think."

"Emma."

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying to be nice, because I made terrible thing back then."

"Like wh-"

"Like when I left you alone?"

"Yeah, but what about the drun-"

"They do deserve to be happy. Everyone deserves to have a little bit of happiness."

"Everyone, huh?"

"My mom used to say that."

"That's cute."

"Yeah."

We stay quiet for a moment, until: "So you like stars?"

"My dad used to tell me." He stops for a moment and keeps going. "He used to tell me that when I felt sad, lost  or anything, I should talk to the stars."

"That's why you're here?"

He nods.

"That's really cute."

"You're just like Will."

"Why?"

"Because he thinks I'm cute."

"You are."

"No, I'm not."

I poke him.

"Stop."

I start poking him more.

"Please, stop."

"No."

He sighs. "Fine, have it your way."

"You don't like people poking you?"

"No, but I got used to it."

"Good."

"Okay, never mind." He grabs my hand and pokes me with it.

" What are you doing?" He pokes my nose, the my arm, and so on.

"Poking you."

"With my hand?"

"Yeah."

I smile. "Wow."

"I know. Pretty clever."

I laugh and Noah stops poking me.

"Why do you think you're not cute?"

"Because I can't be cute and punk." He says as if it was crystal clear.

I laugh. "You're punk?"

"Or grunge. Whatever you prefer."

I laugh and Noah smiles.

"And what is Will?"

"A puppy."