Chapter 7: Didn't Think I'd Turn Around, and Say...

Three days had passed.

I had been doing anything possible to keep myself busy. I organized my entire room. My closet was spotless, organized on the racks in terms of tank tops, tees, long sleeves, pants, skirts, jackets, etc. My shoes were organized by kind and color. I was beautifully organized. I organized some rolls of film I had sitting on my desk. They had been developed long before, but I had never had time to actually put them into frames, albums, or boxes, and organize.

I had been listening to 60s rock on my iPod all day, making CDs, and doing everything I could to keep busy. I had just finished organizing my make-up drawer. Now I was organizing my computer. I was making playlists and CDs, I was trashing stuff, making new folders, organizing myself.

Then my doorbell started ringing.

I sighed, and pulled myself out of the chair, and down the stairs. I was wearing jean cutoffs and my Hershey Park shirt, one I had had since I went there when I was ten. It didn't really fit anymore, but I wore it whenever I was just doing stuff around the house.

My iPod was playing Maroon 5, an amazing band. One of my top favorites ... they included U2, Coldplay, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Maroon 5 ... so amazing! He had actually gotten me into Red Hot Chili Peppers, but I loved them still the same. I didn't bother to look through the peephole, not thinking about who could be at the door. I unlocked it, and opened it. It was Luke.

I tried to shut it again. He stuck his foot between the door and threshold. He pushed the door back partially open.

"Lauren, don't do this."

"What do you want?" I couldn't look him in the eyes. That's where I got lost. He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. A mix of blue, green, and gray, they were amazingly beautiful. Mine changed amongst those three colors, depending on what I wore. His were beautiful, and deep, and when you looked into them, you really could see his soul. I stared at his foot instead, the one between the door and threshold.

"I want to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Fine, I'll talk, and you'll listen."

"No. There is nothing to talk about."

"Just listen to me!"

"No."

I kicked the foot I had been staring at out of the way, and slammed the door in his face before he could get a chance to stop it.

I turned the lock, and did the chain. He called my name, and knocked. I looked at the playlist again, and turned on "Not Coming Home." I turned up the volume to drown out the knocking. Then he started to ring the bell, and I turned it up a little bit louder. I went back upstairs to my room, and sat at my desk.

I stared out the window at the street.

Eventually the ringing stopped, and he left. I drew my legs up into my chair, and hugged my knees. Eventually he wandered down the sidewalk. He kept looking back, and every couple of times right into my window. He finally turned the corner, leaving me alone once again.

I was shaking. Why did he have this effect on me?

I went downstairs, finding a bunch of grapes in the crisper. I had decided to change my pitty-party diet. Now I just stuffed myself full of fruits, vegetables, power bars, and diet cherry coke or dr. pepper. Once I got back to my room, I set the grapes on my desk, and looked at my calendar. It was June 1st, Rachel's birthday. This afternoon through tonight there was going to be a pool party at her house. Did I actually want to go? I knew that he would be there. I didn't want to have to spend the entire night avoiding him, that was stupid and a pain in the fucking ass. At the same time, I didn't want to deal with him, or talk about it.