Chapter 11
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He said I could have some clothes! Call me crazy, but I liked old vintage stuff and guys clothes were 10 times more comfortable so this was a pure win win! I pulled out a beautiful, thick jacket. “That’s my swim team jacket.” Zac said.
“It’s so well made, things aren’t sewn like this now a days.” I said.
“Really?” He asked. I nodded and slipped into the jacket. It was fairly big, and the arms were way too long. “Looks good, it’s nice to see it being worn again.” He said kinda quiet. I flung my arms around and watched the fabric flop stiffly. Zac laughed a little and that made me smile. I imagine it had been a while since he was able to talk with someone. I took it off again and went through the rest of the clothes. Zac just watched me silently. It was a little strange, but I got used to it. He wasn’t being creepy about it. I gathered up the clothes and carefully climbed down and put them in the wash. Then I went to my room and Zac floated through the wall.
“Thanks for the clothes, they’ll make good night clothes.” I said.
“Yeah, like I said, I won’t be using them.” He answered.
“So, you read my stuff? What did you think?” I asked cautiously. I was actually really self conscious of my writing, and never shared it with anyone.
“You write like you’re telling a story.” He answered.
“W-What do you mean?” I asked, stuttering slightly. I wasn’t prepared for that answer. I had expected something like, ‘Good’ or, ‘nice’. Something vague and nothing thought out.
“You write like an author. You put feeling into your writing.” He said. Whoa. I felt my cheeks get extremely hot and I covered my face a little. I didn’t take compliments or praise very well. He just smiled at me with a very happy grin.
“T-T-Thank you, I never show my writing to anyone.” I confessed.
“Well I like it.” He said simply.
“So, I take it, you read my dream that happens often?” I asked, lowering my hand from my face.
“If that’s what’s in that journal then yes.” He said.
“It’s not pretty when I have it, so I’m just warning you now. I sometimes talk in my sleep too, I’m not sure if I did that last night.” I said. That was another thing I was embarrassed about. I didn’t like sleepovers for that reason. If I started talking or even screaming in my sleep, I didn’t want others to hear me.
“Not that I’ve heard.” He said.
“That’s good.” I said, relieved.
“Do you write anything else?” He asked. I nodded.
“I have a few stories.” I said.
“Can I read them?” He asked. I hesitated and he continued. “I mean it’s fair right? You have a lot of my clothes to wear now.” He said.
“Well, I guess that’s true.” I said. I couldn’t really give him much, but I guess I could give him entertainment.
