Status: Complete
I Want to Dance with Somebody
I Want to Dance with Somebody
"Smile," I say for the umpteenth time before taking the "beautiful" couple's picture. When they walk away, they don't even thank me, though I'm not surprised. The people at my school are a bunch of ungrateful assholes. I shake my head and walk over to my laptop to review all the shots of the couple before choosing which one will be their final picture. Most of me would like to choose the absolute worst shot so I can get a little payback for all the times they made fun of me. But a part of me realizes this is a paying job and the consequences would outweigh the satisfaction I would feel. I finally choose their best picture before sitting down and waiting for whenever a couple decides they want their picture taken.
I sit down, taking in the scene before me: a masquerade theme prom. The designs are spectacular, the food doesn't taste like plastic, and the DJ is actually playing adequate music. I smile, proud of what is all around me. And I should be proud, I did after all organize this, just didn't get a date to it is all…
My remorseful thoughts are cut short when I hear footsteps followed by giggling coming towards me. I grab order forms and pens, prepared for the next customers. When I look I'm startled by who is standing in front of me. My crush, Andrew, is here, at prom, with a date. I clamp my mouth shut and look away, trying to control my emotions.
"Hi Selena!" Andrew's chipper date, Jennifer, says. I look at her and smile weakly, still keeping quiet. I like Jennifer. No scratch that; I liked Jennifer. I've had a few classes with her and she is really sweet and mildly intelligent. Now however, I will forever have a deep hatred for her because she managed to snag the guy I had been crushing on for three years. Pushing aside my distaste for the situation, I hand them the order forms and step back, rocking back and forth on my heels, looking at the ceiling, waiting for this terrible event to end.
After about a minute they hand me the forms and the money. After quickly putting them away with the others, I dash behind the camera as they stand in front of a 16th century masquerade ball backdrop. I stabilize myself before speaking for the first time. "So how do you guys want to be positioned?" I ask, my voice giving off a slight sense of nervousness. With any other couple I would position the guy slightly behind the girl and have him wrap his arms around his waist. However, with them I'm hoping that maybe they are here just as friends, thus not wanting to touch each other in that way. Without speaking, Jennifer positions Andrew behind her, taking his arms and wrapping them around her waist. She smiles brightly towards me. "Is this okay, or do we need to get closer to fit in the frame?" I take in a deep breath, looking down at the ground in dismay since my theory has been disproved. Pulling myself together I look back up, trying to look as unfazed as possible.
"No, you guys are fine. I just need Andrew to angle himself a hair this way," I say, motioning with my hand my request. He complies. "Okay, I'm going to take three pictures. On the count of three, I will take the picture." I look through the camera lenses, prepared to take the pictures and be done with them. "One, two, three…" Click. The flash goes off. I repeat the process two more times until finally all the shots I need are taken. I go back to my station and begin looking at the pictures. Before starting, I say," Your pictures will be available for pick up at the school a week from now." Hopefully this will cause them to leave immediately because I don't want to look at them any longer. Seeing them together shows how shy and how much of a loser I truly am.
I look at my laptop, listening to the sound of footsteps. Only the footsteps aren't receding but getting closer. I groan internally. What could they possibly want now? I spin my chair around. I open my mouth to speak, mind you clueless as to what I will say, but Jennifer beats me to the punch. "So why are you here as a photographer instead of with a date?"
My eyes widen and my breath hitches in my throat. The question is surprising, out of nowhere, and quite frankly, none of her business. "I…" I stop myself from saying anymore because what am I suppose to say? Well the reason I am here as a photographer instead of with a date is because you are here with the one guy I would actually consider going to a public social function with. And if not that should I admit there is not a guy in the whole suburb who would even consider going with me? Instead of saying anything, I simply shrug my shoulders as if it is no big deal, when in reality the whole situation hurts me.
"Oh come on," she says, playfully tapping me on the shoulder, much to my distaste. "There has got to be some guy you wanted to come with. And if not, why not go along with a group of your friends?" she says this playfully, but I can't help feel as if she is taunting me, as if this is fun to her, as if maybe, just maybe, she knows I like Andrew.
"Prom is just no big deal to me," I say. And it's true, however, not the whole truth. While it would be nice to have a date to prom, I'm not disappointed, nor am I surprised. I haven't been asked to a single dance, ever. Not in middle school, not in high school, never. My freshmen and sophomore years I went to homecoming with my friends, but they went as couples, so I was always just a third wheel. They invited me to go to prom with them, but I said no. I couldn't deal with being just a third wheel again, being a complete loser. I couldn't deal with being possibly the only dateless girl at prom tagging along with my wacky friends. I wasn't going to come at all but last minute my boss called and asked me to cover prom since he was out of town taking pictures of a wedding. At first, I denied and denied multiple times. There was no way in hell I was going to take pictures of my classmates. I knew the second they leave the photography room they would start making fun of me, the girl who couldn't get a date to prom so she went as a photographer instead. After much coaxing and promise of a good pay from this job, I took the job. This leaves me here, dateless at prom, watching my crush stand with another girl as she berates me.
I turn back to the photos, hoping this will cue her to drop the topic. "How can prom not be a big deal?" she says shrilling, causing me to have the urge to chuck my laptop at her face and run. But I don't. I clutch my hands into little fists and turn around, containing my anger.
"Jennifer," I say calmly, but with enough malice to warn her of my apprehension. "If you don't mind, which I don't care if you do or don't, I have a job to do. So it would be much appreciated if you take your da—" I almost say date, but I stop myself, more for my sake than hers. To call Andrew her date would be admitting he is someone else's and can't possibly be mine, and that is something I am just not ready to believe yet. I start the sentence over. "It would be much appreciated if you take Andrew and leave me alone. You are here for the dance, not to belittle the photographer." Her eyes widen at the last part as do mine. I didn't realize what I was saying until it was too late. But it doesn't matter. So she knows I don't like her antagonizing me; I don't care.
She gets Andrew's hand, whose face I dare not look at because I don't want to see what he thinks of me, and walks away. Not however, before I hear her quickly mumble to him, "No wonder she doesn't have a date, she is such a bitch." Her last words sting into my memory as they exit the room. I stare at the floor, shocked. I have been called many names in my life. Loser. Freak. Weirdo. Nerd. Orc Dork. Drama Geek. Never before have I been called a bitch. Even though I wasn't directly called a bitch, it stills hurts because I don't feel like I deserved to be called that. What did I do wrong, state my opinion? Since when is that a bad thing? All I ever do is be a quite little girl and keep my mouth shut. But the one time I talk, the one time I want to be heard, I am called a bitch.
I turn back to the pictures, shaking my head. I won't let this faze me. It's just a word. To let one word from some girl I will not remember in five years shake me is ridiculous. Opening the laptop, I look at the three pictures I took of them. I can't help it; I look only at Andrew. He is after all, my crush and since he isn't on Facebook and I never buy a yearbook, now is the only chance I will get to really look at a picture of him. I look at his face, his eyes boring into the camera's lenses. I stare at them, a muddy brown. I move down to his mouth, his lips smiling happily. At first this makes me happy, my own mouth twitching into a smile, but the smile fades. It fades because I realize why he is smiling. I realize that he is happy because of her. He is happy she is his date. He is happy because he is wrapping his arm around her. She makes him happy, and that is something I cannot do.
I close the laptop, not able to look at the photos any longer, even though I should choose them now because it will just make me feel worse later on. I rest my head on the table, wiling my thoughts to go away. Instead, they intensify. The next thing I know a tear falls down my face. I lift my head up, a little surprised by its appearance. I'm even more surprised when more start falling. Seconds later the Niagara Falls are streaming from my face and I can't help it; I let them go. I let them go because I realize there is no point in holding them back. The whole situation makes me sad. I've spent years holding back my feelings, but no more. I need the wells to leak out because then, and only then, will I maybe start moving on. Maybe I will find a more…obtainable guy, though I seriously doubt it. With my in head monologue finished, I lower my head and just let it all out.
Suddenly the door springs open, the music from the dance filling the room. I'm about to pop my head up to see who entered but I remember the water emitting from my eyes so I keep my head down and start wiping them away so I appear tired. I clear my throat, hoping it doesn't sound like I was just crying. "Can I help you?" My voice sounds a little croaky, but it can mistakenly be attributed to sleep deprivation. I wipe away the final tears just as I turn around. I freeze, my hands still by my eyes as I see it is Andrew, alone.
He stands there awkwardly, hand behind his head, gaze averting me. And I don't blame him; I probably look like a mess. "Uhm… I, I left my water bottle in here."
I look around confused, not remembering him bringing one. "I don't see a water bottle," I say pointedly. I just want him to leave so I can cry some more. Well I don't want to cry more, but I know it is going to happen, so I would prefer that he of all people wouldn't be present.
"Oh," he says quickly. He glances at me before scanning the room. "I guess you're right."
I quietly scoff. And I'm guessing he didn't actually leave a water bottle in here.
He turns around to leave. He is pushing the door open before he stops. "Are you alright Selena?"
I look at him and I can tell he genuinely means it, which is really surprising. I mean, why would he care about how I am feeling? I look at him closely, looking for any signs this is a joke. But I can't this makes me want to tell him everything. It makes me want to tell him that I hate seeing him with Jennifer. It makes me want to tell him that I like him… I shake the idea out of my head. I can't do that. I don't have an ounce of bravery to do that. So I smile meekly, saying, "Yeah."
He smiles back, though one could say his smile is weaker than mine, and then exits. I wait a few seconds just to make sure no one comes bursting through the doors before I let the silent tears that have been pooling in my eyes drip down my face. I don't even bother putting my head on the table, but I make sure I'm facing away from the door.
A good minutes passes before I hear the door slam open suddenly. I turn around to see Andrew has re-entered the room. He is frowning deeply. I wonder why he looks so sad but then it dawns upon me. I'm still crying. I turn my chair around and try to will the tears to stop while quickly wiping them away. I hear footsteps approach me as the last tears dry. Finally the footsteps stop and my chair swivels as I am spun around. I come face to face with Andrew as he kneels on the ground to be level with me. I hold my breath. I can't help but notice the close proximity between us. It is the closest I have ever been to him. I feel my armpits start to sweat as I become more nervous for what Andrew will say.
I look, no stare at him, waiting for him to say something. He doesn't. The tension is too much for me so I finally speak up. "Uhm, can I help you?"
He pushes a hair out of my face, causing me to freeze. "You lied to me."
I blink. What is he talking about? "What?"
"You lied to me. You said you were alright, but you're not."
I gulp, looking away. "I am," I say as believable as possible.
He looks at me skeptically. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Then why were you crying?"
"I…" I stop, not knowing what to say. Then a lie quickly pops into my head. "Well I am allergic to cats and I'm pretty sure someone came in with cat hairs on their clothes, thus an allergic reaction causing the tears you just saw." I smile at the end, trying to add validity to my lies.
He gives me a sidelong look. "Really?"
"Really. I mean, if you don't believe I'm allergic to cats, I can get my electronic medical records right now and show them to you."
He waves his hand dismissively. "Oh I believe you're allergic to cats. That's not the problem. The problem is you are lying through your teeth to me about why you were just crying."
I begin to object, but he cuts me off. "You were crying because of Jennifer."
My mouth drops, not believing he just said that. I look away, mumbling, "I don't know what you're talking about."
He quirks an eyebrow, giving a snort. "Yes you do. Jennifer was saying all those things, and they were upsetting you. So, when me and her left, you just broke down."
He looks at me, waiting for a reaction. I look at the ground, stunned. Why the hell is he acting like a…douche? This is not the kind, sweet guy I know. This is not the guy who sat next to me every day in English, giving me butterflies in my stomach. Before I can stop myself, I let out a sob and start crying, running out of the room. I see a set of stairs leading to the roof of the hotel. I crush through the doors, running the hardest I've ever done in a while. I hear Andrew call after me, but I ignore him. I don't want to hear anything he has to say. After several flights of stairs, I reach the roof. The building isn't very tall and the temperature is just perfect outside on this May night. Surprising, there are a couple of lawn chairs present. Why? I don't know considering this is Michigan, not really the ideal sunbathing location.
I sit on a chair, holding my legs tightly against my chest, and just cry. The door opens to show Andrew. He looks around until his eye catches me lying on the chair. I groan before getting up and walking away from him, not even bothering to stop crying since he already knows I am.
"Selena," he says, speed walking towards me, causing me to walk faster. He sighs loudly. "Selena, please stop. We need to talk."
I look over my shoulders, exclaiming, "I don't want to talk to you. I don't want anything to do with you." He runs towards me and I try to loop around towards the door, my only way to escape. It's no use though because he is a track star and I'm... well let's just say the only reason I'm on the tennis team is because my Dad is forcing me to play a sport. He catches up home and wraps his arms around my waist, stopping me. Before tonight, the prospect of him holding me in his arms would have made my heart melt. Now, I want nothing more than to be away from him.
I trust to push his arms away from me, but my complete lack of muscles doesn't help. "Andrew let me go!"
He does the opposite, turning me around and pulling me even closer to him, if that is physically possible. "Stop struggling, it will only make this harder for you."
I reluctantly agree. "Will you let me go now?" I say through gritted teeth.
"No."
I sigh. "Why not?"
"Because I don't want to let you go."
I smush my eyebrows together, scowling. "Oh really? And why would you want to hold on to me, pathetic and sad Selena?"
He replies within a beat. "Because I like you."
I try to step back, but I can't. He can't possibly like me. This is a joke. Some cruel joke. I shake my head. "No, no you don't. You can't possibly like me. No one likes me. Why would anyone like me? I mean…" I trail off when Andrew clamps his hand on my mouth.
"For a girl who never talks, you're doing an awful lot of talking right now."
I glare at him but he ignores it.
"Selena, I know I upset you by what I said. And I now realize that my plan was faulty."
I open my mouth to ask exactly what the hell he is talking about, but he just clamps down even harder. "No interrupting. I'm going to explain everything, and you have no choice but to listen." I reluctantly nod my head in agreement. "So I like you. I have liked you since ninth grade when your brother Nick pointed you out to me in the hallway one day. Then in tenth grade, we had our first class together. We didn't really talk, but when we did, I was so incredibly happy. I never had the guts to ask you out because I wasn't sure that you actually liked me back and I didn't want to be rejected. So senior prom comes around and I decide I was going to go for it. The worst that could happen is you would say no and we would never see each other again after graduation. I didn't want to ask you directly to the dance because I couldn't build up the courage. I decided trying to make you jealous would be the best option, or at least that is what my brother said would work best… And that leads us here, me as Jennifer's date. Jennifer being a bitch to you, and then me acting like an ass." After his speech, he takes a deep breath and finally lets me go.
I step back, soaking in his story. After standing deep in thought on how I want to react, I do. "Andrew," I say emotionless.
"Yeah?" he replies cautiously.
When I speak to him, I look him in the eyes, full of confidence. "What the hell were you thinking? That is the most fucked up plan I have ever heard." His mouth drops, but I plow on through. "If you wanted to ask me out, you should have just asked me out. You didn't have to make me jealous and act like a total dick."
His cheeks begin to redden with embarrassment. "Really?" he says timidly.
I tilt my head down, rubbing my eyes in disbelief. "Of course. I may be shy, but I'm not an idiot. I would be a fool to reject you because I really like you."
Now he is the one looking at me in disbelief. "You're serious?"
I roll my eyes. "Duh. Why do you think I sat in the corner behind you in History? Or in English when you sat next to me, I would always look away when you glanced in my direction? Sometimes in class, I would cover my face with my hair so I could look at you out off the corner of my eye. And when we did the project and we sat next to each other on the bench, I kept glancing around, hoping you wouldn't notice how nervous I was talking to you. And when you came and saw me crying, it wasn't because of the mean things Jennifer said or jealousy—okay so I was a little jealous, but it was because I thought you didn't like me. I felt like I wasn't good enough for you." What started as a confident testimony has turned into a not so confident sob story with me looking down at the ground, sadly kneading my hands.
Andrew grabs my hands and holds them, inspecting them. "Well, we are both idiots. Because there is no way you are not good enough for me. In fact, it should be the opposite because you are way more worthy of someone else's affection." Saying this, he intertwines our hands.
I look down at them, smiling. "I think I will determine that myself." Looking up from our hands, I see him looking at me fondly.
"You want to get out of here?" he says pulling me close. "I know a diner with the most amazing cheesecake."
My smile widens. "I love cheesecake."
He lets go of my hands and wraps an arm around my waist as we begin walking towards the stairs. "I know."
"Wait," I say looking at him. "How do you know I like cheesecake?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I just do."
"That is not an acceptable answer."
"Yes it is."
"No it isn't."
He stops us when we reach the stairs and turns me towards him. Within seconds, his lips are on mine and just as quickly, they are gone. He grabs my waist again but not before whispering in my ear, "Yes it is." I roll my eyes and accept his answer. We head down the stairs to the diner. When leaving the hotel, we pass many couples who look at us quizzically, probably wondering how I ended up with him. I just smile internally, because they will never know the story.
I sit down, taking in the scene before me: a masquerade theme prom. The designs are spectacular, the food doesn't taste like plastic, and the DJ is actually playing adequate music. I smile, proud of what is all around me. And I should be proud, I did after all organize this, just didn't get a date to it is all…
My remorseful thoughts are cut short when I hear footsteps followed by giggling coming towards me. I grab order forms and pens, prepared for the next customers. When I look I'm startled by who is standing in front of me. My crush, Andrew, is here, at prom, with a date. I clamp my mouth shut and look away, trying to control my emotions.
"Hi Selena!" Andrew's chipper date, Jennifer, says. I look at her and smile weakly, still keeping quiet. I like Jennifer. No scratch that; I liked Jennifer. I've had a few classes with her and she is really sweet and mildly intelligent. Now however, I will forever have a deep hatred for her because she managed to snag the guy I had been crushing on for three years. Pushing aside my distaste for the situation, I hand them the order forms and step back, rocking back and forth on my heels, looking at the ceiling, waiting for this terrible event to end.
After about a minute they hand me the forms and the money. After quickly putting them away with the others, I dash behind the camera as they stand in front of a 16th century masquerade ball backdrop. I stabilize myself before speaking for the first time. "So how do you guys want to be positioned?" I ask, my voice giving off a slight sense of nervousness. With any other couple I would position the guy slightly behind the girl and have him wrap his arms around his waist. However, with them I'm hoping that maybe they are here just as friends, thus not wanting to touch each other in that way. Without speaking, Jennifer positions Andrew behind her, taking his arms and wrapping them around her waist. She smiles brightly towards me. "Is this okay, or do we need to get closer to fit in the frame?" I take in a deep breath, looking down at the ground in dismay since my theory has been disproved. Pulling myself together I look back up, trying to look as unfazed as possible.
"No, you guys are fine. I just need Andrew to angle himself a hair this way," I say, motioning with my hand my request. He complies. "Okay, I'm going to take three pictures. On the count of three, I will take the picture." I look through the camera lenses, prepared to take the pictures and be done with them. "One, two, three…" Click. The flash goes off. I repeat the process two more times until finally all the shots I need are taken. I go back to my station and begin looking at the pictures. Before starting, I say," Your pictures will be available for pick up at the school a week from now." Hopefully this will cause them to leave immediately because I don't want to look at them any longer. Seeing them together shows how shy and how much of a loser I truly am.
I look at my laptop, listening to the sound of footsteps. Only the footsteps aren't receding but getting closer. I groan internally. What could they possibly want now? I spin my chair around. I open my mouth to speak, mind you clueless as to what I will say, but Jennifer beats me to the punch. "So why are you here as a photographer instead of with a date?"
My eyes widen and my breath hitches in my throat. The question is surprising, out of nowhere, and quite frankly, none of her business. "I…" I stop myself from saying anymore because what am I suppose to say? Well the reason I am here as a photographer instead of with a date is because you are here with the one guy I would actually consider going to a public social function with. And if not that should I admit there is not a guy in the whole suburb who would even consider going with me? Instead of saying anything, I simply shrug my shoulders as if it is no big deal, when in reality the whole situation hurts me.
"Oh come on," she says, playfully tapping me on the shoulder, much to my distaste. "There has got to be some guy you wanted to come with. And if not, why not go along with a group of your friends?" she says this playfully, but I can't help feel as if she is taunting me, as if this is fun to her, as if maybe, just maybe, she knows I like Andrew.
"Prom is just no big deal to me," I say. And it's true, however, not the whole truth. While it would be nice to have a date to prom, I'm not disappointed, nor am I surprised. I haven't been asked to a single dance, ever. Not in middle school, not in high school, never. My freshmen and sophomore years I went to homecoming with my friends, but they went as couples, so I was always just a third wheel. They invited me to go to prom with them, but I said no. I couldn't deal with being just a third wheel again, being a complete loser. I couldn't deal with being possibly the only dateless girl at prom tagging along with my wacky friends. I wasn't going to come at all but last minute my boss called and asked me to cover prom since he was out of town taking pictures of a wedding. At first, I denied and denied multiple times. There was no way in hell I was going to take pictures of my classmates. I knew the second they leave the photography room they would start making fun of me, the girl who couldn't get a date to prom so she went as a photographer instead. After much coaxing and promise of a good pay from this job, I took the job. This leaves me here, dateless at prom, watching my crush stand with another girl as she berates me.
I turn back to the photos, hoping this will cue her to drop the topic. "How can prom not be a big deal?" she says shrilling, causing me to have the urge to chuck my laptop at her face and run. But I don't. I clutch my hands into little fists and turn around, containing my anger.
"Jennifer," I say calmly, but with enough malice to warn her of my apprehension. "If you don't mind, which I don't care if you do or don't, I have a job to do. So it would be much appreciated if you take your da—" I almost say date, but I stop myself, more for my sake than hers. To call Andrew her date would be admitting he is someone else's and can't possibly be mine, and that is something I am just not ready to believe yet. I start the sentence over. "It would be much appreciated if you take Andrew and leave me alone. You are here for the dance, not to belittle the photographer." Her eyes widen at the last part as do mine. I didn't realize what I was saying until it was too late. But it doesn't matter. So she knows I don't like her antagonizing me; I don't care.
She gets Andrew's hand, whose face I dare not look at because I don't want to see what he thinks of me, and walks away. Not however, before I hear her quickly mumble to him, "No wonder she doesn't have a date, she is such a bitch." Her last words sting into my memory as they exit the room. I stare at the floor, shocked. I have been called many names in my life. Loser. Freak. Weirdo. Nerd. Orc Dork. Drama Geek. Never before have I been called a bitch. Even though I wasn't directly called a bitch, it stills hurts because I don't feel like I deserved to be called that. What did I do wrong, state my opinion? Since when is that a bad thing? All I ever do is be a quite little girl and keep my mouth shut. But the one time I talk, the one time I want to be heard, I am called a bitch.
I turn back to the pictures, shaking my head. I won't let this faze me. It's just a word. To let one word from some girl I will not remember in five years shake me is ridiculous. Opening the laptop, I look at the three pictures I took of them. I can't help it; I look only at Andrew. He is after all, my crush and since he isn't on Facebook and I never buy a yearbook, now is the only chance I will get to really look at a picture of him. I look at his face, his eyes boring into the camera's lenses. I stare at them, a muddy brown. I move down to his mouth, his lips smiling happily. At first this makes me happy, my own mouth twitching into a smile, but the smile fades. It fades because I realize why he is smiling. I realize that he is happy because of her. He is happy she is his date. He is happy because he is wrapping his arm around her. She makes him happy, and that is something I cannot do.
I close the laptop, not able to look at the photos any longer, even though I should choose them now because it will just make me feel worse later on. I rest my head on the table, wiling my thoughts to go away. Instead, they intensify. The next thing I know a tear falls down my face. I lift my head up, a little surprised by its appearance. I'm even more surprised when more start falling. Seconds later the Niagara Falls are streaming from my face and I can't help it; I let them go. I let them go because I realize there is no point in holding them back. The whole situation makes me sad. I've spent years holding back my feelings, but no more. I need the wells to leak out because then, and only then, will I maybe start moving on. Maybe I will find a more…obtainable guy, though I seriously doubt it. With my in head monologue finished, I lower my head and just let it all out.
Suddenly the door springs open, the music from the dance filling the room. I'm about to pop my head up to see who entered but I remember the water emitting from my eyes so I keep my head down and start wiping them away so I appear tired. I clear my throat, hoping it doesn't sound like I was just crying. "Can I help you?" My voice sounds a little croaky, but it can mistakenly be attributed to sleep deprivation. I wipe away the final tears just as I turn around. I freeze, my hands still by my eyes as I see it is Andrew, alone.
He stands there awkwardly, hand behind his head, gaze averting me. And I don't blame him; I probably look like a mess. "Uhm… I, I left my water bottle in here."
I look around confused, not remembering him bringing one. "I don't see a water bottle," I say pointedly. I just want him to leave so I can cry some more. Well I don't want to cry more, but I know it is going to happen, so I would prefer that he of all people wouldn't be present.
"Oh," he says quickly. He glances at me before scanning the room. "I guess you're right."
I quietly scoff. And I'm guessing he didn't actually leave a water bottle in here.
He turns around to leave. He is pushing the door open before he stops. "Are you alright Selena?"
I look at him and I can tell he genuinely means it, which is really surprising. I mean, why would he care about how I am feeling? I look at him closely, looking for any signs this is a joke. But I can't this makes me want to tell him everything. It makes me want to tell him that I hate seeing him with Jennifer. It makes me want to tell him that I like him… I shake the idea out of my head. I can't do that. I don't have an ounce of bravery to do that. So I smile meekly, saying, "Yeah."
He smiles back, though one could say his smile is weaker than mine, and then exits. I wait a few seconds just to make sure no one comes bursting through the doors before I let the silent tears that have been pooling in my eyes drip down my face. I don't even bother putting my head on the table, but I make sure I'm facing away from the door.
A good minutes passes before I hear the door slam open suddenly. I turn around to see Andrew has re-entered the room. He is frowning deeply. I wonder why he looks so sad but then it dawns upon me. I'm still crying. I turn my chair around and try to will the tears to stop while quickly wiping them away. I hear footsteps approach me as the last tears dry. Finally the footsteps stop and my chair swivels as I am spun around. I come face to face with Andrew as he kneels on the ground to be level with me. I hold my breath. I can't help but notice the close proximity between us. It is the closest I have ever been to him. I feel my armpits start to sweat as I become more nervous for what Andrew will say.
I look, no stare at him, waiting for him to say something. He doesn't. The tension is too much for me so I finally speak up. "Uhm, can I help you?"
He pushes a hair out of my face, causing me to freeze. "You lied to me."
I blink. What is he talking about? "What?"
"You lied to me. You said you were alright, but you're not."
I gulp, looking away. "I am," I say as believable as possible.
He looks at me skeptically. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Then why were you crying?"
"I…" I stop, not knowing what to say. Then a lie quickly pops into my head. "Well I am allergic to cats and I'm pretty sure someone came in with cat hairs on their clothes, thus an allergic reaction causing the tears you just saw." I smile at the end, trying to add validity to my lies.
He gives me a sidelong look. "Really?"
"Really. I mean, if you don't believe I'm allergic to cats, I can get my electronic medical records right now and show them to you."
He waves his hand dismissively. "Oh I believe you're allergic to cats. That's not the problem. The problem is you are lying through your teeth to me about why you were just crying."
I begin to object, but he cuts me off. "You were crying because of Jennifer."
My mouth drops, not believing he just said that. I look away, mumbling, "I don't know what you're talking about."
He quirks an eyebrow, giving a snort. "Yes you do. Jennifer was saying all those things, and they were upsetting you. So, when me and her left, you just broke down."
He looks at me, waiting for a reaction. I look at the ground, stunned. Why the hell is he acting like a…douche? This is not the kind, sweet guy I know. This is not the guy who sat next to me every day in English, giving me butterflies in my stomach. Before I can stop myself, I let out a sob and start crying, running out of the room. I see a set of stairs leading to the roof of the hotel. I crush through the doors, running the hardest I've ever done in a while. I hear Andrew call after me, but I ignore him. I don't want to hear anything he has to say. After several flights of stairs, I reach the roof. The building isn't very tall and the temperature is just perfect outside on this May night. Surprising, there are a couple of lawn chairs present. Why? I don't know considering this is Michigan, not really the ideal sunbathing location.
I sit on a chair, holding my legs tightly against my chest, and just cry. The door opens to show Andrew. He looks around until his eye catches me lying on the chair. I groan before getting up and walking away from him, not even bothering to stop crying since he already knows I am.
"Selena," he says, speed walking towards me, causing me to walk faster. He sighs loudly. "Selena, please stop. We need to talk."
I look over my shoulders, exclaiming, "I don't want to talk to you. I don't want anything to do with you." He runs towards me and I try to loop around towards the door, my only way to escape. It's no use though because he is a track star and I'm... well let's just say the only reason I'm on the tennis team is because my Dad is forcing me to play a sport. He catches up home and wraps his arms around my waist, stopping me. Before tonight, the prospect of him holding me in his arms would have made my heart melt. Now, I want nothing more than to be away from him.
I trust to push his arms away from me, but my complete lack of muscles doesn't help. "Andrew let me go!"
He does the opposite, turning me around and pulling me even closer to him, if that is physically possible. "Stop struggling, it will only make this harder for you."
I reluctantly agree. "Will you let me go now?" I say through gritted teeth.
"No."
I sigh. "Why not?"
"Because I don't want to let you go."
I smush my eyebrows together, scowling. "Oh really? And why would you want to hold on to me, pathetic and sad Selena?"
He replies within a beat. "Because I like you."
I try to step back, but I can't. He can't possibly like me. This is a joke. Some cruel joke. I shake my head. "No, no you don't. You can't possibly like me. No one likes me. Why would anyone like me? I mean…" I trail off when Andrew clamps his hand on my mouth.
"For a girl who never talks, you're doing an awful lot of talking right now."
I glare at him but he ignores it.
"Selena, I know I upset you by what I said. And I now realize that my plan was faulty."
I open my mouth to ask exactly what the hell he is talking about, but he just clamps down even harder. "No interrupting. I'm going to explain everything, and you have no choice but to listen." I reluctantly nod my head in agreement. "So I like you. I have liked you since ninth grade when your brother Nick pointed you out to me in the hallway one day. Then in tenth grade, we had our first class together. We didn't really talk, but when we did, I was so incredibly happy. I never had the guts to ask you out because I wasn't sure that you actually liked me back and I didn't want to be rejected. So senior prom comes around and I decide I was going to go for it. The worst that could happen is you would say no and we would never see each other again after graduation. I didn't want to ask you directly to the dance because I couldn't build up the courage. I decided trying to make you jealous would be the best option, or at least that is what my brother said would work best… And that leads us here, me as Jennifer's date. Jennifer being a bitch to you, and then me acting like an ass." After his speech, he takes a deep breath and finally lets me go.
I step back, soaking in his story. After standing deep in thought on how I want to react, I do. "Andrew," I say emotionless.
"Yeah?" he replies cautiously.
When I speak to him, I look him in the eyes, full of confidence. "What the hell were you thinking? That is the most fucked up plan I have ever heard." His mouth drops, but I plow on through. "If you wanted to ask me out, you should have just asked me out. You didn't have to make me jealous and act like a total dick."
His cheeks begin to redden with embarrassment. "Really?" he says timidly.
I tilt my head down, rubbing my eyes in disbelief. "Of course. I may be shy, but I'm not an idiot. I would be a fool to reject you because I really like you."
Now he is the one looking at me in disbelief. "You're serious?"
I roll my eyes. "Duh. Why do you think I sat in the corner behind you in History? Or in English when you sat next to me, I would always look away when you glanced in my direction? Sometimes in class, I would cover my face with my hair so I could look at you out off the corner of my eye. And when we did the project and we sat next to each other on the bench, I kept glancing around, hoping you wouldn't notice how nervous I was talking to you. And when you came and saw me crying, it wasn't because of the mean things Jennifer said or jealousy—okay so I was a little jealous, but it was because I thought you didn't like me. I felt like I wasn't good enough for you." What started as a confident testimony has turned into a not so confident sob story with me looking down at the ground, sadly kneading my hands.
Andrew grabs my hands and holds them, inspecting them. "Well, we are both idiots. Because there is no way you are not good enough for me. In fact, it should be the opposite because you are way more worthy of someone else's affection." Saying this, he intertwines our hands.
I look down at them, smiling. "I think I will determine that myself." Looking up from our hands, I see him looking at me fondly.
"You want to get out of here?" he says pulling me close. "I know a diner with the most amazing cheesecake."
My smile widens. "I love cheesecake."
He lets go of my hands and wraps an arm around my waist as we begin walking towards the stairs. "I know."
"Wait," I say looking at him. "How do you know I like cheesecake?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I just do."
"That is not an acceptable answer."
"Yes it is."
"No it isn't."
He stops us when we reach the stairs and turns me towards him. Within seconds, his lips are on mine and just as quickly, they are gone. He grabs my waist again but not before whispering in my ear, "Yes it is." I roll my eyes and accept his answer. We head down the stairs to the diner. When leaving the hotel, we pass many couples who look at us quizzically, probably wondering how I ended up with him. I just smile internally, because they will never know the story.