Fright Night
Her name had been Ashley Whittaker. And she had been the most beautiful girl in the whole school, every teenage schoolboy's dream. Physically, anyway, but that was primarily what most teenage schoolboys were interested in. She was slim and pretty, with large blue eyes and full red lips and long, blonde hair, and she knew how to dress to reveal her considerable assets to full effect, without coming across as too free with them.
He had met her in the days before he had given up hope, and he had dreamed of winning her for himself. As Valentine's Day approached, he had sent her anonymous bouquets of flowers and gifts, all signed From Your Secret Admirer. Ashley had been thrilled with them, and began asking everyone in the school if they knew who her secret admirer was. Soon the whole school was abuzz with rumors, but no one ever guessed it was him.
On the morning of Valentine's Day, he stood in front of her locker, holding two things behind his back. "Good morning, Ashley," he said, as she arrived.
"Oh…good morning," she said. "What can I do for you, Johnny?"
"I just wanted to give you this," he said, handing her a sealed envelope. "From your secret admirer."
Ashley beamed. "Oh wow, do you know who he is?" she asked, tearing open the envelope and extracting the card from inside. "Maybe today he'll finally let me know…"
She trailed off as she read the message inside: Your Secret Admirer is standing right in front of you.
She looked up at him, stunned. "You?" she asked, astonished.
"Yes," he said, holding out a single red rose to her. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ashley. Will you be my Valentine?"
For a moment, she just stared at him in shock. And then she burst out laughing, a cold, cruel, horrible sound that focused everyone's attention on her. "You're serious?" she asked. "You think I would ever go out with someone like you, Jonathan Crane? Some skinny, ugly, little nerd? You must be crazy! A girl like me could never love someone like you – gorgeous and hideous don't mix, loser! So just take your stupid gifts back!" she said, throwing the card back at his face. "Nobody is ever gonna be your Valentine, freak!"
Her laughter was joined by others, until it seemed the whole school was pointing and jeering and taunting him. He remembered well the feeling of humiliation, the hot tears, the agony…he had felt them all many times before and after.
"Nobody is ever gonna love you, Jonathan Crane!" she laughed.
And then he woke up with a start. The woman next to him in bed stirred. "Mmm…Jonathan?" she yawned. "What is it?"
He let out a sigh of relief, the dream memories fading as his eyes adjusted to the sight of his wife, Emilia Crane, curled up next to him, dozing peacefully. "A dream, my dear," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "A nightmare. Nothing more."
"Good. Go back to sleep," she whispered, cuddling him.
He nodded, curling up against her, but she could hear his heart still hammering and knew he wasn't going back to sleep soon. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked gently, stroking his hair back.
"I doubt you'll want to hear, my dear," he murmured. "It was just a memory, of the first time I ever told a girl I liked her."
"Oh, am I gonna be jealous of this girl?" asked Emilia, grinning at him.
"I should think not," he retorted. "You probably weren't even born yet. And anyway, she wasn't half so pretty as you."
"Liar," retorted Emilia.
"I'm not lying," he said. "She wasn't nearly so attractive. Not as supple or shapely…"
"Mmm, Jonathan, stop," she giggled, as he ran his hands over her body. "You've just made up this dream thing to get sex, haven't you?"
"No, it really happened," he retorted. "It was utterly humiliating. The whole school pointing and laughing, and she telling me I'd never be loved…"
He trailed off. Emilia cuddled closer and kissed him. "She was an idiot, wasn't she?" she murmured. "I expected better taste from you, Jonathan, honestly. A man as intelligent as yourself shouldn't be attracted to a braindead bimbo – no wonder she spurned your advances. She wasn't smart enough to accept them. Unlike some of us," she murmured, giving him encouraging kisses.
Crane kept kissing her as he climbed on top of her. "Oh, my angel," he gasped. "My beautiful, beautiful angel…"
She gasped a little, and giggled. "Oh…I always forget how big it is!" she whispered. "Oh my…oh, Jonathan!"
Suddenly, crying from the neighboring room interrupted things. Emilia smiled, pushing him gently off her. "I just have to attend to your child, excuse me, my love – we'll finish this later."
She kissed him and then headed out of the room to go feed their baby. "She won't settle, Jonathan," Emilia said, returning to their bedroom at last carrying their daughter, who squirmed and fussed in her arms. "Why don't you try working your magic?"
"Of course, my dear," he said, taking the baby from her. "Shh, shh, it's all right, my darling Katrina," he murmured, rocking her. "Nothing to be afraid of in dreams. Go back to sleep, my beautiful angel," he said, kissing her forehead gently.
She cooed happily, smiling up at him as she sucked on her thumb contentedly and shut her eyes. "She's such a Daddy's girl," sighed Emilia, climbing back into bed next to him. "I'm just her food source. She doesn't adore me the way she does you."
"Of course she does, my angel," said Crane, kissing his wife's forehead.
"Then why does she always calm down when you hold her?" asked Emilia.
"I probably bore her – I have that effect on a lot of women," said Crane. "She's probably pretending to be asleep so she doesn't have to look at me."
"No, that's not boredom or revulsion on her face," said Emilia, nodding down at their baby, who was smiling peacefully. "She just loves her Daddy. And so do I," she added, kissing his cheek and cuddling against him. She was asleep in moments with her arms around him, and with his daughter also asleep in his arms, Crane, not wanting to disturb either of them, leaned back on the pillows and shut his eyes, feeling utterly at peace with the world. He was loved by two gorgeous women. So take that, Ashley Whittaker, he thought as he dozed off.