What It Feels Like (a boyxboy)

kind of beautiful

Sam

   For some odd reason, the idea of selling my childhood home makes me shiver. Maybe I'm just over-sentimental, but I would be miserable if I had to pick up and move. I can't help but wonder if the new neighbors are experiencing that feeling as they haul dozens of boxes from the moving vans outside.

   I feel like a bit of a creep staring out at them through my bedroom window, but going down and actually meeting them is definitely not an option. As of now, at least. 

   The people who have lived on my street are mostly boring middle-aged couples whose children are grown and out of the house. From what I can tell, this new family seems big, and they look happy. A little bit of their liveliness would do this neighborhood some good.

  "Checking out the new neighbors?" My mom's voice catches me by surprise, and I turn my head to face her.  She's standing in the doorway of my room with a laundry basket on her hip. 

   "Yeah, they look nice," I respond honestly. I walk over to my mom and take the laundry basket from her when I realize they're my clean clothes. "Thanks," I say, setting the basket on my floor to deal with later. 

   My mom follows me back over to my window and peaks over my shoulder. "Looks like they've got quite a good number of kids," she says. I can't tell if my mother is annoyed at that fact, or if she's just making an observation. Sometimes it's hard to tell with her.

   "Yep," I respond blankly, hoping she gets the hint I would like to be left alone. I want to continue my people-watching in peace without her commentary.

   My mom finally exits my room after reminding me to put my laundry away, and I peer down into the neighbor's yard again. I can see a girl, maybe twelve years old, speaking to a woman who I'm assuming is her mother. The lady has brown curly hair long enough that it lays against the back of her purple sundress. I already see the stark contrast between her and my own mother. My mom isn't in anyway uptight or conservative, but she has tired eyes. This neighbor lady has a certain brightness to her that my mom doesn't often have.

  The mom and her daughter go back inside the house, and all I can see are some moving guys carrying a big couch up the sidewalk. I watch them struggle to get it inside for at least twenty minutes, but they succeed in the end. The moving guy, whom I have a clear view of, walks back to one of the vans and drives away. But the other one stays.

  His back is to me, but I can see him sit down on the grass. I watch as he quite literally chugs down a whole bottle of water.   

   Seconds later, a little boy comes running out and tries to jump into his lap. I was not ready for the moment his face became visible as he stood up in my direction.  Because he's kind of beautiful. 

  Definitely beautiful. 

   I don't find myself ogling boys too often, but I can feel myself blushing at the sight of him. Something about him makes me feel off. In a good way.