Never Spoken

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ONE

L’esprit de l’escalier; French for shit-I-shouldn’t-have-left-the-conversation-without-saying-what-I-want-to. I get an awful lot of that.

It was right there, at the tip of your tongue, all you have to do was to blurt it out. You could just do it and get done with it. But for some reasons, you can’t. It’s either because your stomach flipped crazily, you can barely speak, or your mind is shooting a thousand different directions, or your hands are too sweaty. And before you know it, you become part of the background as someone else—always someone else— strolls in the scene, takes his hand, as if to say, “Hey, dweeb, I got what you want.” All because you were too scared and she has nothing to lose. 

            Even as a child, Austin Tanner’s green eyes never failed to make my heart skip a beat. Whenever I look straight into those round, clear green eyes, it’s as if the river I used to bathe into in Ireland was brought to Minnesota. It always gave me the odd, mixed feeling of nostalgia and home.

            “Austin, I like you more than I should.”It should’ve been easy, if he wasn’t the Austin who was my playmate, who knew a little bit of everything about me and watched me through the awkward years—braces, struggle with make-up and (a total taboo) training bras.

             We weren’t best friends, but I was the closest thing he has to a sister—if I felt the same way about him, I wasn’t sure.  But nothing stays the same ever, even me and him. Sixteen short years of our lives, Austin Tanner gets to be the dreamiest boy in all Minnesota and I get to lose a lot.

            We went together to this private Christian school for six years until bankruptcy hit my father’s company and he lost the position he held since I was eight. The nine thousand dollars a year that used to be nothing became too much and I had to move to a local public high school, leaving Austin behind.

THE PERK OF BEING THE CLOSEST GIRL TO AUSTIN TANNER: You get to have a say about everything: girls, clothes, music, perfumes.

THE DOWNSIDES OF BEING THE CLOSEST GIRL TO AUSTIN TANNER: You don’t get to say how you really feel about him and you get to miss him when a bitch of a girlfriend he has told him to stay away from you—he may be the best friend but he also happen to be a very loyal boyfriend.

Now, my life as a Dalecombe High student—glamorous. (Not!)

           Late October afternoon, I was sitting contentedly under the shade the big, old I-never-knew-what-kind-of tree was giving me, I stared out the soccer field, mentally cursing Gwendolyn Reynolds for making me suffer like this. It’s as if it wasn’t enough that I don’t get to see Austin that much anymore.

            From here, I was hidden from the rest of the world—with an exception.

            “My name’s Logan,” I jolted as a familiar voice whispered behind me. “But you can call me hot.”

            A smile crept into me, “Heavens, L, can’t you ever leave me in peace?” I said, half annoyed, half amused.

            He sat beside me, smirking; his mischievous eyes were hidden under his Ray Bans, his red-dyed hair, ruffled. “Why so jumpy, Mads?”

            “Don’t you have anything else to do? You always come here.”

            “Unfortunately, no.” He stretched his legs and grunted, “My mom grounded me from video games forever.”