"Cool"
By. Aliquis
"You know, if I had seen you, I definitely would have invited you to my party."
Larry stared, completely oblivious to the music and the people around them as they swayed to the slow beat. "Aw, stop it, you're making me blush."
Miranda nearly frowned at the odd comment, "Boy's don't blush."
"They do when girls like you flirt with them." Miranda was taken aback, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. This was possibly the most romantic she had ever seen any guy be before. Scooting a little bit closer now, she placed her arms shyly around her mystery dancer's neck and looked curiously into his eyes, trying to see past his yellow tinted sunglasses. He was so handsome. Miranda's stomach did identical flips with his, though neither knew it. Larry nervously bit his lip before inwardly scolding himself. Don't loose your composure, man. Act cool. Larry could not help but sternly remind himself that guys like him never get chances like this. To feel the girl of his dreams in his arms, even if she didn't' necessarily know it was him, was something close to heaven. Not even winning role-playing games felt this good.
"So, Lawrence, what school do you go to?"
"Hillridge." He responded immediately.
Miranda looked surprised, "Really? I've never seen you there before." Larry froze. Had he revealed too much? His palms were sweating, and he didn't know how to answer. For that matter, he didn't want to hide himself behind his fake clothes, or his stupid glasses anymore. He and Miranda had now moved so closely together, that her sweet breath was warming his collarbone. Every moment spent in that position made him feel more and more guilty for ever deceiving her, his wonderful Miranda, for even wanting to be in the same room with her. He had just felt left out, but now that he thought about it, who was he trying to fool? She would never date him. Period. Every time she looked his way, it was always that same dismissive, passing glance. And it tore holes through his heart. Now, his feelings all but exposed and very frightened, Larry decided that the time for playing games was over. He removed his yellow glasses. Miranda looked confused. Holding his breath and hoping against hope that she would not react the way he only feared she would, Larry brought his shaking hand down in one fell swoop over his styled hair, mussed it up, and restored it to his semi-normal state, appearing before Miranda no longer as Lawrence, mystery boy, but as who he had always been: Larry Tudgman.
She opened her mouth wide and screamed.
It was sort of like in those horribly sequenced romance films; where the loser getting rejected can do nothing but watch his life slowly fall to pieces. There was this breathtaking pause, at least for him, when Miranda had finally figured out it was Larry Tudgeman and not some hunk, and her eyes had filled with disgust. Disgust and shock. In that moment Larry's dreams lay shattered in the pit of his chest, and his body had crumbled into a fit of shivers. He was not fit to stand beside her. After all, he was a vile thing to her, and why would she want to touch him, even for a little while? Even if it did make his heart stop with joy? None of it mattered, though, because other than that one yell nothing really happened. There was no slow motion shock, the music didn't stop--which would have been infinitely worse-- but he sure did get some stares. Who wouldn't? Miranda really can scream. After being dragged by the hand away from the dance floor, Larry looked to the ground, trying his hardest to flush the embarrassment away from his cheeks. He deserved what he got.
Miranda was furious. Betrayed, by her best friends! Now the party that she had worked so hard on was most definitely ruined. People were staring!
"Lizzie, Gordo!" Miranda's voice screeched, "Can you explain this?" she violently rang Larry's hand in her own, and he winced.
Gordo stepped forward hesitantly, "Miranda, we just thought that, this way, everybody would win."
Miranda paused, turning to Larry who held his breath and prepared himself to be pummeled. "No." she said coldly. Sparing a look over her shoulder, Miranda thought over the situation. No one was watching her, at least, not anymore, but Tudgeman was. She felt herself shiver. He was sort of creepy, but a good person, she tried to remind herself. Looking over his attire, Miranda knew she was being deceived by her own thoughts when the first word that came to mind was "cute". This was Tudgeman, Larry Tudgeman, and yet he looked so good right now. Where she would have normally been repelled, Miranda found the beginning of an attraction form in the pit of her stomach. She shocked herself with the idea. Ew! Gross! She thought, trying to match this good-looking guy in front of her with the same nerd who had probably never heard of "shampoo" before tonight. However, as hard as she tried, there was nothing to disguise the charm that Larry possessed, even without the handsome clothes and slick hairstyle. With all that aside, he was still a boy whom she had known for about as long as she had been a friend to Lizzie and Gordo, and she had behaved horribly to him. Full waves of guilt suddenly slammed into her. She had probably hurt Larry very badly tonight.
Miranda sighed, " No, I was wrong." She squeezed Tudgeman's hand, "Guys, I am sorry for the way I have acted these last couple of days. I have been so uptight. And Larry," She looked him in the eye, her gaze intense, " I'm sorry I didn't invite you. You shouldn't have had to come in disguise." Larry was shocked. No one ever appologized to him.
"I--it's ok." He was no longer looking at the floor, but at Miranda with wonder in his eyes. She was still holding his hand. Turning his thoughts towards her, he bit his lip again sharply before releasing her hand from his. He immediately missed the warmth. Somehow, though, it didn't seem appropriate, knowing that she probably wouldn't want his hands all over her. He frowned disbelievingly. Whoa, wrong track of thought. He shook his head and asked her: "Would you like to go get a drink?"
"Sure." She smiled at him. The music jumped into a faster pace, and they both made their way over to the punch table. Larry was amazed at how easy it was to ask her to do something with him, even if it was to just go to a punch table. He smiled slightly, letting his eyes roam over Miranda's lovely face and wishing that he could kiss those lips. They looked so soft. Mentally shaking himself, Larry stared at his feet. Why was he so shy? Why couldn't he just go for it? Go on. Tell her. Tell her she's beautiful. Larry licked his lips nervously.
"Miranda, you're--"
"Hey, Lizzie, Gordo, want some punch?" Miranda's voice rose loudly over the blaring music. She hadn't heard him. Sighing, Larry helped Miranda pour drinks for the trio, saving his for last. As the red, shimmering liquid splashed around in his plastic cup, Larry wondered if he would ever gather the courage to tell her how he felt. Miranda laughed lightly with her friends beside him, enveloping them into a hug of warmth and love. Larry shuffled his feet slightly, taking a small sip of his juice. Maybe some day.
Some day.
By. Aliquis
"You know, if I had seen you, I definitely would have invited you to my party."
Larry stared, completely oblivious to the music and the people around them as they swayed to the slow beat. "Aw, stop it, you're making me blush."
Miranda nearly frowned at the odd comment, "Boy's don't blush."
"They do when girls like you flirt with them." Miranda was taken aback, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. This was possibly the most romantic she had ever seen any guy be before. Scooting a little bit closer now, she placed her arms shyly around her mystery dancer's neck and looked curiously into his eyes, trying to see past his yellow tinted sunglasses. He was so handsome. Miranda's stomach did identical flips with his, though neither knew it. Larry nervously bit his lip before inwardly scolding himself. Don't loose your composure, man. Act cool. Larry could not help but sternly remind himself that guys like him never get chances like this. To feel the girl of his dreams in his arms, even if she didn't' necessarily know it was him, was something close to heaven. Not even winning role-playing games felt this good.
"So, Lawrence, what school do you go to?"
"Hillridge." He responded immediately.
Miranda looked surprised, "Really? I've never seen you there before." Larry froze. Had he revealed too much? His palms were sweating, and he didn't know how to answer. For that matter, he didn't want to hide himself behind his fake clothes, or his stupid glasses anymore. He and Miranda had now moved so closely together, that her sweet breath was warming his collarbone. Every moment spent in that position made him feel more and more guilty for ever deceiving her, his wonderful Miranda, for even wanting to be in the same room with her. He had just felt left out, but now that he thought about it, who was he trying to fool? She would never date him. Period. Every time she looked his way, it was always that same dismissive, passing glance. And it tore holes through his heart. Now, his feelings all but exposed and very frightened, Larry decided that the time for playing games was over. He removed his yellow glasses. Miranda looked confused. Holding his breath and hoping against hope that she would not react the way he only feared she would, Larry brought his shaking hand down in one fell swoop over his styled hair, mussed it up, and restored it to his semi-normal state, appearing before Miranda no longer as Lawrence, mystery boy, but as who he had always been: Larry Tudgman.
She opened her mouth wide and screamed.
It was sort of like in those horribly sequenced romance films; where the loser getting rejected can do nothing but watch his life slowly fall to pieces. There was this breathtaking pause, at least for him, when Miranda had finally figured out it was Larry Tudgeman and not some hunk, and her eyes had filled with disgust. Disgust and shock. In that moment Larry's dreams lay shattered in the pit of his chest, and his body had crumbled into a fit of shivers. He was not fit to stand beside her. After all, he was a vile thing to her, and why would she want to touch him, even for a little while? Even if it did make his heart stop with joy? None of it mattered, though, because other than that one yell nothing really happened. There was no slow motion shock, the music didn't stop--which would have been infinitely worse-- but he sure did get some stares. Who wouldn't? Miranda really can scream. After being dragged by the hand away from the dance floor, Larry looked to the ground, trying his hardest to flush the embarrassment away from his cheeks. He deserved what he got.
Miranda was furious. Betrayed, by her best friends! Now the party that she had worked so hard on was most definitely ruined. People were staring!
"Lizzie, Gordo!" Miranda's voice screeched, "Can you explain this?" she violently rang Larry's hand in her own, and he winced.
Gordo stepped forward hesitantly, "Miranda, we just thought that, this way, everybody would win."
Miranda paused, turning to Larry who held his breath and prepared himself to be pummeled. "No." she said coldly. Sparing a look over her shoulder, Miranda thought over the situation. No one was watching her, at least, not anymore, but Tudgeman was. She felt herself shiver. He was sort of creepy, but a good person, she tried to remind herself. Looking over his attire, Miranda knew she was being deceived by her own thoughts when the first word that came to mind was "cute". This was Tudgeman, Larry Tudgeman, and yet he looked so good right now. Where she would have normally been repelled, Miranda found the beginning of an attraction form in the pit of her stomach. She shocked herself with the idea. Ew! Gross! She thought, trying to match this good-looking guy in front of her with the same nerd who had probably never heard of "shampoo" before tonight. However, as hard as she tried, there was nothing to disguise the charm that Larry possessed, even without the handsome clothes and slick hairstyle. With all that aside, he was still a boy whom she had known for about as long as she had been a friend to Lizzie and Gordo, and she had behaved horribly to him. Full waves of guilt suddenly slammed into her. She had probably hurt Larry very badly tonight.
Miranda sighed, " No, I was wrong." She squeezed Tudgeman's hand, "Guys, I am sorry for the way I have acted these last couple of days. I have been so uptight. And Larry," She looked him in the eye, her gaze intense, " I'm sorry I didn't invite you. You shouldn't have had to come in disguise." Larry was shocked. No one ever appologized to him.
"I--it's ok." He was no longer looking at the floor, but at Miranda with wonder in his eyes. She was still holding his hand. Turning his thoughts towards her, he bit his lip again sharply before releasing her hand from his. He immediately missed the warmth. Somehow, though, it didn't seem appropriate, knowing that she probably wouldn't want his hands all over her. He frowned disbelievingly. Whoa, wrong track of thought. He shook his head and asked her: "Would you like to go get a drink?"
"Sure." She smiled at him. The music jumped into a faster pace, and they both made their way over to the punch table. Larry was amazed at how easy it was to ask her to do something with him, even if it was to just go to a punch table. He smiled slightly, letting his eyes roam over Miranda's lovely face and wishing that he could kiss those lips. They looked so soft. Mentally shaking himself, Larry stared at his feet. Why was he so shy? Why couldn't he just go for it? Go on. Tell her. Tell her she's beautiful. Larry licked his lips nervously.
"Miranda, you're--"
"Hey, Lizzie, Gordo, want some punch?" Miranda's voice rose loudly over the blaring music. She hadn't heard him. Sighing, Larry helped Miranda pour drinks for the trio, saving his for last. As the red, shimmering liquid splashed around in his plastic cup, Larry wondered if he would ever gather the courage to tell her how he felt. Miranda laughed lightly with her friends beside him, enveloping them into a hug of warmth and love. Larry shuffled his feet slightly, taking a small sip of his juice. Maybe some day.
Some day.