He turned to her and said, âIâve got a big fucking
problemâ¦Iâm crazy about you.â
âIâm crazy about you.â
A smirk or a smile, he couldnât tell which, curled her face
for a moment.A smirk because she
thought he was gay, and that this was funny.A smile because they had just talked about similar events a few nights
prior and how she would react, hypothetically, in the same situation.A smile because she was touched.
She mumbled something about not knowing and paused long
enough for him to see an opportunity he didnât even expect.All the times he played out the scenario in
his head, he got rejected instantly, walked directly out the door, hit a sad
song on his iPod and drove away and started dealing with losing her completely
because he wasnât going to go back to being fucking friends.Fuck friends, he thought.Being friends was the pressure cooker for the
sexual and emotional frustration he had felt since curly dark hairs began to hijack
his body.She had been talking about
another guy recently.
Instead of going right for it, he asked, like an asshole
echoing some movie somewhere in his head, âCan I try something?âThank God that kept her frozen.
He went in for the kiss, did the best he could, but she
didnât make much of an effort back.He
couldnât remember what happened at that point, knowing only that he went back
in and couldâve sworn he made the exact same moves- definitely at the end when
he pressed his forehead against hers.He
never did that before, he knew he meant it, but it felt scripted and empty
because it was obvious she wasnât into it.
He got rejected with some more mumbling and stammering,
picked up his books, walked out the door, hit âThe Wingsâ by Gustavo Santaolalla on his iPod, and drove away.
He turned, briefly but doubtingly hoping for a dramatic hug
and a kiss and everything turning from the inevitable shit he had planned to a
beautiful, passionate ending in her bed.She started yammering about not wanting to risk their friendship,
something he had said to her after he asked her on a date the previous summer,
also with no confidence.
At that time, she said yes when he asked her out to dinner,
but the reply was so nervous and insincere that he had to call her the next day
and clarify, with painfully audible nerves strangling his voice, that he was
asking her out but that if âshe wasnât cool with that that he didnât want to
risk their friendship.âShe said she
thought of him as a really good friend.
After he answered her yammering with âI absolutely had to,â
she asked, âAre we cool?â
He didnât say anything as she opened her arms for a hug, but
he did go for the cheek, realizing that it looked awkward even if he wasnât
going for the real thing again. They never saw each other again.
Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Timothy Vollmer. Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 26.02.2009.