I like to read.
Fuck, I LOVE to read. And it's not something that makes me any different from any girl my age because I know that there are thousands of girls just on this app that are probably the exact same age as me and absolutely love to read as well.
I say this because I know I'm not different, I know that even though at my school the only girls that like to read are the smart ones, the ones that are bound to go to Harvard or Yale or something like that. But there is a whole world out here connected by an imaginary string called the Internet and it's proof that there are many more like me, that even though we might have a slightly higher IQ from the kids taking geometry for the first time, their senior year of high school, we know we're not smart.
We just love to read.
"So what's your story?" They ask.
Well see I wouldn't quite know how to answer that because there are many stories that make up a person. But the one that seems to be Italicized, Bolded AND Underlined all at once seems to be solely about him.
I was 16, He was 24.
Yes, it's a 8 year gap.
No, this isn't some other Wattpad story, even though it might sound like one. It's insane really, to think that my love story with him is so absurd to the point others might think it's made up. And yes, I know how crazy it sounds, for a high school teenager to fall in love with some much older guy.
But here's the thing:
We met at a place where we considered equals and treated each other as equal, because even though I was only 16, I held a higher position than him, but I still respected him as much as he respected me.
Respect. That's the difference between a manipulative relationship and a healthy one, respect.
We met at work. I remember the first time I saw him, I was so intrigued by his mysterious aura and the stern face he almost always had unless he was with his friends, which, just so happened to have just become acquaintances of mine.
The first one was a really cute guy I met sometime during my second week of working there. Let's call him Jay. I remember I found him super attractive at first, he had perfect hair, and really thick lips, his eyes are dark brown and he had nice eyebrows and he was thin, he looks like he could be from Spain or Argentina. In reality, Jay is from Honduras and he is SUPER self-absorbed. It's what ended the attraction almost immediately.
The second one was a short guy, I've never really found him attractive, he's cute in his own way though. He's short, with short hair and pointy ears and a sharp jawline, I've always compared him with an elf, he has a baby face too, even though he's 21.
He didn't work there when I first met them, but after 2 months, he got a job there thanks to Jay.
I remember I used to sit with them during our breaks in the break room, they were the only people I felt sort of comfortable with at the time, seeing how they were the ones closest to my age. I remember he would go to the break room, have a laugh with his friends, and then leave after 10 minutes or so, I never knew why until I overheard his friends talking about how much he smoked.
And no, not weed, cigarettes.
I remember how intrigued I was by the fact that he had never spoken directly at me and never attempted to befriend to me. And as shallow as it sounds, it confused me. You see, everyone at work wanted to be my friend, or they attempted to be while I kind of just let them believe that they knew me in some type of way. I've always been someone people are pulled towards, because I'm that one girl that seems super nice in a class, like she could be the first person you befriend if you were a new kid, but once you meet other people, you forget about her, because you have no need for her anymore.
The first time he spoke to me, we were in an elevator. He was coming from outside from throwing away the trash while I was going upstairs to get pots to throw out the dirty fryer oil.
"Hi." he said
"Oh uh, hi."
"You're almost done?" he asked, at that time I was still able to leave before 10 because of my age.
It was 8:30 pm.
"Yeah, maybe in about an hour." I laughed.
"Well, what time do you usually get out?" he asked.
"It depends, but since I'm changing the oil, maybe around 9:30 to 10."
DING
And then it was time to get out of the elevator, I remember how hard my heart was pounding in my chest, I've always had social anxiety but for some reason with him it acted up way more than usual. I remember I had a hard time breathing for a few seconds and then returned to normal. Why did this mysterious man affect me so badly?
I remember thinking he was like 19 or something like that, he had a face and body that makes him look much younger than he actually is.
I remember we didn't talk much after the elevator, just a "Hi." here and there, sometimes with a wave or a smile.
And then there was a party, a Christmas party at work, a week before actual Christmas. I remember I was off with other people my age while my sister sat at a table with Jay and them.
I remember I sat with them after I had gotten some of the other employees to give me a bunch of alcoholic drinks.
I was tipsy, not drunk. But I remember the elf dude asked me to add him on snap and with that, so did he, I added them both.
The next day I ran away from home. It has nothing to do with this story but it emphasizes one of my points, we are made up of multiple stories, this one is one I'll save for later, just know it's there.
He told me one of his stories that night, he was born in America. Yet, he was raised in Honduras, everything he has learned has been in Spanish and in a country I have never been too but have been so close to the border of that I understand his culture.
He had a very small limp on his left leg, he's been shot there before.
I remember at the end of the night when we were both a little drunk but not to the point anyone could tell, he sort of draped his arm around me and smiled.
A few days later he would post a video of his speakers as he blasted a random song he was listening to that day. I texted him jokingly asking him if he was partying again when he obviously wasn't. That's how the friendship started, we would respond to each other's stories on snap, just joking around and I guess now I realize we were both flirting.
Then the conversation at work. I would making milkshakes and he would be cleaning, dumping the trash out, but more importantly, we would be talking. He would tell me the stories of the shit he and his friends used to do when they were younger, when they were in high school.
God, I love his stories.
I remember there was a point when he started talking about ex girlfriends and he started asking for my stories. I hadn't had a boyfriend yet. But I did have a friends with benefits before, a fuck buddy. But it wasn't something I was ready to tell him yet.
He asked me why I hadn't had a boyfriend before.
I told him the truth, "nobody likes me."
He said, "Well that's not true, there's always at least one person that likes you, no matter you are."
"Maybe." I said, "but if so, they've never said it and the people I like, never like me back. And I guess I'm too insecure for a relationship anyway."
"That makes sense." He said.
And then he continued on to ask about my sister, my life, my stories.
I was so attracted to his perspective of life, how different it was from mine, how different our stories were.
I was 16 and he was 24.
I've always been good at math but every minute I was with him, I forgot what numbers were.
I fall into a lot of stereotypes of the average American teenager, I won't deny that. But he knew to look past that. He'd learn not to judge a book by its cover in the years that had passed.
Age has its perks sometimes.
