Like You Like Me ✔

17

When the sun came up on Monday, I hopped out of bed and got ready to face what was coming. Before heading through the front door, I threw on my headphones and listened to my hype, pre-game playlist. Mom and Dad dropped Lewis off, then me.

The minute I stepped out of the car, I could feel eyes on me, but I kept going forward. At some point, during everything that had happened, it occurred to me that my social status wasn't as important as my friends and relationships. And if I wasn't "cool" because I read and wrote stuff, then so be it.

Real people care about the person, not just an image.

I rolled up to the boys, who were looking chill, like normal. Connor threw me a fist bump, and I said: "What's up?"

To my surprise, the guys were cool. They commiserated with me about the videos and Celia; just like on the court, they had my back. And then, we started talking about NBA highlights from the previous night.

Just before the bell, we walked down the hallway, and I heard more chuckles and giggles than I usually did, but I took it on the chin. What hurt more was that Celia hadn't come to school. Thinking about her crying made me feel heavy. I found myself staring out the window at the rain falling from the grey sky, trying to figure out to make things right.

I mentally whispered, sorry, hoping she'd hear it somehow. Then it hit me, there was a way I could finally apologize to her and make it sound good. I'd need some speakers and backup dancers but knew some guys who might be willing to throw me an assist.

At lunch, I hit the guys with my apology plans, and they were down. After practice, we got started on the dance moves. The boys did an okay job of following along with the steps from the YouTube video. It didn't need to be perfect, a little uncoordinated was fine because it would make Celia laugh, which was also part of the plan. But the boys wanted to have the dance looking as tight as possible, so we practised some more.

The next day, Celia did make an appearance, but I kept my distance. The apology in song was going down that night, and I hoped the element of surprise would help make it feel more genuine.

Just before 7:30 PM, we pulled up in front of Celia's house and got Connor's speakers set in her front yard. Ten minutes later, the lights were in place. The guys hauled on their black hoodies, and I pulled on my white one.

Showtime.

We got into position, I gave the signal and Connor hit play on his laptop. I took a breath, and the opening bars to Sorry by Justin Bieber started blaring. I brought the mic up to my mouth and started lip-syncing for forgiveness.

By the time the chorus hit, we were all into it but, when Celia's parents opened the front door with their arms crossed, my heart jumped into my throat. For a moment the music was playing, and me and the boys were frozen. Eventually, somebody killed the beat.

I was about to walk over to offer an explanation when I heard giggling from the sidewalk and turned around. Celia was standing there with the guy from the game. I quickly said sorry to her parents, then walked over to where she was standing.

"Will you please hear me out for a second," I said, throwing up prayer hands.

"Okay," Celia nodded.

I turned to the guy. "Hey man, I just wanna let you know, this girl right here is a ten in all the categories. Take care of her; she deserves that and more."

"Dude," the guy put his hands up. "I'm her cousin and a monk."

"Oh," I said. "My bad."

"I'll give you two a minute," he nodded and walked towards the house and went inside with her parents.

I took a deep breath and continued, "I wanna apologize for being a cross between a jerk and an idiot. I'm sorry for everything I did and said. Not that it really matters now, but that night I said I didn't like you like you like me, I didn't mean it; I was wrong for doing that. I don't expect us to be friends, but I can't deal with you hating me. So can we be whatever the thing that's just below friends is?"

Celia tapped her finger on her lips. "That depends, would you be willing your performance from the top?"

"I'm down," I nodded. "One sec. Boys!" I turned and gave the guys a shout. "We're gonna do it again."

They got set up, and Celia took her place in the front row. She laughed and smiled throughout the entire song and dance. That was the positive note I was hoping to hit. At the end, we bowed, and I walked over to hear the verdict.

"So, can we be almost friends?" I asked.

She took a deep breath. "Can I be real with you?"

I didn't know where she was going, but I said, "Yeah, of course."

"You broke my heart that night—"

"I know," cut in. "And I'm sorry again for—"

"Let me finish, Kanye," she held up her hand and cracked a smile. "But what really hurt was that you didn't seem sorry, and you never bothered telling me you were until now. And you weren't real with me until the letters. You know how upsetting that is?"

I nodded and frowned at my stupidity.

There was an awkward silence before Celia continued:

"I don't know if I want to be almost friends with someone who can admit that he's wrong, learn from his mistakes and does a strangely decent job of lip syncing Justin Bieber just to say he's sorry."

I immediately started fighting back a smile. "What are you tryin' to say?"

"This," she stepped closer to me, grabbed my hoodie, and pulled me in close.

Our lips met, and I completely zoned out; sparks ran through me from head to toe. The distant sound of cheering brought me back down to Earth again. I opened my eyes to Celia's smile, and everything felt right.

"Was that clear enough for you?" she grinned.

"I don't know," I scratched my head. "I think I might need you to repeat that like six or seven more times before it really hits me."

Celia giggled as I went in for another kiss.

I was the butt of a lot of jokes at school for a while. But in the end, our love got the last laugh.