Love to Hate You • E.D.

twenty eight

"Alright all we gotta do is climb through." Jack said as he heaved himself up.

"You expect me to fit through that?"

"Sweetheart you're smaller than the both of us you'll be just fine." Cameron said, gesturing me ahead.

I heaved myself up and surprisingly was able to slide through and onto the bleachers with ease.

As soon as I stood up to brush myself off, I could see that I had a straight shot view of the team, and especially Ethan.

"I thought you said I wasn't going to be obvious."

"Trust me, you won't be, they barely ever look over this way." Jack said, as he stood tall with pride.

The only thing I could do now was trust them. Scary. That's when I realize that I'm standing in between Cameron Dallas and Jack Dail, two of the most popular and rudest guys in school. Have been since sixth grade.

It isn't until halftime that I finally figure out how crazy I must seem. What is Ethan going to do when he sees me, if he sees me? Will he push me off like I've done to him, or will he take me in his arms and tell me that he loves me? Down below on the track, I see the cheerleaders doing one of their routines, and so I see Andrea, the captain. They're riling up our students section on the left side of the stands, and everyone is screaming, using clickers, throwing balloons around, and at least half of us have face paint with our school colors.

"This is stupid." I mutter to Cameron next to me, leaning in so he can hear me over all the screaming.

"No it isn't. We back our friends up, and E is one of the best friends I've ever had. He's been a mess without you, i can't even begin to explain it. That boy nearly punched me in the face the day after prom. I lost him and I'm not gonna let you do the same." I don't reply while I stand there, watching the players crowd back onto the field for the second half of the game.

I can feel my heart swelling in my chest, my stomach tying itself into knots, and my head spinning so fast I'm afraid it will fly right off my neck. I want so badly to run away, but my feet are glued to where I stand, as if demanding I stay.

I keep my eyes on the huddle of players and as if by an act of God I see number eight turn in my direction. My breath completely escapes me but I can't tear my eyes away. I want him to see me yet at the same time I want to dive down underneath the crowd. My legs become so stiff, forcing me to remain tall.

Please see me.

I can tell he's searching the crowd.

I'm right here.

He looks to the far left, slowly scanning.