I
It all started on a crisp Autumn day in Stowe, Vermont on a stunning November afternoon. I was making my way home from school, walking down the path with these beautiful weeping willows overlapping one another that were finally starting to change colors. I was so excited that it was finally cold enough outside to wear my favorite sweater. It was a dark brown and it was the softest material you’d ever felt. It was perfectly oversized and felt like a warm hug when you’d wear it. Autumn is my favorite season. I think I love all of the seasons if I’m being completely honest, but there is just something about Autumn that is just the most special of them all. Pumpkin and Apple picking, a cup of hot apple cider, cinnamon and sugar doughnuts freshly baked, apple pie, the leaves changing colors, Halloween and Thanksgiving. I could go on for ages about all the amazing things the season has to offer, but I’ll just leave this list of my personal favorites.
As I’m making my way down the path, I hear my name being called. I turned around and see him. Running. His face pink and white like a hibiscus flower. He looked so exhausted, it’s as if he’d been running for miles. He was undoubtedly the most handsome boy I had ever laid my hazel eyes on. He was a tight end on our high school varsity football team and was also one of the sweetest people I’d ever met; besides my best friend Blake, she’s my rock. I started to smile. The butterflies in my stomach were starting to flutter, but that feeling went away pretty quickly once I remembered how nervous he makes me. After what felt like an hour, he had finally caught up to me. He stood there for a second, looked at me, then hunched over gasping for air. I pat on his back, which I’d normally never do because the many chances I do get to speak to him, I always blow them. I always freeze when he talks to me, it’s as if my brain forgets how to process words, thoughts, basically anything.
“I’m glad I finally caught you” he says, still gasping for air.
“Are you okay” I ask, trying to not have this be another awkward interaction.
“Yes I’m fine, a little out of shape I guess”, he chuckles, “I wanted to ask you something”
“Sure” I said nervously.
“I need a study buddy for this French Exam on Friday, are you able to come by my house for a little while today to help me out?” I have passed his house millions of times over the last few years and have never gone inside. His house was tall. His front door was made of wood and it had chestnut-stained wooden shutters and white windows with flower window-boxes outside each of them, filled with succulents. It was so beautiful. I had fallen in love with his house before I knew it was his, before I knew him. He’s invited me inside a handful of times since we became friendly, but I have managed to come up with an excuse each time. This time, he has me cornered. He had asked me earlier at lunch what my evening plans were, out of what I thought was just casual conversation, and I told him that I was just doing homework. So, I was stuck. He’d know I was lying if I said otherwise.
“I think I can come by for a little bit, what time where you thinking?”
“How about right now?”
“Okay, let me just call my Mom and let her know I’ll be home a little later.” I take my phone out of my pocket to call my Mom. My hands are sweaty and shaking. I turn my back to him so he doesn’t see the sheer panic in my face as I am now bound to spend one-on-one time with him for more than 15 minutes, which is all it’s been up to this point. I called my Mom and let her know that I was going over his house to study for the exam and to not wait up. I always feel bad when I change my schedule on her last minute. Ever since Dad died, she hasn’t been the same.
“Okay, I’m ready to go” I say to him, even though I am very much not ready for what’s about to come.
My first interaction with him is arguably the best day of my life. Almost everyday after school I would stay for a few hours and sit on this old chestnut-stained bench across from the football field and read. I’ve done it everyday for the past four years. One day, he came over and sat next to me when his football practice ended. I didn’t think much into it, he doesn’t know who I am and it was a free bench, why would I?
“Are you stalking me or something?” He says, chuckling. In a pure state of shock, I froze. I could feel him staring at me, it felt like my skin was on fire. I couldn’t move.
“Ok…well hi…um..I’m Greyson Ev-”
“I..uh..know who you are. You’re Greyson Evans”, after finally regaining the ability to speak, “We’ve had multiple classes together throughout all of high school. You’re also on the football team which automatically makes you well-known in our school.” He looked away and froze. I could tell he wasn’t expecting me to say that, or more like he was disappointed in himself for how the beginning of our interaction went.
“I, uh have a question for you”, I stutter.
“Shoot” he said, without moving a muscle.
“Do you know anything about me” I said, regretting the words immediately as they left my mouth.
“Um… your name is..uh.. wait I know this… you’re in my Trigonometry class right?”
“And French and Chemistry and History and Lunch and Gym. So basically every class.” He looked so upset. I felt like such an asshole in that moment, but I was already so deep into making my point that it was too late to wave the white flag.
“Oh…I didn’t realize” He stammers.
“Yeah I know… It’s fine…I’m not really a very memorable person to be fair.” Greyson turns his head quick to look at me. He speaks his next words with such a stern tone.
“What’s your name?”
“Charlotte Summers”
“That’s a beautiful name. I find it very hard to believe that you’re not a very memorable person. I definitely will not forget you after this interaction”, he says, smiling.
We sat there for another thirty minutes talking aimlessly about what we wanted to do with our lives and what they would look like after we graduated high school in six months. Greyson’s parents were banking on him getting a scholarship to keep playing football and eventually play for the NFL one day- a cliche, I might add. It’s also just not what he wanted. Greyson wants to travel the world and go to trade-school, not a four year state school, still playing football. School wasn’t his strong suit either, but he was smart and wanted a career in a trade. It was refreshing hearing that, that there is someone in this god forsaken school that didn’t feel the absolute need to go away to a state college. I wasn’t going to college. It was never even a consideration for me. My family has owned the only book store in my town for the last fifty years. Once I graduate high school, it will officially be mine. It was the only thing I had looked forward to or even got excited for the past few years. I started to notice the more I told Greyson about my future, the more he started to smile. It was quickly gradual and subtle, but it was enough to make my heart start to race. Greyson looked at me, like really looked at me, with sincere intent and said,
“ You are breathtaking. Everything about you is breathtaking.” That was it. After those words, I was hooked. I wanted to to be around him forever. I wanted him.
When we arrive to his house, the panic really starts to set in. It’s kind of pathetic, really. I wish I would’ve just slapped myself in the face and snapped myself out of it. He is just a boy. He is just a boy. What harm could he do? We walk onto his porch, then through his white, distressed front door. There was nobody home when we got there. Greyson leads me upstairs and I’m so out of it, that I counted his steps. Eleven, his staircase has eleven steps. He brings me to the door of his bedroom and slowly opens it. The first thing I made eye contact with was his bed, as it’s the first thing you see when you open his door. To the right of his bed was a desk with a chair that could’ve won awards for ‘the most uncomfortable looking chair in the world’. To the left of his bed was a dresser and two doors, the closest door to his bed was a closet and the furthest door was his bathroom. All I could think about when I noticed that he had his own bathroom was how nice that must be to not have to share a bathroom with anyone else. He had a few posters on the wall behind his bed with quotes from Socrates and Aristotle, mixed with iconic and historic photos like V-J Day in Times Square. I hadn’t realized what an old-soul he was. On top of his dresser he had a vintage Victrola with a glut of diverse records. Most of the records he had were from artists whose time had come and gone before we were even born. I liked that though. I learned more about him in the twenty seconds I took to scan his room than I have in the past few months since we became friends, or whatever we are. Asher was just like me. It felt so fucking good. After quickly taking mental pictures of his bedroom, I was so in shock at how clean it was that all I could say was “Wow.”
“What’s wrong”, he asked.
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think it would be as clean as it is.”
“Let me guess, it’s because I’m a guy right?”
“Exactly”, I laugh, “Do you keep it this clean or does your Mom still clean your room for you?”
“No”, he chuckles, “This is all me.” He sets his backpack down on his chair at his desk and starts to pull out his books. He motion for me to sit on his bed and tells me to ‘make myself comfortable’. I couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Greyson Evans was the only person on this planet that has ever made me this nervous in my entire life. I walk towards his bed and start to unpack my books. I sit down on the bed and wait for him to initiate the study session. He takes a few minutes to get settled, though it seems like he is stalling. Is it possible that I make him nervous? I don’t think it’s possible for someone like me to make someone like him nervous. We start to go over the basics of the exam and he starts to act different. I’ve never seen him so unsure of himself. So, I started as easily as I could.
“Okay, so how do you ask to go to the restroom?”
“Est-ce que je peux allé aux toilet?”
“That’s right! Okay, how do you you say 100?”
“…Cent?”
“Yes! Perfect. Now, if you were lost and you wanted to ask someone for help, how would you ask?”
“Je suis perdu…. um.. shit I don’t remember.”
“That’s okay, it’s “Je suis perdu, pouvez-vous m’aider?”
We studied for the next two hours. My heart broke for him. I hate to say it, but I felt pity for him. I never wanted to feel likes this towards a person because I personally know what it feels like.
“I think I’m all French’d out for the day, how about you”, he says pleadingly.
“Yes, me too.”
“Let me walk you home.” He waits for me as I pack up my things and wonder if I should ask him if he’s alright. I took one quick look at him and knew to keep my mouth shut. His eyes looked so heavy and dark, I could tell he was exhausted and just needed some rest.
