The Wallflower And The Jock {on hold}

1. The Wallflower

“You’re kidding right?” I asked in shock.

“No. I’m not. I’m sorry, I gotta go.” He said, averting his eyes from mine.

I watched my best friend leave the room, not even glancing back as a million thoughts entered my mind.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I thought again. It had been three hours since he had told me; and I still couldn’t believe it. The same thoughts kept on racing through my mind; the same words repeated over and over again, yet I still couldn't grasp it.

I clung to the cold chain of the swing where I idly sat, which probably made me look like a zombie. Not moivng, the slight brush of the late autumn winds causing the swing to move slightly.  I was in the town park, the orange leaves dancing in the wind; a sign that it was nearing winter. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose as I sat there, still barely swinging, replaying for the umpteenth time what had just transpired.

I sighed.  I was thinking too much again.  I looked around and took in my surroundings as a familiar feeling washed over me.

Our park. I thought, as a small smile crept upon my face. I felt the cool metall of the chain that held the swing together as I looked around.  This was the place where so many of our memories were made. Both good and bad –well, mostly good. But now this?

This can’t be happening. I reminded myself.  It was easy to think for one moment that nothing was wrong–only to have it hit you like a tidal wave a second later.  I absolutely dreaded that feeling.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the happier times. This park was actually where we first met. Where everything started; I closed my eyes and almost immediately, fragments of that day flickered throughout my mind. It was as if a movie was playing in my head.  I sighed as I remembered that day, all those years ago, the day that had completely changed my life.

 *Ten years before

“Where are we going mommy?” I asked, my eyes wide with excitement as my mother put on my seatbelt in the car.  Strapping it tight, just for extra measure.

She smiled at me softly, excitement clear in her emerald eyes. “We’re going to meet a friend.”  I didn’t say anymore after that; I was too curious. Who was this friend?

We arrived at the park a little while later. I held my mother’s hand as we walked, my tiny five-year-old feet touching the grass. I remembered that it was a beautiful day. And even though it happened so long ago, I could still remember the big, fluffy clouds that dominated the sky, the orange leaves falling from the trees as we passed by, and the wind brushing my auburn hair lightly.

My mom led us to a nearby picnic table where a woman who looked vaguely familiar, holding the hand of a boy with dark hair that was about my age sat. I widened my eyes and hid behind my mother. I couldn’t help it, I was uncontrollably shy, and it was the main reason why I didn’t have any friends.

“Zoe, sweetie, I want you to meet Aunt Courtney and her son, Brent.” My mom told me gently. I saw Brent’s pale blue eyes shimmer with curiosity as he looked at me. He hopped down his seat and slowly made his way to me. I noticed my mother slowly backing away from me, but I grabbed on to the hem of her skirt to stop her.  She gave me an encouraging smile and placed my hand gently by my side, then she slowly made her way to the picnic table where Aunt Courtney sat.

I focused my attention back to the boy that was in front of me, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, and all of a sudden, he slapped his hand against my shoulder. “Tag! You’re It!” He yelled, before running towards the opposite direction. Laughing at his sudden move, I found myself running after him, my hair flying behind me.

***

We became friends after that. Best friends, actually. Aunt Courtney, I found out later, was my mom’s best friend since high school and had just recently moved into town, two houses away. Which made it easier for Brent and I to see each other often, giving the opportunity for our friendship to grow stronger.

He was there for me on the first day of school, when I was too shy to speak--or look--at anyone. He defended me when James Adams and his “gang” picked on me in third grade. He was even there for me when I got my first freaking period. Well, he was the one that called my mom while I locked myself in the bathroom –but still.

He was my only friend for a really long time, but I he didn't mind, and neither did I.

That is, until freshman year of high school, when he joined the school's varsity football team.  I remember not being able to spend time--or even hang out--with him because he was practicing almost all the time.  I would sit on the bleachers alone, reading a book, waiting for him to finish.  Eventually, i had to stop, because Brent didn't want to burden me with waiting for him all the time.

Soon after that, he started hanging out with his team mates, and then eventually, he started hanging out with the popular kids. 

So guess where that left me?

I was too shy to talk to him about it, or to even say anything, so we had a mutual, mental agreement. We wouldn't talk about it, and we would act like nothing was out of the ordinary when we were at home.

And then sophomore year came.  The year that everything started to go completely downhill.

Brent had completely deserted me, and the popular kids started to target me as their new object of mischief.  They made fun of everything; my quiet and still shy demeanor, mostly.  And I never had the guts to stand up for myself, or say anything about the matter to my parents.

They year droned on, with them making fun of me while Brent stood there watching.

And he never did anything about it.

He acted completely normal when we weren't in school--like nothing had changed. Like we were still best friends, and he wasn't some stranger to me the second that we passed those big oak doors.  So, I just left it alone, even if it killed me every time inside to just see him staring emotionless at me while his "friends" constantly bullied me.  I remember thinking that it was better being friends with him outside of school instead of not being friends with him at all.

At the time, he was my only real friend.  I couldn't lose him.

Eventually, I grew tired of being the only member of my pity party, so I made friends with a few girls that I met through class, or from the library.  It was difficult at first, but eventually, they became my usual hang out.

I think Brent was actually relieved to see me hanging out with actual people instead of just moping around with a book.  He never said it out loud, but it was a clear understanding between us. 

I could read him, he could read me.  We were best friends that nobody knew about.

I guess even then, I still thought of us as best friends--nothing more, obviously. I never paid attention to the fact that I was always so giddy with excitement whenever he said he’d be coming over; or the fact that I loved his smile more than anything in the world. I didn’t even dwell on the horrible feeling I would get in the pit of my stomach whenever I would see him with another girl.

I just seriously thought that that was normal.  We were best friends. Wasn’t I supposed to feel that way?

And then i finally realized it.  What might just cost me the friendship that I valued the most wasn't what he had just told me, or what was to come soon after. It was the indisposable fact that I had, after one hell of a year, managed to fall for my best friend.

 Oh crap.

 A/N: Hey guys! :) If you're reading this, I just want to thank you so much for giving this story a chance! I hope that you give it a chance, because this is only the beginning, and the next chapters will be waaaay better and more intriguing, so please please please stick around for that! :)