His Front Door

May 15, 2009
By Anonymous

My palms sweated as I paced back and forth in front of his house. What was I going to say? How was I going to tell him straight forward? It had been days since I last talked to him. I’d been slightly ignoring him.
Sighing, I finally took the steps needed to reach his front door. I raised my fist and lightly knocked. I waited, wondering if he was even home. I looked down at my hands nervously, trying to hear any sign of movement from the house. I was about to turn around and run when the door swung open and he looked down at me.
“Jamie?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I whispered back. He gave me a little smile and stepped outside.
“What’s wrong?” His deep voice gave me a feeling of urgency.
“I-I wanted to tell you that…” my voice faded out as he tucked my hair behind my ear.
“Uh, nothing.” I slowly moved back, trying to get away from this embarrassing moment.
“Jamie, tell me.” I shook my head and turned to walk away. I was walking away from the boy I loved, the boy that had always been there for me. I wanted to tell him how much I wanted to be with him. I wanted to tell him how I much I loved him.

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