The Life of an Ordinary but Frustrated Girl
I had always laughed at the heroines in the novels I loved so dearly. At how frustrated they got when there love lives didn't quite go the way they had originally planned. The way they made the people around them have lives straight from hell because, they didn't get what they wanted when they wanted it. I had quickly jumped to the conclusion that ordinary people didn't have lives like that. To this day I don't like to admit how very wrong I was.
I was ordinary. I knew it and accepted it. Many girls will spend there young lives waiting for their knight and shining armor to come a sweep them off their feet. Love at first sight, no questions, no problems, just perfection. I knew better. I knew relationships took work, I had seen enough of them fall apart not to doubt that. My parents had lived fairly happy lives; my own sister was happily married, (though I couldn't stand the man myself). I knew that when the time came I would meet that special someone. I was fine with waiting; I didn't need all the drama that went along with relationships in teenage years.
I was shocked when love came up from behind and grabbed me. It was in seventh year and James Potter the one boy I had trouble dealing with changed. The rumor was that his parents had died. I was never one to start anything, so when he didn't pick a fight with me, I didn't pick one with him. It started out slow. Casual nods in the halls, to small words like "Pass the salt." or "How are you?" Eventually we would stay up late working on projects, essays and our head duties.
The larger changes that our friends noticed didn't start occurring until late in October. We would spend free periods that we didn't have any work to do, just talking, or Saturday afternoons patrolling together, when the job hardly required one. It didn't even register that we had progressed from disliking each other to acquaintances and finally to friends. It was my friend Mary who had pointed it out one windy afternoon in December.
I had just denied everything and said we were just friends. At the time we still were. I had no feelings for James Potter, sure he was a nice guy and all, but we were friends that was all at the time. I had pushed her accusations from my mind; at least I thought I had until we went on winter break.
I had gone home to be with my family, while James and his friends stayed at Hogwarts. It wasn't until a week into the holiday that I started to notice the change. My mind would drift to "What could he be doing?" or "Wonder if he's enjoying the break?" these thoughts plagued my mind for days, until I finally came to the conclusion I had sworn would never happen. I liked James Potter.
As soon as I admitted it to myself there was no turning back. My mind was constantly thinking about him. It got to the point where he could have had a halo and I wouldn't have noticed. Everything about him was perfect in my mind. I knew what I was doing wasn't healthy. I was setting myself up to be disappointed or worse heart broken. At that time though I wasn't to that much of an extreme in my feelings for him.
When finally I had to go back to school, I was very nearly dying to just see him. Though I was unsure if my reason to see him was to convince myself I was wrong to like him, or that I had a reason to feel so strongly for him. When I entered the common room, I was extremely disappointed. Not only what I thought I had dreamt of feeling was real, but I embarrassed myself. I had taken one look at him, and my face had gone from my normal pale lack of sun look to that of an over ripe tomato.
James and his friends had just looked at me as if I was a ghost, or a Martian from Mars, "You alright there Evans?" he has called. I had croaked back my "yes" and scurried to my room, where I planned to spend the rest of the year.
It took me a few weeks but I eventually was able to be myself around him again. The only difference now was that I was hyper-aware of him. He could walk into a room and I would be able to sense that he was there. Or I could catch something that was being said about him from across the room. Neither of those things was as bad as what happened to me when he was near.
One day in the middle of February I was sitting on the couch when he came and sat next to me. Right away he launched into an extremely long monologue about some prank he had played on the teachers lounge. I hardly heard a word. As soon as he had sat down, it was as if there was the magnetic field pulling me towards him, and I was doing all in my power just to keep from giving in. I just wanted to lean in and lay my head on his shoulder, or have his arm wrap around my shoulder. Any contact would be better than what I was feeling right than.
I was thankful when he got up to get a book and sit at the table, to start an assignment I had long ago finished. The problem was now I knew that feeling, as much as I didn't want it, I craved it. I was dying by the time March came around, the pull was getting worse, and my resolve to not give in was slowly dissolving.
Then one day when he sat next to me, a shiver ran through me. James must have thought I was cold because he got up and pushed the couch closer to the fire than wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I was in heaven and he didn't even know it.
By the time April came around I was positive I was going to crack. My ability to concentrate when he was around me was non-existent. It had gotten to the point that he had started to notice. Asking me if I "was alright," was there "something bothering me?" I denied everything even though I knew I was far from "alright".
When I did crack I'm not sure who was more surprised him or me. It was a rainy May morning. We were standing by the castle closely huddled. He was talking about how he hoped the rain would stop soon so than he could have perfect Quidditch conditions. I had just looked up at him, than glanced down to his lips, stood on my tippy toes, and pressed my lips to his.
When I pulled away, his faced was slack. I quickly muttered a hurried sorry and ran off. How could I have been so stupid? Now everything was ruined. It wasn't until I was halfway to the dormitories that James finally caught up to me.
"Don't be sorry," he muttered before once again I found my lips pressed to his, except this time it wasn't my doing. The kiss went on for what felt like forever. Before he pulled away and murmured in my hair, "Don't ever be sorry for doing that," and than he was kissing me again.
I had always laughed at girls that were hopeless romantics, and I wouldn't call myself a hopeless romantic, but I was definitely a believer. Love sneaks up on you, and you're helpless to stopping it. My frustration, as painful as it was had paid off. I was an ordinary girl, but love made me feel special, and made my life far from ordinary.