Thanks for reading! Please review if you think I should continue or end it or whatever you think. And if I continue who do you think the lucky girl will be? Thanks again and I hope you enjoy it. Oh and I don't own anything, Scout's honor.
His desk was a cluttered mess of crumpled up post-it notes and wrappers; pens and various empty water bottles and half empty bottles. Or were they half full? Whatever they were they were boring and depressing so why the hell was he sitting here on a Saturday night watching the meaningless mess? He should really get out. Do something. She was probably out with that New Guy of hers.
Shit.
He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. Aren't there some sorts of self-help guides for this type of thing? God that would be even more depressing. They all say the same thing anyway: distance yourself, get busy, get over it. The first one doesn't work. She's his best friend. He wanted to be there for her, He wanted to be that one that she can come to no matter what. Especially when This Guy messes up.
Wrong train of thought. But come on, This Guy is a wreck. All kinds of messed up. She always had a thing for the downtrodden, tortured souls kicked to the curb by the system of the world. Of course he had to be the one that tried to be better for her. Did she see that? He fit her type perfectly if someone were to spell it out to her.
One day after Some Jerk had crushed her heart for the hundredth time she had pulled out of his embrace and told him softly that he was the only one who understood her and she always knew that he cared. His heart had swelled and happily shot off around his chest. Maybe she finally saw! He called her the next day to make sure she was ok and she had gone back to that piece of shit. He could hear Him in the background laughing as she happily stated that she would call him later. Of course she hadn't though. He hated those moments; those moments when he realized just how much time he spent on her and she could easily brush him off and not accept his affection.
This New Guy, what does He have that he didn't? Besides a few tattoos, anxiety pills, a drinking problem, and old drug addictions he couldn't actually think of anything. Oh and He smoked. Didn't she once say that smoking was the most disgusting thing a person could do? When she had said that she was dating Him, he had felt sick but had responded with an "oh" and a "tell me about this dude, why haven't you ever talked about him before". Then she spewed off all these problems and he had almost laughed. Seriously? She ended with "he's a really great guy" and, sensing his hesitation, had laughed and stated that he "never thought anyone was good enough for her". Of course not, the closest man that could remotely be perfect enough for her would be Jesus and quite frankly that doesn't look like it will be happening anytime soon. This Guy was not even close to 'good enough'. All of the things that were going on with Him. Now, he tried to give people the benefit of the doubt but come on. And with her? She didn't need some idiot dragging problems into her life. So what was so great about This Guy? What did He have that he didn't?
Well He had her. The one huge thing that he didn't have and truthfully ached for.
Sometimes he just wanted to tell the whole world. Show some blatant form of affection (love?) or yell a simple statement that could not be misinterpreted and everyone would know. Maybe a Facebook status. Ha ha! Update your status: Oliver is in love with her. Easy as that.
He logged onto his computer and started up Internet Explorer- he shoved himself from the desk adruptly. What was he thinking? She was happy. And what if it ruined what he already had with her? He had worked too hard for all those years doing this intricate dance around her, trying to ease her into seeing him as something more. (1-2-3-4 Step Forward, Jump Back.) He was playing the slow, unstable game of Guess the Amount of Affection. ("Overthink that Statement, lose turn.")
He stared at the computer screen. What to do? His gaze strayed once again to his littered desk then past the bottles to a mirror. His hair was tousled, his eyes...what? He wasn't a poet. But maybe they were trying to say something to him.
Get over it.
Alright then. He'll tell her. If she doesn't feel the same, too bad. That will make it easier to move on right? It doesn't matter if it makes their friendship awkward. He signed on to AIM. There was nothing she could say that would make him change his mind. He scrolled down the buddy list, ignoring the messages that had popped up, a man on a mission. He finally reached her name and double clicked, beginning to type. Then he noticed her away message:
:-)
He stared.
:-)
A damn group of symbols, seemingly mocking. But they formed an expression he knew she had not felt in a long while. So he stared for a moment longer, his cursor blinking dejectedly as though it understood.
With a click he logged out and stormed out the door, in the process knocking over the water bottles which he now knew for certain were half empty.