I scan at my reflection in the mirror and wince. “You look like shit, bruh.”
I look like total ass.
Bags under my eyes, hair doing its own thing—a complete mess.
I rifle through my closet, hoping for a miracle. Something clean. Maybe something in the right shade of blue to match my eyes? Girls notice that kind of thing, don’t they?
I toss aside a wrinkled shirt and a sweatshirt that hasn’t seen the washing machine in weeks, muttering under my breath.
Why is this hard? I want to make an effort.
I pull on some pants and head to the bathroom. Brush my teeth, splash water on my face in an effort to look alive. My hair’s a mess, but I manage to tidy it with my brother’s gel.
I’m not freaking out—you’re freaking out!
By the time I’m done, it’s almost 6:30 and I haven’t eaten breakfast. I stuff a bagel in my mouth. Grab a juice.
Then it’s go time.
At 6:55 I grab my phone, car keys, and backpack and head to the driveway, where Mom’s car is parked ’cause only my dad’s fits inside the garage.
The engine hums softly as I back out, excitement building in my chest.
Today is going to be great!
Life is good!
I whistle as the world goes by, rolling down my window and resting an arm on the sill. The streets are empty, soft morning light glinting off the houses as I make my way to her place. Birds chirp. The grass is greener.
Yes, a great day indeed.
I adjust the rearview mirror, checking my reflection and then the clock on the dash, rehearsing how I’m going to greet her. Casual but confident. Relaxed, like I do this every day.
“I’ve got this.”
After an eternity I pull up to Maddie’s house.
Two seconds later she’s stepping out.
Heart stutters. Sweat beads at my temples. Panic.
Abort. Abort!
“Dude, get a grip.” This is no big deal. I can do this.
Maddie looks perfect—she always does—blond hair falling around her shoulders, jeans slung around her waist, beige tanktop.
I swear, she’s prettier than she was yesterday.
She walks with her head down, face in her phone, barely acknowledging me as she approaches the car.
I lean over and push the door open for her, offering a smile I hope doesn’t look desperate.
“Morning.”
She slides into the passenger seat without looking at me, thumbs flying over her cell screen like I don’t even exist.
“Hey,” she mutters, not bothering to look up.
