My senior year in high school I was still a loser. I had never elevated myself past the awkward phase that almost all freshmen go through. Oh, I had friends. I did stuff on the weekends, and went to parties. But I always felt shy and uneasy around people. They all seemed so cool, and I never was. I was always the guy sitting in the corner at the party while everyone else was enjoying themselves.
With my awkwardness came horrible luck with dating. The only thing girls seemed interested in me for was as a shoulder to cry on. Throughout high school I was the nice guy, the one that chicks would come to complain to when their dumb jock boyfriends dumped them. Entering my senior year I was still a virgin, horny and frustrated.
Being the nice guy was a minor a annoyance to me. It never seemed to hurt anything, so I just went with it. That is, it always was, until Jessica came along. She tried my patience more than I can remember, hanging off my shoulder, sitting on my lap, calling me up to complain about whoever had done her wrong. The worst part is that I soon was madly, dangerously in love with her.
I first met her when she was dating some dick of a punk rocker. She was a nice girl who always ended up in horrible relationships. In my memories she wasn't particularly beautiful, but she had that sort of realistic, womanly look about her that drives some guys(like me) crazy. She was short, probably 5'2" or somewhere around there, and had killer curves. She had nice, thick but not fat thighs and a plump, tight little ass that looked good no matter what it was covered with. Her torso was slim, and she had the two most perfect little breasts I've ever seen to this day. They weren't all that big, maybe a B or small C cup, but the shape was heavenly. Not saggy at all, they were perfect, perky little mounds. Her face was cute, all her features small and youthful, surrounded by plain black shoulder length hair.
I met midway through high school, when we were nothing but naive young kids. I was sitting alone in the corner of my English class on the first day of my Junior year. I didn't know anybody in the class, my summer sucked, and I was depressed. She came over and sat with me and started talking like we knew each other. We were rebels, like all high school kids are at some point, rebels with nothing to rebel against. I was thrilled to have made a new friend that enjoyed complaining about "the system" as much as I did, better yet a girl. We shared some friends, and eventually ended up seeing each other from time to time on weekends.
I don't know when it happened, but slowly as the time passed, our relationship got strange. I eventually learned about the guy she was dating. I knew he was an asshole, someone I'd never talk to. She had a love-hate relationship with him. In the love phase they were constantly together, and she never talked to me. In the hate phase I was her shoulder to cry on. Whenever he wasn't around, she'd sit on my lap or lean on my shoulder, complain about what an asshole her boyfriend was. I didn't know what to do. I was used to being the nice guy, but this was beyond my tolerance level.
Around the same time I became nothing but a warm body to cry to, I fell madly in love with her. This made the situation all the more awkward. As she complained to me and cried on my shoulder, all I wanted to do with all my might was to grab her back, kiss her, and love her freely.
But such was not meant to be. She eventually dumped that first boyfriend, but always skipped around guys so fast I never had time to get my nerve up to ask her out. I was obsessed. I thought about her for hours at night, fantasized about her, thought of all the things I should say, and all the things I would say once we were in love.
As the time passed, and our senior year approached, I felt my time running out. We were both 18 now, so close to going into the real world. If I didn't make my move soon, I would never know, and always be left wondering what if.
One event stands out in my mind as the beginning of the end. I was at a party with some people I vaguely knew. It was late in the summer before my senior year. Everyone around me was dumb, drunk, and happy, and I was just awkward and pissed off. I spotted Jessica across the room, sitting bored and alone, the guy of the moment rip-roaring drunk somewhere else. I walked over, asked if she'd like to get some fresh air with me. It was a warm August night, and the stars shone clearly as we strolled down the street. She stared up at the stars, but in the darkness all my attention was fixed on her. I wanted to tell her everything, confess my love, kiss her, hug her. I looked up at the stars. What the hell, I thought. I was too mixed up to say anything, so I just inched closer to her and slowly put my arm around her shoulder. She didn't say anything, just gently brushed my arm off and looked away, distancing herself from me. From this moment on I came to the realization that we were destined to be nothing but friends, I was never to be anything more than a shoulder to cry on, and for the first time it really pissed me off.
Fast forward to the school year. One February night I was sitting up late, alone. I wasn't supposed to be alone. I had tried to ask a girl to the semi-formal that was taking place that very night, but faced rejection, and didn't take it well. At the worst possible time the phone rings, and I answer it. It's none other than Jessica, sobbing into the receiver about being stuck and about "some asshole." I knew she had been ditched at the dance, and dutifully grabbed the keys to my truck and headed outside.
I pulled up to the school. Jess jumped up off the curb into the truck, sniffling and pouting. Something happened inside my mind that moment. The anger inside of me, the sting of rejection still fresh,and now someone crying to me-- it was more than I could take. Tonight was going to be different. I wasn't just going to be a shoulder to cry on, and I wasn't going to accept rejection.
It started innocently enough. I put my arm on her back to comfort her, hoping in my mind that in her time of need she'd take me as more than a friend. I took the long way to her house and tried to comfort her as we drove. But when she started saying how her boyfriend was "really a nice guy," and that "they'd get through this," I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled the car over in a dirt pull-off on the side of the road and parked it. It was a dark night. It was late, and there was no sounds but those of the night. There wasn't another soul around for 20 miles.
"Will you open your fucking eyes?" I yelled, surprising her with my sudden anger. "You're always going out with these assholes and ignoring what you have right in front of you."
