You five :)

It's 1:39am and you hang up the phone. The phone that you were so afraid of answering, the phone that you hate to talk on. Is it a metaphor for your life? Hating to talk on the phone isn't exactly normal, but neither is talking on it for four hours straight (with three interruptions).

So you hang up that phone you supposedly hated talking on, smile to yourself, and stare at it. You shake your head and laugh as you catch yourself smiling, proceeding to check the "recent calls" section just to verify that the past (2 hrs + 21 min + 17 min + 58 min) just happened.

With this kid that you thought you barely knew, who insisted on calling. Who calls anymore? Yet calling was way better than texting. My parents would die from culture shock if they realized I actually talked on the phone. You talked and laughed and talked, forced to repeat sentences as the mumbling interfered with the actual message of I like you and the silences grew longer and more comfortable. You discussed politics - literally - even though you hate it. You talked about mutual friends and colors and weird facts and habits and rooms and paint colors and foods and being cold. You talked about what actually happened and hinted at what is to come. You re-hashed the entire evening - the smiling and looking down that he is so fond of, the nudging one another, the gummy worms crinkling at the most inopportune times in the darkness of the theater, his bold move when he took your hand and your heart jumped, even though you weren't sure it would - down to every last second that could have made a difference. You laughed at one another and poked fun, stopping to clarify I'm kidding because you don't know each other just that well...yet.

You clarified on the technicalities of the potential -  I don't want it to be too soon. You guys broke up pretty recently - to make sure you aren't crossing any lines, stepping on any feet, pushing any boundaries (fill in the blank with any cliché you want), and to make sure you aren't just the rebound. 

By the end of the night/early morning/when your voices became more mumbled, the pauses grew longer than long, and the need for sleep was almost tangible, you were referring to the undefined "it" as we. We basically have their metaphorical blessing. I wish we had rehearsal together tomorrow. We we we we we. A small word, but it makes you smile as you say it again: we. You laugh because your phone has absolutely no battery left but it's still hanging on. You laugh because those gummy worms are still folded up in your purse, only five absent because you didn't breathe enough during the movie to actually eat them. You laugh because it was supposed to just be a movie with the theatre kids, but it turned into so much more. You laugh because you hate talking on the phone and you just did for four hours. You laugh because it's 2 am and you're laying on your bed in your purple poodle footie pajamas (you'll always be a child at heart) blogging because your best friend isn't awake and because nobody else really knows and you just want to skip and jump and scream and laugh and jump and frolic and hug and kiss everybody (but him especially) and because you are damn tired and there is just no way you are going to sleep yet.

It finished with many goodnights. A goodnight from him, a goodnight from you. A sweet dreams from him, a sweet dreams to you too from you. You three. You four. You five. Your personal joke - the constant barter of sweet dreams and good wishes that only comes from two people who don't want to say goodbye - that initially signified that "it" was real. That "it" really could turn into we. And that final text Goodnight (: that sealed the deal and sent you scurrying around, ripping off the jacket, throwing on the footies and taking out the contacts, feeling for the glasses, flipping the lights off and the laptop on, settling down to blog it all, because what better way for an AP Comp student to vent? And finding this:

I climbed the door
And opened the stairs
I said my pajamas
And put on my prayers
Then turned off my bed
And crawled into the light
All because you kissed me goodnight

Which technically hasn't happened yet, but who gives a poop. There's potential in the we that makes you smile at the poem, recognizing the bubbly heart-jumping, blushing, feeling that continues to spread throughout your body. Maybe it's those gummy worms that you really shouldn't be eating at 2:22 am because you have to get up and finish start college apps (oops) and clean your room and do laundry and take a shower and start some homework and go shopping and look over music and remember to breathe when he will inevitably text you Good morning (: but who really cares? You just spend God only knows how long venting onto the internet about talking on the phone for four hours and now you're eating gummy worms at this time in the morning? Nobody really cares about those worms. They're yours to smile at and reminisce on, but it's time for you to reminisce in your sleep.

Goodnight. Goodnight. Sweet dreams. Sweet dreams to you too. You three. You four. You five. Goodnight :)