A Recipe for Disaster

jealous

As the day went on, I walked to my next class. 

The crowded hallways filled with a mix of sweat and perfume—especially that overbearing scent of Champagne Toast. Seriously, too much Champagne Toast.

For the first time in about a month, I was walking down the hall alone, and I couldn't help but do the one thing I was good at.

Thinking.

What was the point of all this? What the hell was making Maya jealous?

Why did I do this?

Why did I try to make Maya jealous?

Am I obsessed with her or something? No way. I can't be.

I mean, I don't know everything about her, and I don't want to. And I never will! I'm 1000% sure about that.

But why Maya? I still don't get it. I mean, I understand why—she's pretty and all—but why? She could probably have any guy in the world. Why Graham? And there's no way it's true love. It can't be money either—he's from a middle-class family. Maybe it's a deal like the one Jentzen and I have. Maybe he's making me jealous.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head slightly as I walked up the stairs to history class.

I sound insane. Graham can like other people. He doesn't have to like me. He doesn't like me as much as I—

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, finally realizing what I was saying. People bumped into me as I stood frozen, my legs refusing to move, my brain unable to function properly.

Oh, fuck! I like him!

At that moment, I felt my chest do too many things at once: first, it released an unexpected weight off my shoulders that I didn't know I was carrying. Secondly, my heart started to run a marathon, beating twice as fast, my hands trembled slightly, and I didn't know what to do. So I continued walking to my class, hoping I'd make it there on time, unsure of what to say or do next.