a handshake
By –another moment gone-
:::-:::
1. October 4th
It's funny how the guy you have been around for your entire life, can slowly and easily slip into your view more and more—with a completely different perspective in tact.
You run your eyes sleepily as he slides into the chair directly in front of you, and yawns himself.
It's first period and everyone seems to be in sleepy-state.
You can't forget the first time he turned around to lock eyes with you. Your first conversation, you hoped, to be able to tell your kids about—for the future.
"What day is it?" He asked in a sultry voice that you assumed, he didn't even realize he had. You stared at him blankly and shortly you realized he was waiting for an answer.
"Er—" you stammer nervously, chastising yourself for even being nervous in front of the class clown. "It's," you dart your eyes to the black board to check yourself. "October 4th."
He nods dismissively, thanks you in that quiet voice, and turns back around.
You stare with wide eyes, trying to comprehend what just happened. Finally you shake your head crazily and pick up your mechanical pencil and doodle October 4th over and over again on your white lined paper. You weren't even sure why you doodled the date, instead of his name, but you did it anyway.
:::-:::
2. Fleece Coats
You watched his chocolaty brown eyes stare after her as she sauntered with grace that she was aware of—she had to be—not even noticing the totally hot boy's eyes trailing after her like a puppy dog.
Your locker was next to his, you realized in a daze, as you two walked out of the classroom to your lockers. Why hadn't you noticed his presence before?
"Hey, Dylan, right?" He asked you that cold winter morning. You shut your locker slowly, your eyes tightly closed—hoping that this isn't a dream.
"Yeah?" You squeak.
"There's a dance coming up," his eyes subtly look over at that majestic gorgeous, brunette. You try not to notice the desire in his burning eyes. "And I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?"
You look down at your book in hand—Macbeth. He swiftly glazes his eyes at the brunette who was twiddling a purple mechanical pencil in her hand.
"Sure."
He grins tightly, glances once more at the amber-eyed princess, and scurries off to join his friends. You watch his retreating figure, noticing—grudgingly—how adorable he looks in that red winter fleece.
You lean against the locker with a huge sigh. You watch your chest rise and fall slowly; you count to ten Mississippi and open your eyes.
You're falling fast and hard.
:::-:::
3. A Purple Mechanical Pencil
You're sitting uneasily in your History seat, apprehension burned into your gut. He hasn't arrived yet but you pray he'll be in school today.
"Sorry I'm late—" He pants as he runs in, ignoring the teacher's annoyed glance and everyone's giggles. You smile slightly, trying not to be charmed by the fact that his hair is I just rolled out of bed style, and his shirt is crinkled.
He can pull off that look:
He can pull off any look, you decide.
He slides into his seat with ease and looks at you quickly then looks back down at his hands. You can't help but notice that he has a shiny purple mechanical pencil in his hand.
You could swear you've seen it before.
"Oh!" You whisper aloud. You blush as a couple heads turn, including his, and rub your forehead in embarrassment. You swear you could hear his laughter under his breath.
That makes you smile, no matter how hard you tried to repress it. It couldn't be held back.
:::-:::
4. Punch
You check your reflection for the 3rd time before slipping out of your room, careful not to trip down the stairs, and out the door into the freezing cold air. You walk meticulously, breathing in the icy air and watching the puffs of clouds come out as you breathe out. It was a cold winter evening.
"Hey." He greets you, a solemn look placating his gorgeous face. You look away, trying not to fall even harder, and faster—if possible.
"Hi." You curtly say, focusing all your attention on the outside window—watching the snow covered trees brush by you two.
"Tonight's going to be fun," he says after a moment of not quite uncomfortable silence, but uneasy silence.
"Yup."
"I can't wait to see everyone," he mumbles, looking at you in such a way, that made you think of an apologetic face expression. What? "You look great by the way." He adds, turning his attention back to the rode.
You nod. "Thanks; you too."
Biggest understatement, ever.
:::
You two arrive there a few minutes late and he takes your arm and leads you in. The lights are bright and blinding. Many colored dresses and tucks are all over; swirling, dashing.
You look at him as he looks past you—searching for her, you know with a pang in your chest.
You feel so lucky and unlucky at the same time. Lucky to be his date—even if it's all moot; unlucky to not be who he wants you to be.
His eyes shift and immediately they brighten—she's here.
She's in a long white dress, golden earrings dangling, long lashes, glossed lips—she looks even more beautiful. And he sees that too.
"Massie!" He calls over the loud music.
She turns her head towards you two—a quick once over you, and then an elated smile graces her lips as she locks eyes with him. You sigh and stand awkwardly. You want to walk away, but his arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist.
"Hi, there." She calmly says; trailing behind her is the one and only, Derrick Harrington.
"Hey man." Derrick greets your date with enthusiasm. "Hi." He says to you.
"Oh, yes, hi. I almost didn't see you," she states in an apologetic voice. Anger sweeps over you but you don't do anything but grit you teeth.
Bull shit!
"Hi." You coldly say.
He looks at you for a moment then grins at her. Then he leans down at your ear and whispers. At first you were hoping he'd ask you to dance, or in your wildest dreams, tell you he loves you, but disappointment was a bitch after all.
"Do you mind if I ask her to dance?"
Your heart sinks.
"No, go ahead." You force yourself to say.
"Thanks, I owe you one." He smiles brightly and asks her to dance with such nervousness that it made you realize how much of a lucky bitch she is.
The two saunter away; perfect as ever.
The perfect couple.
"Derrick, let's dance." You decide tightly, your throat locked and your eyes watery.
"Sure."
You two dance an awkward dance and when the song ends, you frantically search for him.
He's no where to be seen.
:::
You decide to stop chasing after him for the moment and go get a drink. You make your way through the shifting bodies and when you reach the table your heart drops to your tanned knees.
He's kissing her.
And your punch falls to the floor.
:::-:::
5. A Handshake
You scamper off in a blur, pushing past the people in your way, all the way out the door, and into the cold windy night. The wind bites as your exposed body and your wrap your arms around your chest—trying to stop the ache there.
"Hello?" Derrick calls.
"What do you want?" You ask flatly, your body in a heap on the ground, facing away from the building.
"Are you okay?" He asks shyly.
"Yes." You grumble.
He sits down next to you, a sad smile on his face, his eyes not meeting yours.
"You sure?"
You look at him through blurry, wet eyes.
"N—yes."
He nods, understanding you don't want him nearby so he gets up and offers his hand for you.
You shake it politely, ignoring his puzzled stare, and he tracks back, hands in pocket, head ducked down under.
:::-:::
You can't even find the words for all the lies,
Or why gravity defies.
You want to say goodbye,
But you know that's all beside;
Because he's stolen what can not be given back,
Simply 'cause it's a given fact.
You should've seen it coming, anyway.
So why bother?
Review.
-another moment gone-