Notice Me

              I watched in silent envy as my best friend pulled the tux coat over his shoulders. Those strong, firm shoulders she would rest her hands upon tonight. She would dance with him all night—one hand on his shoulders, another on his waist. He would guide her around the dance floor, their love-struck eyes looking only at each other, foreheads close and then… It was too painful to think about what could happen next, yet I knew it was inevitable; they’d been together for a year after all. What better setting for a kiss than prom? I forced a smile and complimented my friend. He smiled in return, his chestnut eyes glinting and thanked me, “You don’t look so bad yourself you know. If every guy in the room doesn’t fall in love with you tonight then I know nothing about beauty.” I felt flattered of course, but I couldn’t help but feel that bitter taste at the back of my mouth.

            “I don’t want every guy in the stupid room to fall in love with me. Just that one person. The only one I can’t have. The one who would never look at me in that way…” I thought to myself. He was beaming however, completely unaware of my foul thoughts, and I felt the jealous monster strike again. He’d be smiling at HER like that for the rest of the night.

            Our moms rushed into the room. In one fluid motion we were ushered outside, pictures being taken wherever we turned. His mom complimented how beautiful I looked in my dress. “The blue really brings out your eyes,” someone said, probably his older sister. I thanked them all, doing my best to sound happy, while cursing the stupid gown. The only person I wanted to notice my eyes, my gown, to notice me would never do so.

            The doorbell rang, and the room was stagnant for a second as our moms sized each other up, before sprinting towards the door simultaneously. They chattered excitedly, and I think my mom even let out a little squeal as they opened the door. She walked into the room then, being greeted warmly left and right, the peach colored gown catching fire as the lights in the room reflected off of it. She looked stunning—her light brown hair in an elegant bun with the bottom layer left hanging down; her accessories were perfect, her skin was perfect. She was perfect. My heart cried quietly as I watched her glide over to his side—my best friend, the person I grew up with; the one who knew every secret of mine.

            Except this one.

            I was placed at their side next—a group picture, done in a flash. She smiled at me then, greeted me, said I looked nice. I scoffed after she left. “Nice my ass,” I muttered. I was nothing compared to her. And she knew it. The next events happened in a blur for me. We were in the car and I was assigned shotgun seat so that the lovers could be seated together. Our mothers were still letting out inhumane sounds of excitement, occasionally letting out some coherent words. My dad stood at the porch, looking worried at the women’s behavior and shot me a nervous glance. I tried to send him a reassuring smile and that was enough for him. My mom had won some sort of contest and was the designated driver. I mentally cursed all the supportive parents of the world, and the moronic people that invented such an event as prom.

            Of course she had to be the most beautiful person in the room. All the other girls couldn’t compare no matter how hard they tried. She took over the dance floor immediately. All eyes were on her and her boyfriend. My stupid best friend. The pang in my chest happened again as the thought crossed my mind, that she had gone through all the effort, that she looked like she did tonight, for HIM.

            I sat down at one of the tables, my lonely, hurt self setting a dark mood around me. One of my friends tried to talk to me, to pull me over to the dance floor, telling me to have fun. I shook my head and spoke, my voice barely audible, “Please, don’t…” She let go.

            After what seemed like eternity I left—the image of them burned into my eyes.

            Them dancing. Them holding hands, fingers intertwined. Him raking his hands through her lovely hair. Him kissing those full, rose colored lips. If only she had noticed me at all. If only she knew how much I cared. Maybe she would grow to like me too, as much I loved her. Maybe then all the pain I’d gone through would have been worth it.

If only…