Gray clouds hovered over Royal Woods but with no worries of rain, Clyde McBride made his way over to the front door of his house, ready to embark on what he wanted to be the best Saturday ever.
A warm jacket couldn't keep his skin from bristling with excited chills as he embraced another mid-afternoon autumn day, stepping out of his house with a basketball tucked under his hand and a plan of action tucked under his brain.
Albeit, the action was rather simple (arrive at the basketball court four blocks from his house), but what awaited him was anything but simple. It was why, even when moving around to get where he wanted to be—needed to be—he still felt restless. Even with the chilly air snaring him up like an ice-cold coffin, his rapid heartbeat kept his body pumped full of warmth that could last forever.
At fourteen years of age, Clyde couldn't say that he had many experiences that made him feel nauseous but elated all at once, but the ones that did always involved two things: a cute girl and squishy, lovey-dovey feelings that made him stay up all night with a longing heart and a dopey smile.
He hadn't felt this way about anyone since Lori, but unlike her, his newest infatuation wasn't a mystery.
She could hold him in awe with her boundless strength.
She had a penchant for inspiration at his lowest points.
Her energy could light up the world on her worst day, let alone his brightest smiles.
Other than the crunching of fallen leaves underfoot, Clyde's coaching thoughts were the only things he could focus on. He'd been feeling this way for almost a year, and after all this time, she had only wanted for them to get closer—she wouldn't keep inviting him to shoot hoops with her if she didn't.
Wasn't that a good enough sign to push forward and...a-and...
Clyde gulped and shook his head, his throat going dry. There was self-doubt creeping up on him again. He thought he'd gotten the last of it rid of after his dads gave him a pep talk this morning. His arm around the basketball grew tighter, but he didn't know why. Perhaps out of comfort or to give him a reminder of where he was going and what he knew he had to do.
Either way, one thing remained clear; he was going to confess his feelings to Lynn Loud Jr., one way or another.
Clyde arrived at a scene he just about expected he'd come to—Lynn gracefully soaring through the air, basketball in one hand, before slamming it through the hoops with a night dunk. She caught herself on the rim by grabbing it and took time to swing back and forth while hollering a victory cry.
And of course she had to be wearing her sports jacket, the same one that she used to protect them both from the rain when a surprise downpour forced them to make a break for home. He felt his skin tingle as he remembered the memory of running down the wet sidewalks, his body pressed to hers and her warmth soaking into him as she protected him.
Clyde's cheeks stared to cramp and it suddenly dawned on him that he had been in a trance, staring from afar as his face strained from his goofy grin. She had caught him with that expression on more than one occasion, and he wasn't always the best at steering her from the real answer. Struggling to come up with an excuse on the spot, he once blamed it on a bad case of gas coming on. She unwittingly alleviated him from embarrassment by laughing as if he had been joking.
He sighed longingly. Lynn knew how to put him at ease, even when she didn't mean to. How could he not fall for that? How could he not take the brave steps forward towards what he hoped would be the best day of his life?
And so he did, looking on as his legs slowly get stiff and heavy like lead and his hands started to clam up and soak in nervous sweat. He was halfway on the court when Lynn dropped down, landing on her feet without her knees buckling in the slightest. She looked up, and the smile she flashed his way was infectious—enough to get into drop his basketball and wave at her.
"Hey, McB!" she cried, waving back. "Get over here, would ya?!"
And just that, she had kickstarted electricity in his legs, causing them to pace towards her quicker—anything to get close to her light. He made it to her...
...just in time for her to nearly sweep him off his feet with a surprise hip check that sent him wailing and reeling. He stumbled on one foot as he pivoted on his heel, his arms flailing about. It was only by the grace of Lynn and her gripping his hand with hers that he didn't fall to the ground.
He was pulled back to a vertical base and before he knew it, the cheeky grin of his crush was beaming at him. Her warm fingers slipped away from his palm, and he already missed the feeling.
"W-what was that for?" he managed to stutter, his cheeks taking on fainted pink.
"That," she said, "was for keeping me waiting. I don't wanna dunk on nothing as much as I wanna do it on your sorry butt."
He laughed, accustomed to her brand of banter and light-hearted barbs. Knowing the Louds as much as he did, that was just their way of expressing their fondness with the ones they were close to.
And as far as he was concerned, that was yet another reason why he could see himself coming out ahead—she was letting him draw near, and every subtle step he took to get closer (inviting her to his house for study sessions, attending her games, sitting by her side at lunch) were rarely rebuffed and never for personal distaste in his company.
"Now come on," she said as she turned and made her way to the hoop again. "I wanna see if you've gotten better on the rebound."
He knew what that meant—he'd have to catch the ball after Lynn ricocheted it off the backboard and then successful score a shot once he caught it. He also knew that once she was in the zone, the list of things that could break her focus and get her to give her attention to anything else was very selective.
He felt honored that his health and safety made it, but he wasn't sure about love confessions.
A nervous pang spread through his veins, and his stomach knotted up. Now he was nervous, knowing that if he wanted to act, he had to do it now.
"Wait, Lynn."
They were two simple words, but they made him feel like he had skydived off a plane—no return from the free-fall he was in. She looked back, curiosity etched on her face. She could easily pick up his somberness and respected it by not carelessly smiling as if there wasn't unspoken tension in the air.
"What's up, Clyde?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "Something wrong?"
He shook his head, but his jittery hands wouldn't after he stopped. "No."
He swallowed around a hard lump in his throat and his heart was fit to burst at any second. He watched her watch him expectantly, and he could feel the pressure of a ticking time bomb hurrying him to speed along before he...bored her by keeping her waiting.
"No, in fact..." His cheeks blazed anew, the next words pouring out like water from a cracked dam. "...everything couldn't be more right."
Lynn surprised him with how intrigued she seemed to look with that. He had her hooked—now, with his confidence beginning to build up again, he had to surge ahead.
"I like being here, being with you." He motioned around the court with his hands, but her tender eyes never left his. "I always have. It doesn't matter what we're doing. As long as I'm with you, I feel like there's nothing in the world that can weigh me down."
Clyde didn't know what to think of Lynn now—her expression seemed mixed between a little weirded out from his sudden outburst of sentimentality or flattered that he felt this way about her. He couldn't read between the lines well enough about the bluntest of details and rarest of sights, her flattered smile because of his words, breathed in assurance that this was going well so far.
"Wow...uh...t-thanks, Clyde," she said, one foot shuffling behind the other as she clasped her hands behind her back. "That...um...I just...I-I don't know what to say."
"But I do," Clyde said, daring to take a few steps forward until nothing but a shoe's length kept them apart. "Lynn, I know that this is gonna sound crazy, but..."
A weak tendril of apprehension sank its teeth into him, but he fought through the sting of its venom by taking a deep, calming breath.
"Lynn, I like you. Like, really, really like you. As more than a friend."
When one weight (the confession) flew off his shoulders, another (her reaction) was strapped on his back and weighed him down twice as hard. His heart was a hummingbird, fluttering a a high pace and his limbs were locked in place. His lungs burned from the build-up of bated breath, but he couldn't expel. His entire world was filled with Lynn, the deep pools of her brown eyes shifting suddenly getting murkier...
Her smile falling into a trembling frown...
Her arms drooping at her sides...
"Clyde, I..."
His heart slowly sinking like a stone in quicksand...
His gut burning hot from a sudden rush of dread...
His eyes burning from unshed tears...
"...I...I-I'm sorry, but..."
His heart put on the brakes, slowing to crawl as a white-hot arrow shot through and fractured it, the pieces shattering like glass and the blow of the break tinkling in his ears as his hopes, his dreams, his love...
...all of it fell to the ground and he looked on as they helplessly swept away through the wind. Her radiance was gone, and it was if he was caught in a snowstorm with nothing but thin clothes on. He watched her pained look, as if she was pleading with him not to have his world turned upside down by the gut punch she was about to bring.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a great guy, but..." She drew in a deep breath before she finished. "...I don't feel the same way about you."
The strength of his legs shriveled up and he fell to his knees, his head bowed—tears were likely to come, and the last shred of his waning dignity wanted any part of him to not look like a pathetic mess in front of the girl he...still liked.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice clearly choked up. "I shouldn't have said anything. It was stupid."
He meant it to. He had to make Lynn feel awkward when she just wanted to be friends. It was his stupid fault for thinking that he could spend less than a year truly in her world and come out ahead. It was his arrogance that had him interpret her smile as something personal, something that could be meant just for him when she had other things in life to be happy about.
Including guys who clearly fit her mold better than he could.
"What?! No! No, of course not!" Lynn cried, and before he knew it, she was on her knees too, her hands on his shoulders.
He could barely register the feeling of her pressed into him. What was once a breath of coziness through his body laid dead and helpless, make like her obvious ploy to get him to feel better despite everything.
"It's just...I mean...you're not exactly what I'm looking for, you know? N-not that that makes you bad or...it's like...um...oh, geez..." Her pause in her rambling couldn't salve the wounds every word her hurt tone spewed out. "Like, let's say I'm looking for a 9 or 10, right? Well...you're, like, a...a five-and-a-half."
That did it—his face burned from the humiliation and his eyes were scalded with tears. They began to unceremoniously slip free against his wishes, plopping against the cold, hard pavement. He had an objective mark against him and he didn't even come close to meeting what she wanted.
All his courage...all of the encouragement...all of them were a fool's fraud from the start, and his poor parents had to get dragged into his stew of utter failure.
"A really, really, reaaaaaally strong five-and-a-half, but still not enough to-"
He surprised her when he tore off, dashing off and not bothering to look back.
"Clyde!" he heard her call, but if she was trying to chase him down, he wasn't hearing out for her.
He could only embrace the throes of his self-pity as he ran home, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Suddenly, the gray skies above were very fitting—he couldn't feel more at home.