Hanging With The Boys

03.

I WALK OUT of the house and to my car, trying desperately to hold back the tears at the memories I have of how people treated me at my last school.

"It's quieter upstairs." Brent tells me, still holding my hand as he guides me up the stairs. We make it to a bedroom at the top of the stairs and enter. He closes the door . Looking back, I should have left then but I was too smitten with the fact that a guy like Brent was taking an interest in me that I didn't realize that something could go wrong.

We sit down on the bed and talk for what feels like hours. But I don't remember what we talked about. The only thing that I remember from that night, is the thing that shaped my next year of high school.

"I admire you Henley." Brent says, holding my hand in his and stroking it with his thumb. 

"Why?" I ask, a goofy smile on my face, wondering what there possibly was to admire.

"You do your own thing and don't care what people think. You focus on your studies instead of parties and stuff. I think that's pretty cool." 

"I guess you're pretty cool too." I smile.

He moves his hands from my hands to my face, cupping my cheeks. Then he brings his lips to mine and we kiss. It's a great kiss and it feels like it continues forever. I never thought that I would ever kiss someone like Brent, the most popular guy in school. The guy every girl simply wants to talk to, kissing him was a totally different desire. One that had never actually crossed my mind. I never even knew I wanted to talk to him until he invited me to this party.

He moves his hands from my face in a downward motion along my arms, letting them come to a rest on my hips. I'm now laying on my back as we kiss. His fingers start to work there way up under my shirt and a startled feeling hits me, my heart starts to race.

"Woah." I say, taking his hands off of me and sitting up. "Not so fast." I say, letting out a small laugh so I don't seem too harsh. For some reason despite what he's suggesting with the movement of his hands, I don't want him to stop kissing me. "What do you mean?" he asks. "Making out is one thing and I'm fine with that. But sex is a whole other step that's just too much right now. I'm not ready for that yet, especially since this is our first conversation." I say. "Playing hard to get, I like that. But, seriously, I know you want to." He smirks, leaning in to kiss my neck. My stomach churns as I grab his shoulders to keep him away. "No, I don't." I say sternly, standing up and turning to leave.

"Babe, you're overreacting." He says, grabbing my wrist so I don't walk any further. "No, I'm not." I say, pulling my arm away forcefully. "Yes, you are! Every girl wants to date me! Every girl wants to have sex with me!" he yells, and I hope no one can hear us. "Clearly not every girl!" I yell, slamming the door to the room, running down the stairs and out the door.

I can't let my life at my last school get me down. I'm starting out from scratch. Everything else doesn't matter. I have great friends and they just want to know more about me. They didn't mean to bring up something that might upset me. But when I get into my car, I can't help but let a few tears fall. Not a lot, only a few, at the memory of my terrible experience. The messages from guys. The comments. The questions. The teasing. The unwanted attention.

The Sunday after the party I go on instagram, having gotten multiple notifications recently. I open the app, curious about what warrants so many notifications. I haven't posted a picture in a couple weeks, so it can't be notifications from that. I finally bring myself to look to see exactly what's going on. 5 new follow requests, all from guys I've never spoken to but recognize from walking the halls at school. 10 messages, half from guys who follow me but have never attempted to talk to me before and the other half from the guys requesting to follow me, also requesting to send messages. Then there are at least 15 new comments on past pictures that I've posted.