Title: Grandma Said
A.N. He was pretty sweet to her, no? Read and Review.
"Only idiots fall in love with the girl they can't have."
That's what your grandma always muttered under her breath when you'd visit her after Sunday church service in the city. You distinctly remember her rough voice breaking into a cough afterwards, a sad attempt at laughter, and you shook your head at her with a grin. She was talking about her late husband, the one who passed away two weeks before you were born. He was a poor, African American man who had only a single dollar in coins in his pocket and the clothes on his back when he first laid eyes on your grandma.
She was the daughter of a wealthy, white business associate. They shouldn't have been together; she was supposed to be something he couldn't have. But he chased and chased, and ("A natural-borne idiot, your grandpapa was. The trait must have passed down." Grandma loved to say) he died due to a freak accident. You never took her stories without a grain of salt; she was a senile old lady who probably wouldn't have remembered your name if it wasn't the same as her late husband's. Still, that one particular story always came to mind.
Puberty wasn't the nicest to you in Middle School. While the other boys shot up in size, you were barely five feet tall. Glasses hung loosely on the bridge of your nose and braces covered your teeth in a messy mishmash of silver and red (you always picked the red beads; you loved feeling like a vampire). Still, no matter how many times your fellow students would laugh at you for pursuing all the "hot" girls, you'd never give up.
Grandpa did it; why couldn't you?
"Only idiots fall in love with the girl they can't have."
"Do they succeed?"
You'd chase after what you couldn't have because maybe you were an idiot, but being an idiot didn't mean you couldn't win.
Over the summer into High School, you grew and matured and you left that awkward stage of puberty. Still, you began to chase after more and more difficult, stunning women, and more often than not, you'd be rejected. Still, the thought of giving up never crossed your mind. You have an unhealthy obsession to things you probably can't have, and you acknowledge it.
Maybe that's why you're so damned attracted to that beautiful girl. Fiona, was it?
It has to be that weird addiction of yours, you try convincing yourself, it has to be. Still, the moment your eyes meet hers, you feel a pounding in your chest and despite your confident persona, you feel that little boy Mike start to slip through. Little boy Mike really likes her, and you begin to realize this feeling came out even before you found out she was gay.
No worries. You shake your head clear of all thoughts, but as soon as they leave, more come.
Might as well move on, mate. She's a lesbian. She doesn't want you
You don't know that for sure. Maybe I can be the exception.
Doubt it, chap. Throw in the towel, hang up your hat, toss in your jacket; Mike Dallas is the only idiot in this whole school who would fall in love with a lesbian of all people.
Shut up.
Regaining composure, you shake your head and smile at her as charmingly as you can. It hides your nervous grin pretty well and her warm eyes are studying you although with a little more annoyance than before. You hope she's not thinking anything bad about you so when her girlfriend appears you try acting coy.
Didn't work out very well.
When her girlfriend leaves angry, you know you should be feeling a small sense of victory or something but she's frowning and her eyes look darker and there's a throbbing in your chest.
So you met this chick five minutes ago and you're convinced you're in love with her.
That annoying voice is back.
"Only idiots fall in love with the girl they can't have."
"Do they succeed?"
"Not really. That's why we call them idiots."
Mike Dallas chases but he doesn't fall in love. No way.
Pushing the voice out of your head, you smile and offer advice. She's beautiful when she's smiling.
Mike Dallas isn't in love.
Maybe just a little.
Before you know it, you're partying with everyone and you see the two escape someplace together and you should feel angry or maybe jealous. You should yell out the two dykes are leaving somewhere to suck face or something but your voice dies out in your throat. A visual image of Fiona, harassed and crying, crosses your mind and you can't move.
A week later, almost everyone knows the two girls are together. Imogen smiles at you, a tight-lipped yet carefree grin, and you try to return one back but you mostly grimace. This is the girl Fiona loves. Still, you can't blame her. You know you can't blame her. Fiona is gay and even if she wasn't with Imogen, she'd sure as hell not want to be with you.
Sometimes you wish your grandpa was here. He'd know what to do. He'd been through something like this.
Knocking yourself out of your thoughts, you see Fiona walking to you with a huge smile (God, she's gorgeous) and she gives you a warm embrace. Maybe she won't let go, you think. Closing your eyes, it's almost real. She's the first to pull away.
"So I was wondering if you'd like to go out tomorrow? To thank you for being such a wonderful guy to me."
Your heart is thumping miles per minute as her hand gently lands on your shoulder.
A touch.
For a second, you feel special. Important, even.
For a moment, you think maybe she loves you.
"Imogen heard of this really good restaurant near the port and if you can get yourself a girl by tomorrow, we should all go together. Like a double date."
She smiles as your heart breaks.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can hear your grandma's voice and she's repeating the same word over and over and over again.
Idiot.