The Songs in Our Hearts: A Young Adult Romance(65)

“Whether you believe it or not, there is something between you two. You both just have to figure it out,” Jennifer said. I knew it was true. “Why don’t you write to him?”

“Isn’t a love letter a little cliché?” I bit my lip.

“Not really. I mean…I think it would be worse if you sent him a text. At least a handwritten note is more personal.” Jennifer beamed. “Trust me, Rachel and I have been waiting for this! We figured it would come down to you telling him how you felt in a letter. Micah just doesn’t seem to be the type to write you a note,” she said with a small frown.

“I’m kinda mortified,” I confessed.

“Everything is going to be all right, Charlie. I promise.”

“I just don’t want to ruin anything,” I pressed.

“You won’t. It’s impossible. He kissed you. You guys have this whole process backwards. If that didn’t destroy your friendship, then telling him your honest feelings won’t either. It’ll only show Micah that you’re interested in sharing more with him.”

“You’re right.” I exhaled. “I should give it to him before we go to Homecoming next Friday.”

“You’re going with Micah?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

“He asked me to go,” I admitted.

“OH. MY. GOD! Do you have a dress?”

When I shook my head, feeling embarrassed again, Jennifer squealed.

“Perfect! We have to go pick out the perfect dress right away. We’ll have to do something simple because of the time crunch, but….” She grinned wildly. “OH! This is so exciting!” Jennifer pulled me into a tight hug. “See? He likes you!”

As she pulled away, she stared at me. “If you want someone to read your letter before you give it to him, I’d be happy to be an eye for you. Operation Letter to Micah!”

I nodded, giving her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jen. I appreciate it. I’d like that.”

She smiled, seeming pleased. “Great! I’m so happy you told me! I’m so excited for you!”

“Why am I not as excited as you? I feel like puking.”

“It’s going to be fine! Micah would be nuts to turn you down after all this.”

“He is nuts.”

“Yeah, for you! You’ll see.” Jennifer winked. “You. Will. See.”

I finally cracked a grin.

“You’d better get to writing.” Jennifer laughed as we emerged from the bathroom. “I can’t wait to see how right I am about this!”





“Only You”

The Flying Pickets





THAT NIGHT, I STARED AT the empty sheet of notebook paper, contemplating exactly what I wanted to say. After dinner, I went in search of my dad. Grateful to find him alone in his workshop, I decided I’d ask him what he thought. I knew my dad would give me his real opinion.

“Do you think telling Micah how I feel is a good idea, Dad?” I sat on a nearby stool as he sanded down a long wooden board. When my dad had free time, he’d go to his shop and work on different projects. Most of the time, they were part of the maintenance for the house, but sometimes, he’d create something for himself—he was currently working on his new hobby: building a train set. Before dinner, Josh and I had helped him figure out how to buy trains and model homes on eBay.

“It depends on how serious you are,” Dad replied, glancing at me from behind his bifocals. “He seems like a nice kid.”

Kid. My dad thought Micah was a kid. I guess we were kids to him. I knew I would always be his kid.

“What do you expect to gain from telling him?” he asked, dropping the sandpaper onto his desk.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. I hadn’t thought that far. I felt a little silly as I shrugged and picked up a nail from the counter nearby.

“I guess, to officially go out with him?” I tested the words aloud, unsure of how my dad would react. “Dating” was something we rarely talked about. I had heard plenty of girls at school talk about how their dads forbade dating until they were older, but I was sixteen. I never imagined my dad would apply that rule to me.

“Isn’t he already your boyfriend, Charlie?” He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Actually…no.”

“If it makes you happy,” he replied. “You gotta live your life.” He picked up a different piece of sandpaper, leaned over the board and began to sand it down again.

I admired the way my dad worked with his hands. It amazed me how he could place an image in his head and create it. When it came to school projects, he was my go-to person.

One year, for a science fair project, he built a waterfall with a running motor. (I always managed to have the cool projects because of him.) But there, in the quietness of his workshop, my dad would teach me about more than the difference between a Phillips screwdriver and a flathead. He gave me real life advice about everything and anything.

“In high school, did you ever tell a girl you liked her?” I asked, though my dad didn’t really like to talk too much about his time in high school. After some investigation into his yearbooks, I discovered my dad had once been a flirt. Almost every page had handwritten messages from different girls.