The Infatuation Phase.

The Textbook

Her POV

 It is amazing how one day you can be strangers with someone. In a spur of a moment, they become the one you think about constantly. They have permanently engraved their name into every inch of your mind. Your every thought is disrupted by their presence. It is a haunting feeling you can not seem to get rid of, no matter how hard you try. Or maybe it was just who I was, getting way too attached way too quickly. Maybe that's what was good about infatuation; no matter how far it went, it was only temporary.  

"I get that you're enjoying the view but could you just get in the car," he whined.

 "Asshole," I  so-subtly coughed as I climbed into the passenger seat of his beat-up rusty old car. 

"You know it," he winked. My insides began to twist into knots, so I looked out the window to find distractions. 

The engine roared to life, and off we were to where he wanted to eat. There were only two choices, and I never got to pick. It was always fast food, but I was surprised his body was unaffected by it. He was a toothpick with everything noticeably toned. He was definitely not a gym buff, but he did enjoy swimming. A lot of swimming that is. 

He was one smart-ass. He never disappointed when it came to school. He went on and on about his AP classes and the amount of content that he was drowned in every time he came home. He complained all the time, but he managed. He was too good; he aced all his test, one after another. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, and when to fill in the silence. He was friends with everyone no matter who they were, he at least knew of their existence.  However, some character traits were more noticeable than others. 

He was an actual asshole. He liked to leave a string of girls along. No matter who it was, he would let one girl after another fall for him in an instant. They fell into his hands like silly putty and he would play along until he got bored. In one moment, he's carrying a conversation as it could go on forever, and in another moment he cuts them off , never contacting them ever again. There were many nice girls, hot girls for a matter of fact. There were many smart girls, many airheads, and he put on this facade that would magically get all of them to like him.  He would never go too far with them. He would occasionally take them out for lunch or for take out, take them to his car where they would make-out endlessly. He would drive around the city, until he found some open space like a drive through movie an empty parking lot and just compliment every single flaw they believed they had.

He'd make up some cheesy pick up line, blinding them from what an actual complete asshole he is. They would stand outside in the freezing cold, and he would offer them his jacket. His dark brown waves would be tousled in a heap of a mess that could never have looked more natural and perfect. As his eyes made contact with theirs, they would intake a sharp breath. He would then proceed to wink and shoot them with an effortless smile; the one and only smile that would follow from his lips, to his cheek bones, all the way to his light brown eyes. He was a complete gentleman. It was hard not to fall for him. I would know. 

I avoided everything possible to become one of these girls. I didn't want to be tagged along,  so I became his second choice. I never bore into his eyes with a longing look, and I never complimented his looks. Instead, I would turn and change the subject or my direction until the feeling would go away. I was the go-to friend  when the girl they actually wanted to talk to was not available. I accepted our circumstances, and settled. And there he was, sitting perfectly right before me. It pained me to look at him. I couldn't do anything about it. No matter how many times I would chant to not get attached, I managed to cling on to his existence. To the existence that there was a possibility that one day, in one moment I would be worth his time. 

We were at his house, eating the Chinese take-out he ordered. He handed me over a carton of noodles and I took a seat on his couch. He pulled out his physics textbook from his bag and I groaned. 

"Really? Now?" I whined. I was really looking forward to a quiet meal and a movie. 

"Just for an hour or two, I've got an exam coming up and need you to help me study," he begged. He bent down on his knees right in front of where I was sitting, and proceeded to plead. He placed his head right on top of my knees, and I stand up. 

"Is this why you bought take-out this time?" I asked. 

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe later on we'll  get back in the car and-" he said. 

"Alright! Let's get started." I cut him off. No, that is not going to happen. Even if you want it to happen, it's not going to happen. You're better than this, I said to myself. I hated him so much. 

His POV

She was lying down on the floor, her eyes fixated on the page of the textbook. 

"How many significant figures are there in 0.001?" She yawned. 

I knew the answer. It was somewhere racked inside my brain, and I found it instantly. But why didn't I know why this girl was so special? 

Maybe it was the way her brown hair naturally fell down her shoulders and the way it softly waved. Perhaps it was her obnoxious laugh that brought me to tears every time I heard it. Maybe it was the way she smiled even though she knew I wasn't in the greatest mood. Maybe it was the way she could have gone on and on about how much she appreciated life even though I never saw it that way.  Maybe it was the way she looked at me, that I wasn't just an asshole; probably not. 

I admired her love for literature. She looked at a book and absorbed everything it had to offer. It made her intelligent and wise, patient. She was quiet, but her presence screamed. I wanted to know everything about her, but she liked keeping to herself.  Other girls were so much easier. 

Whenever she was around, it was as if I had to keep my distance. I had to make sure not to scare her away. She was fragile, and I was afraid to break her. I never wanted to see her as one of the girls I just hooked up with. I never gave her special treatment; it would only lead to shit that I didn't want to do. Everyone in my life kept leaving, everything was only temporary. She was the only constant thing in my life, the only thing I could rely on being there when nothing else seemed to make sense. 

I wanted to hold her closer than ever. But if holding her meant losing her, I wasn't ready to risk that just for my personal needs. I looked at her full eyes, and the way they began to slowly shut. The moon was full, beaming its natural light on her angelic face. I took the textbook away from her, putting it back in my bag. I grabbed a blanket from the closet, and she stood up and walked towards me.

"Goodnight," she said softly, and kissed me on the cheek. I held her frail arms and she stayed there, her chin resting on my shoulder.  

"I would wait for you if it meant I got to hold you like this" I told her, stupidly thinking she couldn't hear me. 

She leaned back, looking at me intently. Slowly, her face leaned in close to mine. Our foreheads were pressed together, our lips only a small proximity away from each other. She managed to gently brush her lips against mine. My breathing had become erratic, and so had hers. Her eyes looked into mine, and she broke the silence. 

"You're such an asshole," she smiled. 

"You know it," I laughed. 

She finally closed the empty space between us, her soft lips pressed on mine. She was taken aback, breathless and shocked. I smiled, and my lips were on hers again. Every time we broke apart, her smile was against my own and we were laughing. I rushed to meet her lips a million times like a tidal wave that met its shore. The taste of her lingered, and I craved her a little more each time.  

We stopped for a bit, and she began to push me towards the stairs. Instead, I picked her up and carried her to my bed. I lay down beside her, my arms around her waist. She turned towards me, her lips on mine once again. Every nerve inside my body was sparked to life. She eventually fell asleep, despite the number of times I kissed her awake. Instead, she placed her small hand in mine and our fingers were intertwined. I snaked my arm around her waist, and held her close to my chest. 

 We held onto the existence of us.