10 Things I hate About Her (10 Things #1)

24. Promposals and Tricks

May was the second last month I would spend in high school. It was plagued by this uncomfortable sensation sitting on my chest. A rabid fear that said the future wouldn't turn out the way I expected it to, and that everything would go to hell. In those moments of paralysis, I would look at Naomi, and she would hold my hand to calm me down. Things would feel right. Because, how could they be wrong? Even when I had avoided Naomi out of fear of the consequences of loving her, she had never given up on me. Even when we quarrelled every now and again, we always made an effort to work things out. Not to brag or anything, but we were wonderful together.

She stood proudly in her devotion like a blooming tulip. No matter how strong the wind was that shook the flower, it never fell. And finally, it bloomed among all its hardships and shined brighter than any other.

I parked my motorcycle in the school's posterior parking lot. Naomi got off first and stood to the side. She removed her helmet, and as she stood with her back to the sun, its rays illuminated her auburn hair and made it look like it was on fire. She raked her hand through her wavy locks, sweeping stray strands away from her face.

I held my helmet beneath my arm and stared at her with a real stupid look on my face. I asked, "How do you manage to look so beautiful in the morning?"

She smiled but said nothing. She held out her hand. I got off my bike, and feeling rather poetic, I bowed and pressed my lips against her hand. Naomi chuckled and said, "You're up to no good this morning."

I straightened my back and held her hand in my mine. Though the parking lot was filled with students and parents coming and going, a few of them paused to stare at the two of us being openly gay. I smiled at them as we walked towards the school's entrance. While a few people harassed us because of our sexuality, most were quiet and respectful. We had almost reached the metal doors when Naomi said, "So prom is in two weeks."

"Is that so?"

Naomi said, "It's so, and people normally do promposals for this sort of thing.... Right?"

I noticed a competitive spark in her eyes.

We joined the crowd of students pushing through the open doors. Their loud chatter interrupted our own, and soon we walked into the air-conditioned building with its purple hallways topped by a glass ceiling with a view of the cloudy, azure sky. I told her, "I have heard of promposals, yes, I have."

My own competitiveness had lit a fire in my belly. I should prompose to Naomi before she promposes to me.

"So, I'll see you at lunch?" she asked, pausing in front of her Food and Nutrition class.

"Mhm." I was somewhat distracted at this point. Why did she mention lunch? Would she be promposing at lunch? Didn't that give me two hours to come up with an awesome promposal to beat hers? She kissed my cheek. Her teacher standing in the doorway rolled his eyes but said nothing. Naomi gave me a look that suggested she liked him just as much as he liked her. With a small smile, I watched her back as she disappeared into the classroom.

Her teacher was a small, slender man with thinning hair. He scanned me from head to toe and snorted. Other students walked into the classroom without acknowledging him, but a few waved to me. I recognized a few girls from the volleyball team and said a polite 'hello' to them. The teacher continued to watch me with his same condescending stare. I asked him, "Do you have a problem with me, sir? Have I done something to offend you? If I have, I apologize, sir."

"Our school has a hands-off policy."

I told him, "I'm pretty sure that policy is about fighting. By the way, I see plenty of other kids walking around holding hands, and you don't have a problem with them. What's wrong with Naomi and I doing the same? Is that rule only for us?"