Chloe Williams

People say when you’re young, you’re supposed to make dumb decisions. It’s always “yolo” and people telling us to go out and have fun, but then they constantly criticize our decisions, and they blame us for things that aren’t technically our fault. Eventually, we begin to believe things actually are our fault since we can never leave the satisfactory things alone. Maybe that’s what happened to me.

I met Connor a few months ago, he was wearing blue Converse shoes and an ash-gray jacket that matched the color of the forest around us. I’d walked through these woods a million times before, and I could navigate it blindfolded. Him, not so much. He’s more of an indoors person, the kitchen was his home and he was a phenomenal chef. The sun was going down soon, and I could tell he wasn’t getting back to civilization anytime soon, so I decided to ask if he was okay.

“No, I’m not familiar with this area, and it seems I’ve lost service,” he explained.

“Okay. I can lead you back to the neighborhood if you’d like?”

“You’d be a lifesaver.”

So I did, and we chatted a little along the way. He had just moved here for his dad’s work and he was 17. He had a flirty personality, but it wasn’t entirely on purpose, that’s just the way he was. I wasn’t exactly one to entertain that, yet there I was, laughing at every stupid thing he said. I never found myself interested in dating per se, I guess it’s because I was never really approached by anyone in that way. In my own 17 years of life, I’d barely caught my own eye. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to look like or present myself as and I didn’t care much to try. My style conveyed as much considering my closet was filled with sweaters and baggy T-shirts; I considered myself a reserved person.

We ended up back in the neighborhood and I went to go on my way, assuming Connor would go his separate way as well, but he followed me. Well, not exactly followed, but he went the same way as I did. Turns out he lives four houses down from me. Wonderful.

I guess he had assumed that we were friends after that encounter because, in the days following, he showed up at my house with cookies he baked. I played along since I wanted to get out a little more. My mother had invited him to have dinner with us a few days later. I sat at the table with clenched fists, constantly having to say “bless you” to Connor. Come to find out, he sneezes when he’s anxious. How convenient. Anyway, we began hanging out more and more, even taking day trips to the beach. I’d sit in the passenger seat fiddling with my hair while he drove his gray jeep down the highway. Occasionally, I’d even catch him looking over at me and staring.

That summer didn’t last long, and time flew by when I was with Connor. We started our last year of school together, but he got popular pretty quick. I guess I should’ve known it would happen — it’s an average new kid story. The moments we spent together during the summer quickly faded to distant memories as he began branching out and making other friends. I assumed that he’d put me on the back burner once he met other people, and he did for a little while. That was, until we were lying on the roof of my house together at two in the morning watching the stars when he whispered, “your eyes look stunning in this lighting.”

I was sure he couldn’t even see my eyes. I felt my face redden and the corners of my mouth quirk up. I quickly put my hands over my face. I was so screwed.