Like You Like Me ✔

13

For a second, I thought I was being taken, but the dramatic sobbing and potent smell of cherry lip gloss quickly put those fears to rest. The arms hugging me could only belong to five girls: Becky, Ivy, Miley, Britney, Olivia, and Staci—aka the Bimbos.

Those five girls were basically interested in two things: their looks and guys (specifically jocks). Fake Damian would've gladly accepted their attention and consolation. But real Damian couldn't unsee the look of absolute disgust plastered on Celia's face.

Right when all of that was going down, Celia's guy pushed open the doors; I turned around. He threw a quick glance at me as I was being swarmed by the Bimbos, then met up with Celia who walked away, shaking her head. It felt like everything was conspiring against me getting her back.

From her side of the fence, I must have looked like an ass; I high-key felt like one. When I was able to ward the Bimbos off, she was gone. That night, I couldn't sleep, thinking about everything I'd messed up. I finally threw the covers off and went downstairs.

After grabbing some Munchies, I turned on the desktop and fired up Minecraft. Only, instead of actually playing, I used Spectator Mode to wander around Celia's overworld. She'd built a perfect replica of Château de Chenonceau in France. It was her dream to visit the place in real life.

The beauty of Spectator Mode was that I could explore every inch of Celia's world without leaving a trace. And even if she was playing, my character would just be invisible to her. My stomach started tightening when I realised that was probably the perfect analogy for what my future with Celia would be like.

The next day, Connor dropped by in the afternoon and picked me up for a drive. We did our usual thing, drove around, got Blizzards from DQ for a snack and just chilled. He told me to forget the game, and I explained what happened after I left the locker room. And for one rare moment, Connor was speechless.

I could tell he wanted to say something to make me feel better. But all he said was, "That's just crap luck, bro." For a while, we sat there motionless with beats blasting from the speakers. Both of us were deep in thought and reflection.

Eventually, Connor spoke up. "It's all on the letters now," he sighed. "That'll bring her back."

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound convincing. But the sinking feeling in my gut was telling me something else. It was saying that I'd missed two shots at Homecoming: one on the court and the one with Celia.

On Monday, I found my lucky sleeve in my locker. The funny thing was, I didn't remember putting in there, but I must have, otherwise, how'd it get there? All I could do was groan and roll my eyes at not remembering to check that particular location before the game. I slammed the door feeling straight-up stupid.

By Wednesday the following week, that gut feeling was starting to feel like a prophecy. My letter drought was reaching a peak high, and the news from Rachel made matters worse. Apparently, the guy Celia was with at the game was a freshman at Dalhousie University in Halifax. They met through one of Celia's cousins who was also at Dal.

I couldn't believe my whole senior year was going to be defined by one night. Connor, being the bro he was, did his best to keep me from going full emo. But at that point, the only things that resonated with me were my black hoodie and The Reason by Hoobastank. I briefly entertained eyeliner but decided against it; I was sad, not dejected...at least not yet.

***

The following week, I was full-on embracing my Boulevard of Broken Dreams side. My black clothes were getting worn like they were going out of style. At school, I roamed the halls looking like a rain cloud was constantly floating over my head—hashtag frowny face. And my journal entries were getting pretty close to starting a band in the garage.

That's why when Connor came over on Thursday saying he had a letter for Romeo from Celia, I thought I was dreaming. I was like, is this the next step in my emo evolution? Alternate reality? But Connor opened the envelope and put the paper in my hands.

As I started reading, the cloud over my head evaporated, and a light from Heaven shone through my window.

Dear Romeo,

I'm sorry for taking so long to get back to you. Things in my life have been insane lately. For one thing, my ex has turned out to be the jerk I always knew he was. But you already know all about him. And I don't want to bog this letter down with examples of him living up to his reputation.

This is about us.

My heart started doing laps at that line; there was an us. 

It's difficult to put into words how much your letters have meant to me, but I'll try. Your beautiful words seemed to have shown up when most other lights around me had gone out. For once, I felt like I was living a love story instead of just reading about one.

They made me feel like a princess in a castle waiting for the verses of the man I wanted to be with but who I was forbidden to love. And Rachel was like my lady in waiting, risking her position at court just so I could fall asleep with Romeo's letters covering my heart.

Few things were more romantic than waking up in the middle of the night to reread your enchanting letters. You might think I'm weird for doing this, but once, I went outside when the moon was shimmering like it was covered by thousands of stars. I read your letter out loud hoping that your words had the power to call you to my side.

I waited for an hour, listening to the breeze brushing the leaves in the trees. The air smelled like bonfires, but I imagined it was the smell of the torch you were carrying as you braved the mobs of the dark night to come to my aid.

You were there, just not in a form that could hold me.

I pressed the love-laced pages to my chest and whispered to the wind, "If hearts can be owned, I want you to have mine, dear Romeo."

What I'm about to ask might come across as sudden, but I want to see you. I want to hear your voice and lose myself in your arms. And if that wasn't clear enough, Romeo, I want to go on a date with you. I don't care how—I'll leave the details up to you. Just please, say yes.

Hoping to see you soon.

Sincerely yours,

Rosaline