Him

A teenage girl has a crush on one of her best friends, but doesn't let anyone know

His slightly cold fingers fiercely tapped my right shoulder. I quickly turned around but no one was there. I tilted my head to the left only to find him walking away; he was laughing and a giant smile was taking up most of his face. This smile was the best type; it revealed dimples that reminded me of deep crevices perfectly carved into his face. He looked back at me; I saw his curly blonde hair covered in dried sweat and I laughed and shook my head. He always makes me think. We're good friends, but he doesn't know my true feelings for him. I love that he can make a joke out of anything, and every time those bright blue eyes stare into mine, I melt. He gives me haunting looks that make me think he might feel something for me, but some days he crushes all of my hopes and dreams I have for us. Maybe I’m crazy.
        A few weeks ago I gingerly stepped into a crowded room with a friend. He was there. As I walked through the doorway, our eyes met. His light blue irises danced with mine until I broke away to reply with an awestruck laugh at my friend's statement.  I longingly watched him as he raced out of the room and away from me.
     I'm ambling toward the dim yellow bus with two ditzy yet lovable friends. We set the bags in the underlying compartment and the swarm of teenage boys swept upon us. The long rectangular doors were wide open and a steady stream of guys was filtering on. Just as I was about to take the first step, he cut in front of me,
"Hey!"
"Oh, I'm sorry" he sarcastically responded
"You better be!'
With a grin on my face, I rushed to my seat up front and watched him maneuver his way back. As I sat down I started questioning all the things I’d been telling myself. The other day he acted like we were just friends. But that’s not the only time he had made me feel like we had no connection.

            ON another long, boring bus ride home, I had stretched myself out onto two blue pleather bus seats. We were getting closer to home and I wasn’t getting any sleep so I sat up and gazed at the guys in the back. What I saw instantly made me avert my gaze. They were shirtless. Almost all of them, except for a select few.

I texted him, “What the hell is happening back there?!”

He texted me back immediately “Don’t look back here!”

“Answer my question! Haha”

“And because it’s hot as hell! We had our pants off too but we cooled down enough”

            I glanced back once more and saw his shirtless body revealing perfectly tanned skin and a little bit of chubbiness.

            Instead of eating right after the game, the group decided on stopping at a gas station a few miles out of town. We arrived and our seasoned coach gave us his annual “be respectful” spiel. The whole bus stood up and allowed the lone senior off first; then came the juniors the sophomores, the freshman, and finally the three girls. He walked swiftly by me, but he had just enough time to snap his slender fingers in my ear. I felt butterflies growing in my stomach, but I quickly caught myself and tried to forget about it.

                        When I was younger I had crushes on actors that felt a lot like this. I even had a crush on a guy that I somewhat knew, but he answered my question with a no, and that was that. Then my school hired a new history teacher. Every single girl in that school flaunted over him, including yours truly. Some girls still adoringly throw themselves at him.

            He hands me his damp white warm-up. I tuck it underneath the wooden bleacher I’m sitting on. It reeked of coffee bean scentsy; we smelled it every game to check if it had lost its distinct scent. He told me the story of after it was washed how he hung it up to air dry next to the scentsy warmer and it just retained the scent for a few weeks.

I'm sitting on the hard yellow bleachers following every step of the game when he slaps the ball to prevent the other side from scoring. The orange sphere goes soaring and boumces its way to the ref. The boys sprint back down the court to finish the game. I feel a rush of air as they fly by; at the same time he points at me, smiling with a twinkle in his eye. "That goes down as a block in my stats!"  I just sat there, grinning and thinking about how much I love that boy.

            Every game he yells my name and throws me his warm-up to hold on to for him. I feel the warmth he left behind with it and I make sure nothing happens to it while I watch him sprint back and forth on the court. It never gets tiring.

           

 

 

 

Author's Note

Sorry for any typos