It Takes Two.

S- (The Legend Of) Miss Baltimore Crabs

I've been shuffling around the room for a few hours now, introducing myself to everyone I can. I slip in and out of conversations with ease, some more serious than others. Plenty of people talk about the activism. Many speak about the dancing. My favorite groups are the ones that talk about how they intertwine.

I try my hardest not to speak in these groups unless I'm being asked directly. I know a lot more than these people do about what really happened to my grandparents, but it's interesting to watch people grow on ideas about their history. Stories are nothing if not passed around.

I'm standing across from a woman who looks to be right around college age, who heard about the celebration from the posts I had made on my parents' Instagram. She's been raving about my parents' book for a while now, giving me details on each plot and every character. While I enjoy listening to people talk and tell me their stories, this is beginning to get excessive. It doesn't help that I need to use the restroom either.

Just then, almost as if she's read my mind, my mother walks up to me and smiles at the woman I'm talking to. She asks if she can steal me for a moment, and I can see the woman's face light up. My mother grabs my hand and drags me away before the inevitable fan girling begins.

"There's someone I need you to meet," My mother says sweetly. There's not a sign of nervousness in her eyes, which amazes me. As much as I pride myself on being good with people, they scare the living shit out of me, too.

She squeezes my hand as she pulls me into another conversation. Suddenly I'm met eye to eye with green bangs. I look into the eyes directly under the chopped hair, these perfectly hazel orbs looking slightly up at me. They're concealed by round glasses, but I can see them clear as day. They shine in the sunlight from the windows. I realize that in order to know her name, I have to talk first.

I shoot my hand up in hopes that she'll take it, "Hi. I'm Sebastian. And you are?" I take the chance to glance at her while I have it. White tights and a blue dress, which she looks almost uncomfortable in. Her converse are covered in doodled stars and there are beads strung along the laces. Her mother is standing next to her, but I barely notice as she's taken my hand. The moment is excruciatingly brief, but that doesn't matter because she held my hand anyway.

I look at her face again, gaining just enough consciousness to hear her name, "Thalia," She sings. I stare at her eyes again and realize that if I don't leave now, I'm going to piss myself. I tell our small group that I need to leave and move around them. My arm brushes against hers, and I swear my forearm lights up like the fourth of July. I book it into the bathroom in the hall as quickly as I can, letting go of the breath that I didn't know I was holding.

After doing my business and resetting my malfunctioning brain, I slip back out of the dingy bathroom and into the empty hallway. The bustling of our celebration has slowed down slightly. I check the black watch on my wrist, just now noticing how long my family has been here. It's almost 1 in the afternoon, and we got here at 10 this morning. I thought for sure that we would be done by now, but it is slowing down slightly.

I look at the open doorway and prepare myself to see her again. Thalia. Green bangs with little braids coming off the side. Blue dress. White tights. I take a deep breath, allowing myself to breathe in our interaction. If I don't break it down, I will fall apart from the anxiety of her presence. There's not a single bone in my body that believes that I even have a slight chance with her, but then again, maybe there is.

I finally step back into the room, almost scooting around the outside walls, forcing myself away from the different groups. I just want to float on the outskirts until I know where she is and I can solidly avoid her for the rest of the night. She may be beautiful, but that means she's intimidating too.

I scan around the room, but I can't seem to spot the brightly colored hair in the sea of people, so I opt for shoes. I search the floor with my eyes, trying to find her worn high tops among the crowd. Eventually, I find them, and she's standing on the opposite corner of the room. I look up to her face, her arms crossed and the smile I saw when we met has faded into the combined noise of the room. From the looks of it, she doesn't seem to be having a very good time. I wonder if she even wanted to come. Or why my mom wanted me to know her. Did she think we'd be good together or something? There's no way. I have so many questions I want to ask Thalia. Where she's from. How she got to be so cool. If she thinks I'm cool.

I watch as she shuffles from one foot to the other nervously. Maybe if I just walk up to her and say hello we could have a nice conversation. I could also help her feel more comfortable. But as much as I want to do that, she's not just another person who will let me listen. She's a girl that I have a crush on. Sixteen and I'm still having schoolyard crushes. Jesus.

(Word count: 957)

I actually am so excited for them to finally be comfortable together that I am writing a story at least once a day. Big plans coming soon. YAY!