Page 11 of The List of Things

I haven’t talked to Bellamy since he drove me home from the party. He’s never been a big drinker at parties, at least during the time I’ve known him. He said he wouldn’t be late after I hopped out of his Jeep last night. Now that I’m up and awake I prepare myself for the few finals I have this week despite my hangover, and clean my apartment up. I’m not the neatest person, but since Bellamy is coming over for tutoring the last thing I need is for him to think I’m a total slob.

I wait.

And then I wait more and feel a sticky, hot annoyance boiling inside of me. Bellamy is late. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. Considering I’m doing this as a favor to him, and not a normal tutoring session I would think he would at least try to be on time. He’s never late for anything. Especially tutoring.

I sit on my couch, watching a Nicholas Sparks movie that happens to be playing on the TV, that I also happened to not be able to turn off. My heart thumps as the two characters kiss in the rain, my mind reeling at just the sight of it. They haven’t even confessed their love for each other yet, but it’s already so blatantly obvious as I watch them. They know it too, they’ve just never said it. The way the entire movie is set up makes me feel warmth in far too many areas of my chest. I reach forward, writing another thing on my list.

Kiss in the rain

I doodle a cute rain cloud next to the words I scribbled on the page as the film plays behind me. This list isn’t my proudest moment. I’ve been drawing on it for a few weeks now, adding things here and there. When I have free time I enjoy spending it watching movies. Rom coms, of course. I always get too invested, and this was my way of stopping that. This is my way of proving this stuff doesn’t exist in real life.

My mind snaps when I hear a knock on my door. I turn the volume down and make my way to the door. I squint to look through the peephole, only to see Bellamy. Never has just a glimpse of someone flipped my stomach over but Bellamy is truly a different breed. I swear the man isn’t human. He’s got to be some type of alien from planet scorching, burn your skin off, smoking, kill you with their looks, hot. That’s the only explanation for this.

“You’re late,” I open the door to him. He looks me up, and down, his lips turning up into a smile.

“You’re pretty when you’re annoyed.”

I roll my eyes at his senseless flirting. He steps through the entryway wearing black straight leg jeans that are loose on him. Clean white Nike’s on his feet, and a Seattle Pike University athletics shirt on. Predictable Bellamy attire. His hair is damp, and curling up at the ends.

“Don’t be mad at me. I figured you’d appreciate me coming to your apartment clean instead of gross from practice,” He tries to make excuses, but my ears are already buzzing.

“Wow, thank you for being so disturbingly kind. I do have a question for you though,” I walk backward toward my living room, making sure my eyes are locked on him. He’s looking around my apartment until I ask him the question. Now his eyes are on me.

“Yeah?” He tosses his bag on the ground near the couch.

“Do you do anything besides tackle other sweaty men so you can throw balls?”

He chuckles at the question which only makes me smile.

“Actually, sweaty men tackle me… And yes I do other things as well… Either way, I’m not the only one who enjoys being around sweaty men all the time… And women too. You’re on the field just as much as I am,” He throws himself on my couch and smirks at the TV. “Nicholas Sparks, my favorite.”

He picks up the remote, and I snatch it from him.

“No, we are not here to watch romance movies and hang out. You need to study,” I click off the television, throwing myself next to him.

“You’re hot when you boss me around.”

I shake my head, “Stop flirting with me, get your notes from class out.”

He doesn’t move, “We could use your notes...”

“You didn’t take any notes, did you?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you even care to pass?” I ask.

He groans, throwing his head back, “I do, but I figured you would take better notes so I kind of… Well, I just banked on you… Don’t be mad, Hart, I just know how smart you are,” He hides his failure with compliments, little does he know they won't affect me like he thinks they might.

“Don’t call me Hart, and don’t try to flatter me. You’re an idiot,” I pull out my notes, pushing things on my coffee table back.

“Good, we both agree that I’m an idiot.”

“Get out a pen and paper. I have practice worksheets we’re going to go over… I’m going to read off every pinpoint I have and you’re going to tell me what you need to work on, alright?”

He nods, “You got it, teacher.”

I smile to myself, thankful I can control the heat that comes to my cheeks. I’m not sure why the nickname is cute, but it is.

---