DISTRACTED

SS: Patience, Love Strucked

In middle school, I took art class. It was seventh grade. It was one of the only electives open, so I had to take it. My class was full of fresh meat, the incoming, shy sixth graders. I sat down 2 rows from the back, in the middle, and she sat one row above me, on the left end.

She would glance at me all the time for some reason. Every ten seconds or so. I thought she was so weird, staring at me all the time. Whenever she did, I would give her that look that said, "what the hell are you staring at??", and she would give one back that said "you stared first, I'm simply staring back."

I hated her. I dreaded going into class, my eyes flickering up to find her staring at me with that look that marked me as weird, different. But, I kept finding myself doing the same, my brown eyes matching hers with the same label.

One month into class, we did the same continuous  action every day. Whether it was turning in our seats, walking across the class to grab a tool, simply turning and raising our heads, we matched eyes and looked away after .2 seconds. It made me smile sometimes. Then one day, I walked into class, and all the tables were moved around. We had changed spots.

I looked up at the board to find the roster and my seat. I sat in the top left corner of the class. Looking over to my seat, the person who sat next to me, was the one and only; the girl that couldn't stop staring.

It was hell in the first week. My throat was itching to say something, anything, but my mouth was biting on my tongue, telling me to stay silent. So I did. We constantly flickered looks from the corner of our eyes, smiling from the awkwardness. But no words.

In the second week, as she was fixing her clay creation, she mumbled a sentence I managed to hear, making me laugh. She took it as a good sign and continued to talk, soon starting our first conversation.

I actually started liking class, letting my hands get covered in clay for an hour straight. It meant I was with her.

We continued to talk, and we became friends. Eventually we exchanged numbers.

One day in class, we all had lollipops. I thought my lollipop looked cute. So I said it was my child. She laughed. I joked around, saying I was the wife, and she was the other parent. She and I were laughing so loud. The table looked at us, and I explained to them that she was Wifey and this was our child.

The nickname stuck.

Wifey and I texted everyday after school, called each other all the time, laughed and giggled and hung out all the time. We had an amazing relationship. Then I started developing feelings.

I was in love. Wifey was my first love. She stole my heart. She slowly wrapped her soft, cute little hands around my fragile, broken and beating heart, and slowly ripped it out of my chest, only to mark as hers.

Everyday, I woke up and got ready, attempting to look good for her. I fell asleep to the thought of her, answered every call, and gave her the best advice I could give. I was the best friend I could be to her. At least I tried.

For my birthday, she gave me a unicorn. A cute, little, pink fluffy and sparkly unicorn. I named it Tesa, after her. I wish I still it. I fell asleep every night with Tesa in my arms.

One day, in the locker room, she asked me a question out of the blue.

"Who do you like?," Wifey asked.

I turned my head to her, "A-Ah, what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do you like anyone?"

I nodded. "I do," I blushed harder, smiling.

"Who? Are they in this room?"

I nodded. "They are in this room." I knew I had to tell her.

She began to turn to every girl, pointing, asking. But no. It was none of them. It wasn't the blond to my right that had perfect manicured nails and straightened, trimmed hair, and perfect clothes. It wasn't the girl across the room that was so popular and had huge breasts. It was the underrated girl that was judged that was standing right next to me. She was the one I found beautiful. She was the one I loved.