|A Tale of Teenage 'Love'
Author: ktmorelikeshutup PM
It's quite the unusual feeling, when I saw him. The Boy. With one grand swoop, my heart is in my stomach. A grin sneaks onto my face without my permission. A wave of dizziness flows through me. I can't feel my feet for a second and my legs get all wobbly. Even when I find myself mostly calmed down again I can feel my hands shaking. It's almost embarrassing.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance - Chapters: 7 - Words: 10,412 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 03-08-13 - Published: 10-03-12 - id: 3062920
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It's quite the unusual feeling, when I saw him. The Boy. With one grand swoop, my heart is in my stomach. A grin sneaks onto my face without my permission. A wave of dizziness flows through me. I can't feel my feet for a second and my legs get all wobbly. Even when I find myself mostly calmed down again I can feel my hands shaking. It's almost embarrassing.
Now here I am, an irrelevant girl who is probably hated by most people, with a far too big crush on a just as irrelevant boy who I barely know. It's every cliché story in the book, except with mine I probably won't get the guy.
I find it hard to describe how I feel when I see him. Well, I just did, in the beginning. But what is it called when you take all those feelings and they all happen at once? Some call it love.
I wonder what I'm doing. I'm just about 15, freshman in high school, claiming love for some boy I've known for three years. I don't know what love is. I know that Kurt and Blaine love each other when I watch Glee on Thursdays. I know that Ron and Hermione love each other, no matter what the Harry/Hermione lovers say. I know I love my mom, my brother, my best friend. I know what love is supposed to be, but I don't know what it is.
He's cute too. Not necessarily in a generally cute way, but still cute somehow. He's tall, naturally tan, blonde hair that he puts too much gel in, such pretty blue eyes, blonde eyebrows that almost disappear in his skin tone. His hands are huge. His butt is one of the nicest butts I've ever seen.
It feels like I've known him forever, like I know everything about him. But I know I don't. I can barely even write a story about us because I can't get his personality down for the life of me.
When we met, well not really when we met, when I first saw him, I didn't like him. Well, technically I didn't mind him at first, and grew to dislike him.
I'd just gotten out of elementary school, because our district is weird and we get out of elementary in 6th grade and spend two years in middle school. We lived in a relatively small town, so once we got out of elementary a couple of other nearby small towns come to school with us. I was terrified. I was still evolving into myself and I didn't know who I was. I had just figured out who I was to my elementary class, now there was a whole new group of people to impress. Not to mention new teachers and new learning environments. I had just spent three years in the same school, now I was in a building I had never even seen before.
My schedule, which I can still remember, was: language arts, math, social studies, Spanish/technology, chorus, lunch, gym, science. He was in my Spanish and gym classes. I didn't even notice him much in 7th grade until at least the second semester. I had actually had a crush on the guy who sat right in front of him in Spanish.
He was a disaster, your classic douche. In Spanish, the teacher was really eccentric, always loud and jumping around. He had us all pick Spanish names that we would be called by for the rest of the year. He gave us a paper and told us to have one by tomorrow. I forgot to pick a name, so when he called me to "introduce myself" I panicked. I looked down the list of names and picked one at random. Figuring it would get me some laughs, I picked Olga. Worst decision of my life.
Classic Douche decided that little insecure me needed to be brought down a little more. He began flirting with me, as some sort of joke. He would call me Olga out of class, doing the same for the rest of our class. He would talk to me and I liked the attention. Guys didn't just talk to me, most people didn't just talk to me. Classic Douche probably ruined my hopes that people could be good.
I have just a few memories of the Boy in my Spanish class, before the second semester when Spanish switched to technology. I remember how Classic Douche got everyone involved in the little Olga joke. In gym we were playing this game, and the Boy wanted me to pass him the ball. He shouted Olga and I always made the mistake of answering to it, half liking the attention it brought me half hating it.
I also remember how little insecure me would panic under pressure. I sat in the back, so when the Spanish teacher asked me a question, everyone turned to look at me. It always freaked me out, having everyone looking expectantly. Instead of feeling bad for me when I told them to not look at me, the guy in front of me thought it would be funny to stare at me all the time. Just a wide-eyed stare. It was creepy, and little insecure me really hated it. The Boy joined in on that too.
These two events probably explain why I began to hate him at first.
I do remember this one thing, it was funny at the time and it's funnier now that I don't hate him. I mentioned before that the Boy sat right behind Classic Douche in Spanish. One day the teacher wanted to check our notebooks and have us simultaneously perform our dialogue in front of the class. So he would call up you and your partner, you'd hand over your notebook, and you'd go to the front and do your dialogue. The teacher called up the Boy and his partner and the Boy gave him his notebook and walked to the front of the class. The teacher paused, holding up the notebook and reading aloud "_ is awesome" (The _ is where you insert the Boy's name, I'm just trying to avoid names so if anyone finds this it won't be too creepy.). The Boy stopped and said "What?" and the teacher read it out again. Classic Douche laughed and raised his hand, saying he wrote it. (Writing this now it's not as funny as it really is...)
Then we were finally in technology. I couldn't wait for technology. For three years I had endured nothing but typing in all my tech classes, I wanted something new. I was fast on a computer, I had already known almost everything the teacher taught us.
Tech opened my eyes to the douche that Classic Douche truly was. When I chose my seat in tech, he sat a few seats away from me and invited his friends to sit next to me. "I'm not sitting next to Olga." Ouch, right in the self esteem. He moved and a girl who went to elementary with me invited me to sit next to her. Classic Douche sat right behind us.
It was lunch when everything happened, my best friend "accidentally" told Classic Douche I had a crush on him. He told everyone and teased me mercilessly. Asking for hugs and making hearts at me. Soon he got bored and I came to my senses. Then suddenly I realized just how shitty a person he was.
Classic Douche talked to the girl next to me from his seat behind us all the time, and she put up with him. Meanwhile I sat there, annoyed, jealous at some points. Though I realized I hated Classic Douche, I still missed the attention. Even the staring people stopped and the Olga thing almost stopped. Classic Douche still liked to get his kicks in every once in a while.
In tech I took a little more notice to the Boy. Mainly because tech was supposed to be my class, like the class I would be better at everyone in. He almost always finished his assignments just before me. He sat in the row in front of me, and I glared daggers into his head while he printed out his work. I made it a mission to always finish before him, doing it a total of three times.
Then the school year was over. I had a whole summer to look forward to before I had to deal with anyone in the school again.
8th grade may have been the worst for me. I went through a lot. I was, I don't want to say depressed, I was sad. I don't know what it was, but I was sad. My best friend, who had been my best friend since 4th grade, was drifting away from me. I felt lonely and I just felt sad. I begged my mom to let me stay home most days and I almost started cutting myself. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that, I knew my condition wasn't permanent, so I didn't want my attempt at "cures" to be. But I got through it all. When I did, it was like I grew a whole new person around me. Like, I risk sounding stupid here, 8th grade was my cocoon that grew around little insecure me and made me into the tough, cynical, somewhat confident butterfly I am today.
My schedule was: math, language arts, technology/French, chorus, science, lunch, gym, social studies. This was the year I started really liking the Boy. He was in my gym again and my social studies class.
We'd started school on a Wednesday, I'm pretty sure. The teacher said, "Pick a seat to sit in, on Thursday you can sit somewhere else, and on Friday you can sit somewhere else. On Friday the seat you're in will be the seat you sit in for the rest of the year."
I wanted to sit in the back corner, but both those spots were taken. I did the next best thing and sat in front of the girl in the back corner. The Boy walked in and took a second before sitting in front of me, his friend was across from him. On Thursday, he sat somewhere else, I stayed in my spot. On Friday, he sat in front of me again. Looking back now, it's nice to know he chose to sit in front of me.
The Boy and I didn't talk much, or I don't remember much through my depressing fog surrounding my 8th grade memories. I remember once the teacher had a group project where we had to design an island or something and come up with a name and a government for it. He put me in a group with the Boy, his friend across from him, and the girl across from me and behind his friend. When we went to present the project we had to stand in the front of the classroom while we showed a PowerPoint explaining our island. We stood in order from who would speak first and who would speak last. I got the second to last spot, the Boy standing next to me in the second spot. I'd never been so close to him and I looked up to realize he was fucking tall. I come up to his shoulder, I think.
Towards the end of 8th grade, I started feeling better, breaking out of my cocoon if you will. I was still wary of liking guys, after Classic Douche ruined me. I had a crush on the Boy, but refused to admit it. I'd had his schedule memorized (language arts, math, science, technology/French, lunch, music, gym, social studies), I would remember everything he'd done or said to me in social studies and recounted it to my best friend, who'd stopped being distant. She claimed he had a crush on me and claimed I had a crush on him.
Most of the things I remember about him in 8th grade were small. He had gym right before social studies, so he'd often just wear his gym shirt to class. When he didn't wear his gym shirt, his wardrobe was so generally small. He mostly wore dark grey shirts and I don't think I ever saw him in anything other than basketball shorts. One day, he wore this bright pastel yellow shirt. It was so fucking weird. I can't explain it. I had been in my depression then, and something about the shirt just made my whole day brighter. Even though I saw him in it at the end of the day.
One of my favorite memories of him, the one that probably made me get a crush on him. I didn't do my homework much. Whether it be general laziness or just the depression. One day in social studies I hadn't handed in this essay that was due two days ago. I told the teacher, who asked for late assignments in front of everyone in an attempt to embarrass us into doing our work. The Boy turned around to me and asked, "Why don't you do your homework?" This was the first time he'd ever said anything serious to me. Most of the time he just made faces at me or pushed his desk back so my desk would be pushed back and so on. It was also one of the first times any one of my classmates besides my best friend said anything serious to me. Usually when someone did, I just mumbled a vague answer that wasn't really an answer. So I just shrugged to him. But then he didn't turn back, he just kept looking at me. Not even like how he used to stare at me, just looking like he expected me to expand on the topic. "I just want to know." "I just don't...do anything...like ever..." "Don't you care about your grades?" He made me feel so guilty that day, I went home and did the essay that I had been planning to just put off until the teacher threatened detention or something. Then I did my homework for the rest of the week, before I stopped again.
No other person had ever made me do that. My mom yelled at me for not doing my homework, my brother said he almost failed because he didn't do his homework, my best friend lectured me. I don't know why he made me do it, but he did.
Another one of my favorites. The teacher had gotten a cart full of school laptops so we could work on a project. I was done, so I put my computer back. The Boy was done, and was just doing a bunch of random stuff on his computer. I was looking over his shoulder. At some point he opened up a PowerPoint and put a picture of a cow on a slide then showed he friend, which was weird. He went to the Apple website and got the most expensive computer, then went to the checkout and selected all the extra things you could add. It came out to about $9000. I whispered "holy shit" behind him and he turned around and laughed.
Then he kept fucking around on the Apple website and I just silently looked over his shoulder. He opened a new tab and wrote in the address bar: "stop looking over my shoulder"
"No." I whispered to him.
"how to get someone to stop looking over your shoulder" then he pressed enter and Google searched (gotta love Chrome)
I rolled my eyes and didn't say anything, but kept looking. He exited the tab and typed: "i know your still doing it"
"You used the wrong you're."
stop looking over my sholder
don't even say anything about sholder"
I laughed and stopped looking over his shoulder, getting a book out to read instead.
The school trip was coming up. We'd be going to this place called Tall Pines in South Jersey. It's a summer camp, the 7th graders go on Friday and the 8th graders go on Monday. There are two pools there and a bunch of other stuff to do. Basically the whole point of it is that you get to ogle at your hot classmates in bathing suits without being too noticeable.
I'm wearing this bikini with shorts instead of a bottom, because my ass is too big to wear normal bottoms. I'm with my best friend who is wearing a shirt and shorts because she's insecure about her big boobs and small butt. A few weeks ago, Best Friend had gone on a special field trip for the smart students. She told me about how she saw the Boy climbing a rock wall and he had a nice butt. I have an obsession with butts, and had never seen the Boy's before, his shirts always cover it.
Best Friend goes to play this dodgeball like game that's in a gazebo type thing. When she's playing, I see the Boy in the distance. He's taken off his shirt and he looks pretty nice. I'm a shallow person, I have a specific type and that's what I like. I'm not into big muscle-y guys, but I can appreciate a good body. The Boy was just my type. Nicely toned, not too much. He walks over to the gazebo thing, and I see his butt.
Dear God, I said I wouldn't write a whole paragraph dedicated to his butt. Butts are a confusing thing. You can have a big butt, but that doesn't mean it's nice. You can have a small butt, but that doesn't mean it's bad. The Boy's butt was a nice medium size, and had the most delicious shape to it. I can't. I need to stop.
So Best Friend plays a few rounds of the game, the Boy joins in on a few and I enjoy watching him be cute and try to win, which he never does. At one point Best Friend gets out and she's next to me. We're talking to this guy we've known since elementary. He's got the most gorgeous head of curls. The Boy gets out and he comes up to talk to Curls. Best Friend and I silently freak out because the Boy is shirtless and he's right behind me. Somehow someone talks about Curls' hair and I say, "I've always wanted to touch your hair." The Boy says, "Well you'll never get to." Then walks away to join the new game starting. Curls lets me touch his hair, it was amazing. Best Friend says that what the Boy said was definitely flirting. I half stalk the Boy for the rest of the day.
After much denial, I finally gave into it, admitting that I liked him. By the time I'd done so, the school year was just about over. Leaving me with a whirlwind of feelings to deal with over the summer.
My problem with liking guys has always been that I like a guy because he's cute. Then I make up a big character for them in my head and pretend that that's who they are. Then I realize who they are, and it's totally not what I wanted.
When I got to the 9th grade orientation, and I saw the Boy, he was exactly how I remembered him. When I overheard him talking to his friend and he hadn't changed a bit, I couldn't contain my joy. I was so glad that I'd finally liked a guy who wasn't different from the one in my head.
Then the first day of school came and I barely found my way to my classes. My schedule is math, Spanish, English, history, art, lunch, gym, programming, science. I always watched the door, waiting for him to come in. I scanned the room, looking for his face. He wasn't in any of my classes. Not even lunch or gym.
I didn't see him for close to two weeks. I was sad, I missed him. Even though I'd gone three months without seeing him, it seems absence does make the heart grow fonder.
I was over my dad's house (divorced parents, who doesn't have them these days?) and Best Friend calls. She's over the Boy's house. She's friends with his twin sister. Sister wants me to come over.
Let's explain my history with Sister. Sister was the reason Best Friend was so distant in 8th grade. Best Friend became friends with Sister and Sister made her realize that I had been making her unpopular.
Now I'm unpopular for a few reasons. One would be because apparently I'm "weird". I don't really know when I became "weird" but personally I think that if the "popular" kids in school got to know me, they would love me. Another reason is because after I got over my depression thing, I made it very clear that I hated everyone in school. I told Classic Douche to "fuck off" when he talked to me, I even announced it in class one day. (LA teacher says: Would you rather be smart and lonely, or stupid and have friends? I'm the only one in class who chooses the first option. Douche next to me points me out when I half raise my hand for that option. I explain: "Just because you don't have friends, doesn't mean you're lonely. I don't have friends and I'm perfectly fine, because I hate everyone." Class laughs. I say, "I'm not joking.")
So I was bringing Best Friend down, something I already knew. I was fully prepared for Best Friend to ditch me and go hang with Sister, but Best Friend is a hopelessly good person and tries to make me friends with Sister. She has a sleepover/birthday party at her house and invites me and Sister and a few other girls. Sister and I get along. My only problem with Sister is that she cuts herself and that really bothers me, but it was none of my business so I couldn't lecture her. So Sister and I really get along, then the next day in school, she barely acknowledges me. So therefore Sister becomes nothing but the Boy's sister in my eyes.
I don't know why Sister apparently wanted me to come over, but I did. Because one: Best Friend wants me to and I'm bored, and two: I haven't seen the Boy since the second day of school, and I now have the chance to go over his house.
There's a bonfire, we're outside. It's Best Friend, Sister, the Boy, the Boy's friend, and me. There's a blanket on the ground and four of us sit on it, while the Boy stands a few feet away. There's a perfectly open spot between me and Sister.
"Why are you standing?"
"Why aren't you?"
"It's pissing me off."
The Boy crouches down in his spot. I smirk to myself. He stands up again a few minutes later.
He gets marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers to make smores. He starts talking about how graham crackers never taste good. He starts to roast his marshmallow and I say, "I hate when people just burn their marshmallow and then eat it." Because the majority of people I've had bonfires with have done that and ew. He agrees with me and I smirk to myself again.
At some point the Boy is just walking around the fire and he decides to spew out a string of curse words for no reason. His friend says, "Just because you're cursing doesn't mean you're badass." Sister says, "He doesn't do badass." I say, "Yeah, he does good ass."
Best Friend, Sister (who we had told about our love for his ass), and I laugh. He doesn't get it, we laugh more.
At one point, all 5 of us ended up in the Boy's room. He had a nicer TV than the one in the living room and a computer that got my heart racing. His walls were white and his bed was navy and unmade. He had shit all over the floor including a Harry Potter book that was probably Sister's, and a Spongebob blanket. Best Friend and I watch the part of Kill Bill Volume 2 where she's buried alive but get pushed out of the room before we can even see if she escapes. We all end up outside again.
The Boy's friend eventually goes home and the Boy goes back to his room. I don't see him again until the next morning just before I leave. He either sleeps late or didn't want to be in the room with us.
When I go downstairs for breakfast, I'm half dead. Best Friend and I went to bed at 3 AM while Sister went to bed at 10 PM and woke us up at 8 AM. The Boy's dad comes in and he looks so much like the Boy, I almost say out loud, "What happened to him?" It's so creepy, I can't explain it.
I go home and I'm tweeting to my internet friends about the Boy and how his Sister is pretty stupid. Then I go to school and I don't see the Boy and I hope and pray that we get invited over again.
We do. I go over and Sister has a friend over. The Boy is not home. It's night and a bunch of older guys come in. Three of them were seniors and the rest had to be juniors. I was annoyed all night, because the Boy wasn't home and I hated everyone there and I just don't like generally being around too many people at a time. I'm texting one of my internet friends all night and Best Friend and I end up in Sister's room. The boys go home and Sister and her friend tell us to go downstairs. They play the piano and sing a bit. Sister says the Boy is out bowling.
That makes me laugh for some reason. While Sister is out socializing with all her older friends, he's just bowling. They're so different, it's surprising that they're related let alone twins. Sister tells her mom that I like the Boy, really unnecessary if I may say so. The Boy comes home. There are 6 people in the room and 5 of them know I like him and he is not one of them. Best Friend said she would tell him, so I can see his reaction and decide whether or not to make a move, but she hasn't done so.
He plays with his dog a bit, which makes me really emotional. I don't really get to see the Boy act like a real human being a lot. Most of the time I saw him, he was working in class or in gym. He always is kind of emotionless (For instance: Sister's friend tells us a story about how the Boy is in her English class. She sees him, goes up to him and says "Wow look we're in the same class!" he answers with a "yeah" and doesn't even bother to smile politely.), which is probably why I can't write his personality right. When he was playing with his dog, I couldn't help but like him more, knowing he's capable of human emotion. That's always been one of the things that have kept me from wanting to like him. What if he couldn't even like me back?
He goes upstairs and that's it. I see him again in the morning where he leaves the kitchen the second I enter.
I get home, I tweet about how Sister is stupid and the Boy should marry me/date me/have sex with me/etc.
Next day at school, Sister tells Best Friend she found my twitter. Sister thought I was coming to her house for her, and is mad that I was only coming for the Boy. If Sister wanted to be my friend, perhaps she should have tried that when she had the chance the first time. I write Sister a letter because that's how I get my feelings out, by writing. Sister is "offended" by it at first. Then Sister says "let's be friends" I don't want to put up with Sister's bullshit, but I want to see the Boy. I've never had to deal with so much teenage cliché in my whole life.
Now we're here. I hadn't seen the boy for a week, but I saw him yesterday in the hall. I got that feeling, the one I described in the beginning.
I always thought, "Whatever, so I like a guy, big deal. I'll get over him eventually." But now I keep reliving that feeling, and I know I'm totally screwed.