Close To You—Gracie Abrams

You had been appointed by Avery Grambs to work with the Hawthorne Foundation on youth outreach.

At a gala, you had your own table for the young attendees of the event.

There were six kids sitting at the table, listening diligently as you gave your lesson on optimism and positivity.

You were vaguely aware that your not-a-crush Xander Hawthorne was attending this gala, and you tensed each time you felt him walk by.

You burned for him, and he (probably) didn’t even know your name.

As you’re handing out a coloring sheet and a 24-pack of crayons to each kid, a chair is pulled up beside you.

Xander Hawthorne sits down, watching as you hand the supplies to the kids.

“Hey,” he smiles.

“Hey,” you say back, trying to hide your grin.

You sit back in your seat, watching the kids color. Xander wraps an arm around the chair, smiling.

“You look really pretty,” he says, nodding to your silky dress.

“Thank you,” you blush.

At this point, you think he should be yours for life. You’ll be signing every dotted line.

Just to be close to him.