My Purgatory Hell

Chapter 1

"A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you just the way you are."

-Unknown

Once I got over the initial scare, I craned my head over my shoulder to see Corwin Anders standing right behind me looking like a supermodel. Our dads were  close friends for a long while--as long as I can remember. More so when we were younger, but not as much recently. Long ago my dad would take me and my siblings over to their house so he could spend time with his friend to get out of the house. We basically watched each other go through our childhood and puberty, which was awkward.

I swatted at Corwin as he laughed at my reaction. Teasing me was no new game for this guy. Most of the time I was cool with his jokes, but I didn't feel like being teased today. "Not funny, Winnie!" I scolded with furrowed eye brows, hoping I looked ferocious like I didn't want to be messed with. Winnie was a nickname I gave Corwin years ago, because I grew sick of him calling me 'Mare-Bear'. Unlike my nickname, his nickname didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. Winnie gave me a sly grin as he cocked his head to the side. Looking closer, I noticed sleep hasn't been kind to him. His blue eyes still sparkled with mischief, but dark circles hung beneath them in betrayal.

I frowned when I noticed. "Winnie, you look tired," I stated the obvious.

Corwin just shrugged the comment off. "Just work. Nothing to be concerned about." His words did nothing to ease my worry, but I let his comment slide. This young man worked a lot. I wasn't exactly sure what it was he did, but I knew it involved cars or machinery. I only pieced this together because he would on occasion come in the store with greased up hands and a blue, button-up shirt with his name embroidered into the right shoulder. He also always seemed to smell of engine oil. The smell was oddly comforting. This probably had to do with how my dad always smelled.

If openly confronted about how I feel about him, I would outright deny how I feel about him. How did I feel about him? Well, he's caught my interest whenever he'd walk into the store. I've even had a few day dreams about him. Not the adult kind, but I would always wonder what it would be like to cook a meal for him. It sounds crazy, I know, but he is kind to me with his words. I also knew from observation that he worked a lot, and a nice, home-cooked meal would be a nice change of pace from the frozen meals he seems to buy when he visited the store. I also had the urge to give him a nice shoulder massage, because when I come home after a long shift, I always seemed to yearn for one. Besides these odd, dreamy desires, I've lost touch with who he was as a person. What I have learned I have gained from observations.

I must have been silent for a while, because Corwin snapped me back to reality by clearing his throat. "Sorry, Mare-Bear, but I kind of need to go. It was nice seeing you." Winnie gave me a warm smile. "See you around." With a final wave, he headed in the direction of the deli and ordered some chicken and potatoes.

"You too," I half-whispered a little too late. Idiot.

If God did exist, why would he torture me with what I cannot have? No way would Corwin ever consider me his girlfriend. Nor would He endlessly work people into the wringer, would He? 

I've had this stupid crush on-and-off for years. Every time I thought I was through with this silly, school-girl fawning he'd come walking through those automatic sliding doors. Then... BOOM! The feelings I thought I'd swept under the rug would wiggle out and bombard me. This crush was more annoying than anything, because I knew he'd feel nothing of what I feel for him. I was just the awkward loner. I didn't consider myself the prettiest in the slightest, and I was opposite of everything he found attractive. He was into the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls who incessantly giggled and flipped their hair. I was the brown-eyed brunette who hid behind her glasses and her favorite, bulky sweatshirt. A guy like him would never go for me.