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Caleb is the guy who defends the weird kid in the hallway, his non-date at the school dance; the guy who always puts his apple slices on my lunch tray because he doesn’t like them and he knows that I do. Caleb is the guy who is terrified to give an in-class presentation but will never cower in front of a bully. And who am I? I’m nobody.
I don’t have to be the sad kid who sits on his bed, staring at his phone, wishing he could say the things he wanted to say. I don’t have to be the guy that aces classes but can’t even carry on a conversation with his parents or muster the strength to get out of bed some mornings.
Because there is no way that Caleb wanting to kiss me and talk to me and be around me is going to last. It feels too much like a dream in the self-deluding sense.
