Disorder

Author’s Note – This is a rewrite of a story I started posting a while ago… It’s a little long, but too short to be broken into chapters. I hope you enjoy it.

“So, what do you think of the lab we’re doing in Physics?” Janet asked at lunch, giving me the ‘wink, wink, nudge, nudge’ look. I had no idea what she was suggesting.

“It’s a lab,” I said, unwrapping my sandwich and then opening my water bottle. I took a sip of the water and capped the bottle, setting it to the left of my sandwich. Then I made sure the meat and cheese in my sandwich didn’t peek out over the edge before I picked it up and taking a bite.

“Yeah, and you’ve got Lionel as your lab partner,” she said, leaning in a bit. I put my sandwich down on the plastic bag and finished chewing. The plastic bag was wrinkled a bit on the edge so I smoothed it out. I checked the cheese in my sandwich again, making sure the edges lined up with the bread.

“He knows what he’s doing,” I told her, wondering what she was getting at. Janet’s sister, Lauren, joined us with her friend Ashley, both of them chattering, as always, about how much they hate their math teacher. I liked knowing what to expect from my friends.

“And he’s cute, too,” Janet said finally. I turned to look at her. Sometimes I found it hard talking to her when I had to look at her face, because she had one of those haircuts where her bangs are diagonal instead of straight.

“You have a boyfriend,” I reminded her, and said boyfriend, Tim, approached the table with a tray of pizza, sitting next to his girlfriend. Tim was kind of hard to look at when I talked to him, too, because his nose was bent a little, and his ears didn’t line up exactly, and I always found myself tilting my head a little bit so that his features lined up the right way.

“I’m not saying that I like him,” she said, “don’t you like him?” she asked.

“Who does Emmalyn like?” Lauren asked, getting into this conversation. Ashley had gone up to the lunch line to buy her lunch.

“Nobody,” I said, looking over at Janet to make sure she understood me, “he’s a nice guy but I don’t like him that way,” I told her. She sighed.

“I hate to be a nag, but Jason broke up with you more than a year ago,” she said, “I would have thought you’d find someone by now.”

“I don’t need a boyfriend,” I told her. Having a boyfriend would mess up the whole schedule of my life, and he’d just be one more person thinking that I’m strange.

“I don't need a boyfriend either,” Greg said, approaching the table and sliding into the seat next to me. He picked up my water bottle and started peeling at the label. I snatched it from his hands and put it back in its place. He didn’t get the hint and picked it back up. He twirled the bottle around on the table. I tried to take it from him again, but he held it out of my reach, laughing like it was some big joke. His brown hair flopped in front of his eye and I wished he was just brush it back into place. He would look so much nicer if he just cleaned up a bit. I had to admit the one nice thing about Greg was his smell. He always smelled like soap, like he just finished washing his hands, and it almost made me forget how much I can't stand him.

“Give it back,” I said, trying to be calm. Greg just grinned and passed the bottle to Ashley, who had just sat back down at the table. She took the water bottle, looked at it, and gave it back to Greg.

“Give it back,” I repeated. Greg just shrugged and goes back to peeling the label off.

“Stop it!” I shouted and grabbed the bottle from him. He looked at me, bewildered.

“What did I do?” he asked. I put the water bottle back in its spot and ignored him, concentrating instead on my sandwich. The table was silent for a minute, and I knew that they were wondering where that outburst came from. They didn’t understand; they didn’t realize how frustrating it was when Greg did those things. They thought he was funny. I didn’t.

“So did anyone watch Family Guy last night?” Ashley asked, starting the conversation back up. I stayed quiet and took out my book. I was reading Wuthering Heights for the eighth time that year. It was one of my favorite books, and I always felt so safe when I was reading it, because I knew what was coming.

The next day in Physics, I couldn’t help noticing Lionel, mostly because Janet had me thinking about him now. He was clean cut with short blond hair and blue eyes. His clothes were pressed and neat, and nothing was out of place on him. Janet was right, he was attractive. And I couldn’t help but think that he was flirting with me. His hand kept brushing against mine when he was demonstrating what to do, and when he was checking my calculations, he leaned a little closer than necessary. He didn't smell like soap, though.

“No, you want to change that,” he said, and gently took my pencil from my hand. He erased the answer to one of the questions, but he did it the way I do – he erased all the marks and brushed away the eraser crumbs, instead of leaving a mess. Then he showed me how to do it the right way. The way he kept moving into my personal space bothered me, but I didn't ask him to stop, because I was afraid he would think I was being rude.

Class ended and I walked with Janet to lunch. She was silent for a minute, and I thought she was trying to come up with something to say.

“I think Lionel likes you,” she said, once we sat down. I realized this was a repeat of yesterday’s conversation, but I didn’t mind, because repetitiveness made me feel better.

“And if he does?” I asked. I tried not to seem interested, and instead focused on unwrapping my sandwich, fixing the turkey and cheese so that nothing overlaps the edge of the sandwich. Greg came to sit down at the table, but at least this time he left my water bottle alone.

“I think it’s cute if he does like you,” Janet said.

“Who are you talking about?” he wanted to know. Why do you care? I wanted to know, but I didn't say this. There are a lot of things that I didn't say.

“Lionel, he’s Emmalyn’s lab partner,” Janet explained. Greg nodded with a weird look on his face. Then he got up and went to buy lunch without saying anything else.

“Do you like him?” Janet wanted to know.

“No, Greg is annoying,” I replied, wondering why she would even ask me a question like that. She laughed.

“Not Greg, Lionel. Do you like Lionel?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, and hoped she would leave the topic alone. She did, and the rest of the lunch period was mostly predictable, except for Greg, who was unusually silent. I decided that I didn't mind this, because it seemed to be a positive change from his normal disruptive attitude, and I ignored the small, nagging feeling in the back of my head that wanted him to go back to acting the way he always did.

The Physics lab took us the rest of the week to complete, and I found myself getting used to Lionel. He seemed to be getting used to me, too, because each day he seemed to be paying more attention to me, and I often found him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I was flattered, to be sure, but I was unsure of what to do. Something like this had not happened to me before. With Jason, it was different. He was a good friend of mine for a very long time, and we naturally progressed into a relationship. When he moved out west with his parents, we broke up.

Janet constantly commented, telling me that I should ask Lionel to get together sometime, or "flirt" with him. I had never made a flirtatious gesture in my life, and I didn't intend to start doing so now. I changed none of my behavior, and on Friday, Lionel caught me after class.

"Emmalyn, could I speak with you for a moment?" he asked. Janet flashed me a look, and I let Lionel lead me aside as everyone else left the classroom.

"I was wondering if, perhaps, you might like to come with me to see a movie this weekend," he said, looking down at his folded hands.

"That sounds nice," I said, and he looked up at me, smiling. After he told me when he would pick me up and I told him how to get to my house, I left for lunch. Being a little late for lunch made me a little agitated, especially because Greg was already there in his seat. I sat down between him and Janet.

"What did he say?" Janet asked excitedly. I ignored her for a minute as I set my things out for lunch. Only after I had set up and finished my first bite did I respond.

"He asked me to go to the movies with him tomorrow," I told her, though I wasn't sure if I felt as excited as she did. I agreed that Lionel was nice, but, like Jason, I didn't feel strongly for him. Maybe that was safer than strong passion. After all, Heathcliff and Cathy had been so passionately in love, but they didn't get their happy ending.

"Emmalyn, that's awesome!" Janet exclaimed, "Isn't it awesome, Greg?" she asked. Greg looked at Janet, and then at me.

"I thought you didn't like him," Greg said, looking directly at me. I noticed that today, for some reason his hair was not its usual mess. That was odd.

"I don't know if I do," I replied honestly, "but he likes me, and I think I should give him a chance." I held Greg's gaze, and I felt like we were in some sort of staring contest that I hadn't been told about.

"That sounds to me like you're leading him on," he said. His voice did not tell me how he felt about this; it just sounded like he was stating a fact.

"I never told him that I liked him," I replied, which was the truth, "I just agreed to see a movie with him. I see movies with my friends," I added. This was also true, but I felt like I was evading Greg's question, though it was one he hadn't directly asked me.

"Oh, leave her alone, Greg," Janet said, "so, Emmalyn, when are you going to have your birthday party?" she asked, effectively changing the subject, but this one did not make me feel any more comfortable.

I did not like birthday parties. I didn't like any kind of party, really. People came over and messed up your house, ate messy food and never showed up or left on time. A party that was supposed to be from twelve to three, like the one I'd had last year, ended up going from eleven-thirty-ish to around four. I hated birthday parties, but I liked spending time with my friends. Besides, I was going to be eighteen, which was an even number year (and last year was seventeen, which was an odd number, and a prime at that, so maybe that was why things didn't work out) and my last birthday as a high school student. Never mind that my birthday was a month away – I had to plan ahead if I wanted everything to go smoothly.

"I haven't decided yet," I admitted, feeling a little guilty. Of course, I hadn't planned on having a party this year until just now, so I was allowed a little lee way (or so I told myself, but just thinking about the planning that I had to do, and the short amount of time I had to do it was making me panicky).

The date for the birthday party had been set and I had planned out all of the details very specifically. I knew what kind of cake I was going to make, when I would make it, how many paper plates and napkins to get, and how long it would take me to clean up before the party. Yet, with two weeks to go, I was nervous and worried that everything wouldn't go the way I wanted it to. Apparently I was obvious about my worry, because Janet mentioned it at lunchtime.

"You panic too much," she told me matter-of-factly, "I thought that having a new boyfriend would loosen you up, but apparently not."

"He's not my boyfriend," I said, blushing. This was true, but I had the feeling that Lionel was going to ask me to be his girlfriend soon. I wasn't sure what I would respond to that if the question arose. I was getting along with Lionel sure enough, and I liked the way he did things, but I didn't feel anything for him – not the way that Cathy felt for Heathcliff, not the way that Janet seemed to feel for Tim.

"Is he going to be coming to your birthday party?" Greg asked, his voice much more subdued than I was used to. He sounded ... well, hurt, I suppose, and I wasn't sure why this bothered me. Lately Greg had seemed to be a lot more put together than he usually was. His hair was neatly combed and parted and it looked like his pants had been pressed. It was so different that I wasn't sure if I liked the Greg before or the new, clean, organized Greg.

"I invited him," I replied, "but I don't know if he'll come or not." This was not entirely true, because Lionel had said he was sure he would be coming. However, for some reason I felt like I had to lie to Greg, mostly because of the way he was acting about any mention of Lionel.

"What do you want for your birthday?" Ashley asked, clearly sensing the tension and wanting to change the topic. I shrugged, because there wasn't much that I actually wanted.

"How about a new copy of that book you're always reading? What is it...? Jane Eyre?" Tim asked. Wrong Bronte sister, I thought, but was not given the chance to correct him.

"It's Wuthering Heights," Greg said, and I was sort of surprised that he knew. I mean, it wasn't the sort of thing I'd expected him to notice. I turned to give him a grateful smile, and was caught by the blue of his eyes. My cheeks were heating up and I was suddenly feeling nervous.

"You can't tell her what you're going to buy her," Lauren said, "that ruins the surprise!" I rolled my eyes but didn't say anything. That's one thing that I didn't like about birthday presents - you never knew what you were going to get from someone, and if it was something you didn't like... well you couldn't tell them that. I hated surprises, I hated disorder, and I hated disorganization. With this, I hated the feelings that came to me every time I looked at Greg lately. They weren't what I usually felt, especially not towards him.

Luckily, lunch was over soon, and I was able to go to my next class where I could concentrate on Algebra and its familiar formulas instead of on Greg and Lionel and my birthday party.

"Emmalyn, I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I have to work today," Mom said on the morning of my birthday party. I had expected her to be home that day to help me with baking and cleaning, but now that she was working, what was I going to do?

"I'm sorry," she said, looking guilty, "but they called me in, there's no one else." I sighed, because there was nothing I could do. I was vaguely aware of my mother still talking to me as I mentally went through the list of things I had to do before my friends showed up and adjusted the order I would have to complete them in with my mother gone. She seemed to realize that I was no longer listening to her, and left for work as I frantically worked to clean the house, which wasn't really that messy to begin with, but I didn't want it to look bad for my friends.

I had told them to show up at one, and I was hoping that they would have actually listened to me. By eleven thirty, I had finished cleaning, set up the plates and silverware on the table, as well as the snacks (carrot sticks, which I had sliced myself, making sure they were fairly even and uniform in size, as well as sugar cookies bought from the grocery store, since they were usually smoother than any I could make on my own). The last thing left to do was make the cake.

I had been planning on having my mother make the cake while I cleaned, but since she wasn't here, it had to be the last thing I was doing. It was going to be a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting - the same I had for every birthday since I was seven.

The cake was in the oven and I was taking the frosting out of the fridge in order for it to warm up a little bit, when I heard the doorbell ringing. It was only twelve thirty-six. No one should have been showing up for another twenty-four minutes. I took a deep breath, telling myself that it wouldn't be a very big deal if someone was a little early. Then I went to answer the door before whoever was there rang the doorbell again.

I opened the door to find Greg standing there, and this was little surprise to me. He would be the one to show up early. His hair was neatly combed, as it had been lately. He was wearing a white t-shirt with the Coca-Cola symbol on it and a pair of jeans - clothes I would expect from him, though somewhat underdressed for a birthday party, in my opinion.

"You're early," I said, meanwhile letting him come into the house. I closed the door behind him, and he looked around. He was making me a little ansty, though, because I had wanted to finish the cake before anyone showed up. Apparently this was not going to happen now.

"I, uh, I was hoping to come early so that I could talk to you," Greg said, looking up at me, and his intense gaze made me nervous.

"That's fine, but I have to stay in the kitchen to keep an eye on the cake in the oven," I said. Greg nodded and followed me into the kitchen. He sat down on the barstool and I remained standing, keeping an eye on the oven timer. Watching the seconds count down made me feel better, calmer. The timer went off before Greg had spoken, and I put the cake on the counter to cool.

"Do you really like Lionel?" he asked. It seemed like honesty was important at this time, and I didn't want to lie to Greg - though I hadn't lied to him yet, just omitted certain facts.

"No, I don't, at least, not in the way that you're asking me," I replied. Why could I be honest with Greg about this, yet I couldn't tell Lionel? I'd gone with him to the movies and out to dinner twice, but I didn't have the heart to reject him.

"Then why are you going on dates with him? I get that you're trying to be nice and everything, but it seems like you're doing more than you have to just to be nice to him," Greg said, tracing his hands wood grain of the countertop.

"It's the same reason I went out with Jason. I didn't really like him in any romantic sense, but he was safe enough for me," I said with a shrug, "Janet will leave me alone about 'needing a boyfriend' and I'll have someone who is safe and won't disrupt my life." I shrugged again. It was kind of a stupid response, but it was true.

"Because he's safe?" Greg got up off the stool and stood up, waving his arms around, "that's the stupidest reason I've ever heard!" he exclaimed. Then he startled me by grabbing my shoulders and looking down at me. His eyes were so dark to make the color indistinguishable, and he was gripping my shoulders rather violently.

"What's wrong with passion?" he asked. I couldn't answer him, too afraid of what he would do next. I had never seen him like this and I didn't know what was going through his head. "What's wrong with me?" he asked, his voice softer this time. I still couldn't talk, staring at the individual eyelashes and trying to count them because my heart was beating so fast that I couldn't think straight.

But I couldn't count his eyelashes anymore because he leaned forward and closed his eyes and I closed mine too and then he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back. He took his hands off my shoulders and put them on my hips, where they fit perfectly. And our mouths fit perfectly. My heart was still beating wildly but this passion felt even more right than anything I'd felt when I was around Lionel.

Someone coughed, and we abruptly separated. I blushed to see that Lionel was standing there. He was holding a wrapped present in his hand, and he looked at me.

"I think I knew you didn't really like me," he said, glancing at Greg. He put the gift on the counter. "I just wanted to drop this off and say thanks for humoring me, but you don't have to do that anymore." He gave me a smile that actually seemed genuine. No one said anything, and Lionel just smiled again and left the way he had come in. I didn't know what to say. Everything was still sinking in.

"You haven't frosted the cake yet!" Janet called, walking into the house. She set her present on the counter and came over to hug me.

"Happy birthday!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, I suppose it is," I replied, glancing over at Greg. Chaos wasn't so bad once in a while, not when it came in the form of Greg.

-The-End-