Friend Zoned

(1) He's Officially Lost His Mind

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

I froze at his words, unable to fully comprehend what he had just asked me. I stared at him and I'm sure the look of pure horror flashed across my face because he seemed to mirror the expression. Unlike him, however, I had a reason to look like this in the middle of everyone in our first hour class. He had no reason, whatsoever.

My heart rate picked up as the panic started to travel from my head to the rest of my body. The murmurs and the cooes coming from the group of students around me began to intensify—not helping me in the slightest—and caused me to do the opposite of calm down.

My thoughts raced, searching for the nearest escape to get me out of the situation. Claustrophobia had never been a problem for me; not even when I got locked in a bathroom for three hours after the door knob tapped out and decided it was quitting time. But now, being stuck between him and the desk behind me, I feel more trapped now than I did that fateful day in the upstairs bathroom of my cousin's shitty apartment.

I looked up at him, his bright blue eyes mixing with my dark brown ones, and silently questioned the sincerity behind what he just asked me. I was hanging onto the slither of hope left in me that this was all a joke, maybe even a dream perhaps; and soon we would both break out in a fit of laughs that we couldn't contain, and go back to being the best friends we were before those five words ever left his mouth. I knew this wasn't a joke though, nor was it a dream because aren't you supposed to wake up at the part where you die?

I watched him bite the corner of his mouth, something he does whenever he's nervous or frustrated; and he's making it obvious which one of those he's feeling right now. He took a step closer, and I instinctively took a step away, but the corner of the desk being pressed against my thighs stopped me from moving back any further.

"Leah, will you?" he asked again, this time quieter. His voice sounded hopeful, but there was also something else in his voice that I didn't like. It sounded like desperation, and as soon as I realized that, a sharp pain stabbed me right in the area where my heart was supposed to be.

The whole room felt stiff, and it seemed like everyone silently began to hold their breath in anticipation of my answer. I glanced around at the few people I could see standing behind him. Most of them held the same look; hopeful and encouraging. Closing my eyes I sighed inwardly.

I had known Tyler Johnson for literally half of my life, meeting him for the first time in 3rd Grade nine long years ago. He was a friend of a friend, and we were always just around each other back then; the feelings between us being a friendly mutuality. It seemed like forever ago, now that I think about it, because we've always been friends since then—but not as close as we were now. It's crazy to think about how our relationship developed into what it is now.

We got like this around the end of our Sophomore year, seeing that we had so much in common. It was three of us at first, it seeming like a little clique who always hung out together since we shared more than a couple of classes and the same lunch hour. But, obviously, the third person of our group deemed the weakest link and was soon voted off the island.

Before either of us knew it, we were inseparable. You honestly couldn't see one of us without the other being glued to one's side or trailing a few steps behind. We spent almost every waking moment together, and when we weren't together we were either sleeping or one of us was in trouble and couldn't leave the house. Any other time, we didn't do anything without the other being right there next to us.

That's just how it was with us, and we were both comfortable with it being like that.

People always talked though. People who didn't even know us personally—even at a glance—always assumed things about us. For instance, people might think we're related since we're always together; even though I'm clearly of Hispanic descent with my long, wavy black hair, deep brown eyes, and light tan colored skin. My Cuban-American features didn't even come close to comparing to the all American, "boy-next-door" look he maintained at keeping up.