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ayumidah"You're going to go deaf if you keep playing that so loudly," the voice of my best friend is the first thing I hear once I get past the shock of having earphones pulled from my ears and taking the music away from me abruptly. By the look on her face, she's being playful, but still. It takes a minute for me to regroup, realize that she's waiting for an answer.
Even so, when I speak, my voice sounds weak and shaky to my ears. "What are you doing, Christa?" I hold my hands out for my earphones and she obligingly hands them over, grinning sheepishly.
"Sorry, Evan, didn't mean to scare you. It just seemed like you were lost in your own world, and you didn't hear me calling for you, so I thought that'd attract your attention." She falls into step next to me and we walk towards school quietly together, my fingers fumbling with the tangled cords. "Did I do that?" she asks, noticing after a few moments. Reaching out, her soft, nimble fingers soon tug the cords from me once more, this time quickly untangling them, the knots falling easily to her gentle touch like I have a time or two as well.
My hands are still held out numbly when she returns them to me for the second time in five minutes and my fingers thoughtlessly curl around hers, both of us freezing on the side of the street as we look at each other, her lips parting when I don't let go, allowing myself a brief moment of holding her, feeling her warmth against my palms. She looks like she's about to say something when...
"Christa!" The moment breaks as she pulls away from me, leaving my fingers gripping nothing but limp earphone cords, and turns sharply towards the school looming in the distance.
"Lane!" she calls back, gripping her backpack straps as she runs down the street towards... him.
Lane Parker. Christa's boyfriend. The guy who every girl had the hots for before most of us hit high school; many find him handsome... He's a football player, and just enough of a bad boy that it causes all of the girls to giggle and whisper, but not enough to make the parents of their precious daughters worry too much when he would be inclined to take them out for a movie and maybe dinner. The kind of guy that makes guys like me pale in comparison, and have absolutely no chance.
I sigh and adjust my own backpack before walking stoically past them-- at least I hope it's stoic enough and, when she doesn't even bother to glance over at me from where she's standing on her tiptoes, kissing her boyfriend hello, I'm pretty sure I've succeeded well enough at hiding how low this makes me feel. Thankfully, Christa is really the only one who knows me well enough to notice so, when I fake a smile for the teachers and other students who actually bother to greet me, no one asks if something's wrong, or if I need anything.
There is, and I do, but there's absolutely nothing that can be done for it now. I lost my chance years ago, and I have to live with that knowledge every minute of every day.
Even so, when I speak, my voice sounds weak and shaky to my ears. "What are you doing, Christa?" I hold my hands out for my earphones and she obligingly hands them over, grinning sheepishly.
"Sorry, Evan, didn't mean to scare you. It just seemed like you were lost in your own world, and you didn't hear me calling for you, so I thought that'd attract your attention." She falls into step next to me and we walk towards school quietly together, my fingers fumbling with the tangled cords. "Did I do that?" she asks, noticing after a few moments. Reaching out, her soft, nimble fingers soon tug the cords from me once more, this time quickly untangling them, the knots falling easily to her gentle touch like I have a time or two as well.
My hands are still held out numbly when she returns them to me for the second time in five minutes and my fingers thoughtlessly curl around hers, both of us freezing on the side of the street as we look at each other, her lips parting when I don't let go, allowing myself a brief moment of holding her, feeling her warmth against my palms. She looks like she's about to say something when...
"Christa!" The moment breaks as she pulls away from me, leaving my fingers gripping nothing but limp earphone cords, and turns sharply towards the school looming in the distance.
"Lane!" she calls back, gripping her backpack straps as she runs down the street towards... him.
Lane Parker. Christa's boyfriend. The guy who every girl had the hots for before most of us hit high school; many find him handsome... He's a football player, and just enough of a bad boy that it causes all of the girls to giggle and whisper, but not enough to make the parents of their precious daughters worry too much when he would be inclined to take them out for a movie and maybe dinner. The kind of guy that makes guys like me pale in comparison, and have absolutely no chance.
I sigh and adjust my own backpack before walking stoically past them-- at least I hope it's stoic enough and, when she doesn't even bother to glance over at me from where she's standing on her tiptoes, kissing her boyfriend hello, I'm pretty sure I've succeeded well enough at hiding how low this makes me feel. Thankfully, Christa is really the only one who knows me well enough to notice so, when I fake a smile for the teachers and other students who actually bother to greet me, no one asks if something's wrong, or if I need anything.
There is, and I do, but there's absolutely nothing that can be done for it now. I lost my chance years ago, and I have to live with that knowledge every minute of every day.
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2015-04-16 02:54 (UTC)no subject
2015-04-16 05:15 (UTC)