Okay, this idea popped into my head when I was reading Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II. There was one story in it called Why Guys Like Girls, by Kimberly Kirberger, which is the story this one is based off of. Like most of my stories, it's from Daphne's point of view. It's just a little scribble, and really isn't that good.
Forward, sale, forward, ad, ad, forward...
I sigh, clicking tiredly on the delete button. I had no need for advertisements or sales right now, and all the forwards were stupid chain letters that all claimed to give you an awesome love life if you sent them. I already know those don't work. They didn't work for me.
I flash back to the fight three hours ago. I'd been stood up. Again. That alone doesn't give me any right to break up with him, since I guess he'd had pretty good excuses as to why he never showed up at our dates. Except when I drove to his house, trying to stifle my frustration, I saw something that I'd never imagined I'd see. I got out of the car, plastered a smile on my face and walked up to the front door. I got ready to knock, and then froze, since I saw him in the window talking to another girl. A blond. I'd stood there, too shocked to feel hurt, and then I turned, running, trying to hold back my tears. Fred must have seen me, because I heard the front door open behind me. I ignored it.
Then Fred's hand was on my shoulder. I'd swallowed the tears, knowing I cry on the way home if I needed to, and confronted him.
"Who was that?" I demanded, my voice stronger than the rest of me.
"Daph, it's not what you think -" He started to say, but I cut him off.
"That's what they all say, Fred. And you know what happens? The girl always gets her heart shattered into a million pieces. I don't want that!I saw the other girl, Fred! I'm not stupid. I'm leaving." I started to turn around, but then Fred grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.
"Daph, I just found out an hour ago that my dad was having a dinner party. He wanted me to be there. Mia just came onto me." He smiled hopefully. I couldn't help but trust that smile.
But I hesitated. "Then why didn't you call me?"
"I did! You didn't pick up."
Then I remembered my phone ringing, but I'd been to upset to pick up. "Oh, right."
"Honestly, Daph. Don't you trust me?" Fred asked, exasperated.
I was a bit taken aback by his tone, so my answer was a little sharper than strictly nessacery. "Well, how I was supposed to know? As far I had known, I'd been stood up for a little blond chick. When you see stuff like that, it's not hard to throw trust out the window."
"So you're saying you don't trust me?" Fred said, his words almost loud enough that he was shouting.
"Are you blaming me? You're the one who was forceful enough with Mia!" I shouted, getting scared that maybe he was lying.
Fred groaned. "I can't believe this. You know, I thought you might be different -"
"Different as in stupid enough to believe that she was the one who was hitting on someone?"
"Different as in maybe we had something!" He yelled. "But if you're so paranoid that I can't talk to another girl -" He shook his head. "I don't know."
I stared at him in horror. He had been talking to her. He probably had been the one to start the conversation, to invite her to his room.
And he had lied to me. That was the part that made me want to break down.
I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes. "Fred, I think you should go inside." I half-hoped that he'd insist on staying with me, but instead I heard his feet on the pavement, and I heard the front door slam shut. It was over.
I hadn't cried on the way home. I hadn't cried when I'd walked in the door and Daisy had exclaimed, "Daphne, you look terrible!" I hadn't when I saw the picture of me and Fred at the beach sitting casually on my desk.
I sat down on my bed, unsure of what to do. I heard a girl on the TV downstairs cry, "I love you, too." And then I burst into tears. The word too was what got to me. Too makes you feel less alone then ever.
And so here I am, sitting in front of a computer, reading my emails, not caring about the words. It's when I see an email with Fred's name after the word from that I hesitate. I resist the strong urge to delete it and instead open it up. I read the message, and my heart starts beating wildly.
Fights with your girlfriend are hard, it starts. And they usually end up with you kicking yourself in your room, wishing you could turn it all around. I know that's the case for me.
Girls are hard to work out. They don't just want you to tell them that you love them; a lot of the time, they need proof. Cold, hard, proof. That's where most relationships hit a rough spot, I think. It's easy to find proof; it's just hard for a guy to find the courage to show her.
There is a girl in this world who knows I'm talking to her. I'd like to say I'm sorry, and I'd like to prove it. Here's a list of reasons as to not only why guys love girls, but why I love her.
A Few Reasons Why I Love Her:
1: She always smells good, even if it's just shampoo
2: The way her head always finds the right spot on my shoulder
3: The ease with which she fits into my arms
4: The way she kisses me and all of a sudden everything is right in the world
5: How cute she is when she eats
6: The way she takes hours to dress, but in the end it's all worthwhile
7: Because she's always warm, even when it's minus thirty degrees outside
8: The way she looks good no matter what she wears
9: The way she fishes for compliments
10: How cute she is when she argues
11: The way her hand always finds mine
12: The way she smiles
13: The way I feel when I see her name on the caller ID after I've just had a big fight
14: The way she says "Let's not fight anymore," even though I know an hour later...
15: The way she kisses when I do something nice for her
16: The way she kisses me when I say, "I love you"
17: Actually, just the way she kisses me...
18: The way she falls into my arms when she cries
19: Then the way she apologizes for crying over something silly
20: The way she hits me and expects it to hurt
21: Then the way she apologizes when it does hurt (even though I don't admit it)
22: The way she says, "I miss you"
23: The way I miss her
24: The way her tears make me want to change the world so that it doesn't hurt her anymore
I love you, Daphne Blake.
I stared at the screen, blushing and smiling like an idiot. Fred... he'd created an entire list of reasons why he loved me. And it was the most incredible, most beautiful, most wonderful thing I'd ever been able to call my own. Besides Fred.
I acted on impulse then. I grabbed my car keys, and I grabbed my jacket. Yelling a good-bye over my shoulder, I ran for my car. There was an apology I wanted to make, and a thank-you I needed to give.
And then I've got my own list to make.