Letting Go...

Chapter 8

  As expected, Greg freaked the fuck out. We had walked into class and she had greeted him with a wide smile and said, "Good morning, Greg."   

  His eyes, having been trailed on board in front, snapped up to meet her hers in utter disbelief. He stared at her, mouth agape, in shock as he tried to figure out whether he had imagined it or not. It was very, very amusing.   

  "What?"    

  Charlize chuckled. "I said, good morning. How are you doing?"He gasped loudly and began to cough, choking on his own damn saliva. Yup, that's Greg. Smooth, real smooth.

"Holy fucking shit!" He wheezed, grasping his throat, still staring wide eyed at Charlize who was watching him in worry.

  "Are you okay?" She asked, patting his back awkwardly. He just about stopped breathing as soon as she touched him. He turned his head to stare at her hand, before jumping up from his chair and wrapping her in her tight hug. He bounced up and down with her in his arms, squealing like a fan girl.

"Oh my god, you're talking to me! Ahh! Finally, I thought it was going to last forever!" She rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "Alright, calm your horses, you freak." He sat back in his seat, like a good little boy and smiled at her in awe.

  "This is the happiest moment of my life." He gushed.

  Charlize turned to me and pursed her lips, snapping her fingers in failure. "Damn." I winked at her, laughing.   

   In first period we had placed a bet on how Greg would take it. She thought that he would take it in stride and not make a big deal out of it, while I knew that this is exactly how he would react.  Greg may be the big, bad, quarterback, but inside he was an immature, little boy that loved playing games and acting like a fool. He just kept up the façade of badassery to keep the people of James Madison, content.   

  "You owe me a buck fifty, Charles." I stated, holding out my palm for my victory money.   

She walked past me, slapping my hand and then giving it a fist punch. "In your dreams."   

  I gasped dramatically. "Are you a sore loser, Charles? I won fair and square, young lady, and it is only right that you respect our bet and pay me what I earned." I said with country accent, causing her to look at me from her peripheral like she was afraid to look me in the eyes.   

  "Quite frankly, I do not believe that it was fair and square considering that he is your best friend and I hardly know him. You would know his reactions better than I would and you used this information to win the bet. You hustled me!" She accused, putting her nose up and closing her eyes.

  "Dude, she's even funnier when she talks." Greg whispered to me, leaning over his desk to stare at her in wonder.

  "I did not hustle you. How dare you accuse me of such an atrocious atrocity, I am appalled at this accusation." I playfully glared at her, as she gasped and put a hand to her chest, her eyes as wide as saucers.

  "Well than! I never! Are you calling me a liar?" She yelled, sparking the interest of the rest of the class.

  "I said no such thing. I am just saying that you should reevaluate your facts before you make hurtful insinuations." I said, shrugging my shoulders. I was finding this playful side of her extremely amusing. She was usually so stoic and turns out she has this hilarious side of her that she apparently keeps under wraps. She is quite a character once she decides to talk to you.

  The advice she gave me this morning was still circulation my brain. Fuck'em. Sounded easy enough but it wasn't,  people were staring at me and turning to whisper about me to their friends. Just before this class, Charlize and I had been walking here when this random freshman girl came up to me and tried to offer me her condolences before walking over to her friends who were watching the whole thing with sorrowful expressions.