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Lonnie often found her thoughts drifting towards a particular blonde.
At first it was due to curiosity; "They moved into the psycho house last week," Ellie Hampstead had said, voice barely above a whisper, "she cannot be normal, anyone who lives in that house is cuckoo."
Lonnie liked the unusual, the unfamiliar, the unknown. So it was tooootally normal for her to, say, befriend the girl. She might not have been the most altruistic buut a pretty friend AND the grand Psycho House tour was the opportunity of a lifetime - what is life without a bit of adventure, right?
She soon found herself wrapped, as if she were a red string, around the girl's - Samantha's - little finger. Her life, soon, began to revolve around her: it started out small, like most friendships do, with video games. Then, notes swapped between classes, doodles she worked on for minutes on end - a cat here, a motorcycle there, and wow a she added a spaceship? She's cool.
Countless, countless doodles, all done in hopes that two classrooms down, the blonde was smiling. Countless, countless night-outs, pizza boxes, tv show marathons- Countless nights spent in the attic, in her bedroom, together. Just the two of them.
"She looks so beautiful, bathed in moonlight," she once scribbled into the margins of a notebook, "so close, yet, we could not be more far apart. She means everything to me, with eyes that reflect the setting sun so magnificently, with soft hands that, unknowingly, hold my entire heart- "
She hadn't expected her walls to come crashing down. She hadn't expected to fall, fall, fall- she didn't mean to say anything out loud- she- she should've just admired from far apart. She shouldn't have gone over to Arbor Hill with a box of dye, shouldn't have whispered her confession, on a futon, in Todd's brother's place and she-
She hadn't expected Samantha "Sam" Greenbriar to be her entire world. She knew she wasn't allowed to look at Sam that way, she knew she wasn't supposed to give her cherry juice in hopes that maybe someday, she would get to taste it from her lips, she knew she wasn't supposed to be as happy as she was when Sam let her to borrow a jacket. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with Sam Greenbriar.
She wasn't supposed to kiss the youngest Greenbriar, let alone hold her hand while running down into the basement. They weren't supposed to whisper I love you's every time they passed one another in the hallway, they weren't supposed to have matching bracelets, matching necklaces, they weren't supposed to have non-verbal signals.
One squeeze to say good luck, two for thanks, three for i love you.
A tap on the shoulder for we're alone, two for family, three for no.
Oftentimes it felt like the Greenbriar girl was a figment of her imagination, just a dream that would never come true. The first time they kissed, Lonnie was ready to open her eyes in her own room, arms around a pillow. But the moment her eyes fluttered open, she was met with the crimson cheeks and half-lidded eyes of Sam fucking Greenbriar.
She was real, she was there: her cheek against her palm, her waist encircled by her other arm, with the most bewitching, wonderful smile Lonnie had ever seen.
Lonnie often found herself thinking about Sam, and so, with a hand on her necklace and a lightness to her, she stepped down the bus.