say yes. (dwayne hoover)

chapter one

Coming back home after California felt like coming home after a war. Everything felt different. Dwayne felt as if his entire life changed in an instant. His future had been so clear, so set in stone, and now he was back in square one.

As soon as they got back home, he went to his room and tried to see what had changed. He stared at the notebook and pen sitting on his side table. Bullshit. In a way, he felt like an utter ghost of his own self. He knew he would do anything to reach his dreams, but he didn't have a clue how to do that.

He had talked to Frank about love, about doing what you love. But what the fuck did he know about love? Just a week ago, he said he hated everyone. And still, that feeling hasn't changed yet. Sure, things with his family are better, but he still didn't have any friends.

He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Frank the night he first came over. "Come on, there must be somebody."

Nope. There was no one. At all.

After a few days of being home, things started to feel more normal. As normal as the Hoover house can be. One Saturday, while Dwayne was reading in his room, Frank came in with a tussle.

"Is there a book store near here?" he asked in a rush.

"A bookstore?"

"Yes, Dwayne, a store with books."

"There's one, yeah. Why?"

"A paper of mine has been republished in a Proust collection. Didn't hear about until now. No phones in the ward."

"Do I have to go?"

"Get up, loser."

Frank drove them to the bookstore as Dwayne pointed out directions. The store was big, but it was the only one in the entire town. If Frank didn't find his book there, then he was screwed. Dwayne hadn't been to the shop for a long time. He stockpiled books at the beginning of freshmen year and had no interest in getting more at the moment.

The shop served as a book store and a café. There were tables set up for people to read with their coffees, even though they were never that good because they were made by teenagers working for minimum wage.

When they arrived, Frank scurried in while Dwayne sauntered behind him, keeping his head down in case he ran into anybody he went to school with. Frank went directly up to the counter to wait for the barista/bookkeeper? to help him find the book. Dwayne walked over to the philosophy shelf and flipped through the selections.

"How can I help you, sir?" The girl at the counter turned around and began talking to Frank.

Dwayne turned to look and then...

Holy shit.

He had never seen a more beautiful girl than that. The cashier was talking to Frank adamantly and helping him search through the store's directory. Dwayne was staring at her.

She was wearing a white shirt with red and black swirls on it, a picture of some guy with a hairstyle similar to Dwayne's on the front. Her hair was dark with faded purple dye on the bottom, sitting in a braid on her shoulder. Her eyes were a shade of green he had never seen before and they shined like emeralds when the light of the shop hit them. When she smiled, as she was doing now while talking to Frank, her nose crinkled and her front two teeth barred. Her smile, eyes, cheeks, and body were full and bright. There was something about her that reminded Dwayne of the sun.

He wanted to throw up.

She walked around to the shelves where Dwayne was stuck standing and was trying to help Frank. Dwayne's eyes followed her as she walked and he just hoped that no one noticed.

Seeing her closer now made him even more nauseous. She looked even better right in front of him. She was wearing a short, tight red shirt that matched her shirt and black tights. You could see every curve on her body. Jesus Christ.

Frank followed behind her talking some sort of nonsense that Dwayne couldn't compute, thankfully unaware of Dwayne's predicament.

He didn't know what to do with himself. He had never had something like this happen so intensely. Sure, he's found girls cute, but never with a feeling this.

He felt like a fucking girl. He felt like Olive looking at her poster of Justin Timberlake.

And he needed to the hell out of there.

After a while, far too long for Dwayne, Frank and the girl came back from the back shelves and Frank was holding a hardback with a picture of Proust on it.

"Thank you so much, Ramona. It means the world." Ramona.

"Of course! I'm so glad I could help. How weird is it to buy your own work?" she laughed bubbly, sending a shiver down Dwayne's spine.

"Not weird enough for me to not buy it."

She laughed and lead him over to the counter to check out. They exchanged their salutations and Frank came back to where Dwayne was standing. Dwayne had never felt happier to be invisible.

"What's up with you?" Frank asked while they were driving back home.

Dwayne startled. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't said a word since we left the store. Which wouldn't really be weird for you if you weren't being so squirrely."

"I'm not being squirrely! I-I'm fine!"

Frank looked at him, his flushed face and newfound stutter. He searched in the back of his mind for what would have made him act so weird. And...there it was: Dwayne's deer in headlight eyes staring at that barista as she led Frank to the shelves.

He stared at Dwayne and let out a hearty laugh. "Seriously, Dwayne? You're freaking out over one cute barista? You really are a loser, huh?" he kept on laughing like it was the funniest thing in the ever.

"Stop laughing! Could you quit it?" Dwayne's face was even redder now and he stared out the window with his arms crossed.

"Chill out, kid. Why didn't you say anything to her?"

"What would I have said to her?"

"You could've at least introduced yourself!" he just kept on laughing.

Dwayne rolled his eyes. "Whatever! It's over now please just drop it!"

Frank's laughter and Dwayne retreated to his room as soon as they got home.

That night, in his dreams, Dwayne was haunted by images of bright eyes and curvy hips.

He was a liar: this was definitely not over.