literature

Of a Chance

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Literature Text

He was her first love. She'd fallen for him because he fascinated her. She was good at getting inside people's heads, knowing their motives, reading their thoughts. She ran deep but they saw her as shallow; he ran deep and yet was still. He was her conundrum.

It started with a snow-day.

They were rare in her part of the country. It snowed so often that everyone was immune. But this was a storm big enough to stop school. She and her neighbor, Iza, attempted to build a snow fort. When it failed, they went in search of Iza's brother, Asher. There were five of them then—for two straight days they worked building a fort with no purpose. No one cared. They became a gang of five.

Something struck her.

It started as curiosity. She would spend time with Iza because Asher and his friend Sam were on good terms with her mystery boy. They hung out. Her feelings grew.

Months passed.

It was agonizing, waiting and hoping and hanging on clues. Did he even give two clicks for her? She heard from Sam that he thought she looked sexy in blue; she adjusted her wardrobe to blues and greens and grays. She changed how she wore her make-up, adding blue around her eyes. She heard he liked those too.

Time went on.

She was an emotional wreck. She didn't dare talk to him about her feelings. Day after day she went over to Iza's, and they would cooperatively "drag the guys outside." Hours and hours were spent at the swing-set at the end of the neighborhood, lounging around under the tree, doing nothing.

The flirting started.

It became a game of back and forth, of well-meant deception and carefully planned moves. She would not tell anyone but Iza that her curiosity had bloomed into something bigger. Sam and Asher would not reveal if he felt anything for her at all.

She began plotting.

If she could do something a certain way, she could gauge his reaction. She could know with a bit more certainty if he was worth pursuing. Sam caught on, and he and Iza tried to collaborate to nudge the two of them together. They would be a perfect suburban-teen-esque couple.

Summer came.

It was six months after she had told Iza her real feelings for him, but only two since he really knew about it. They were together. He had done it in such a perfectly him way, discreet and casual. She had been waiting for him to do the asking. That—she insisted daily to Iza, even at her emotional lowest—was his job. He had done it now. The small gang of five dissolved, almost as if its purpose had disappeared; perhaps it had.

Time sped up.

Months of perfect happiness came for her, and nothing could go wrong. He was still her riddle, she was still his challenge. They clicked... but sometimes there was a sense that something was a little off. Iza pointed it out; she ignored her friend's comments.

He broke it off after ten long months.

She was devastated, and couldn't accept it. He was meant for her; she belonged to him. What had happened? What made him do it? Texts and IMs led nowhere, and she got no good answer from him. She talked to him, saying they were meant for each other, couldn't he see it? Please, give it one more chance!

He relented.
He broke it off
She begged, she pleaded.
He agreed.
He splintered it to pieces.
She cried, needed and explanation.
He gave none.

Now they were both in high school, those dreaded years of hormones and teens. She needed him. He couldn't stop looking at her. She wouldn't leave him be; they needed to stay friends, she said, or they would be nothing.  He kept brushing her off... but she saw him staring. There was something there, right?

She was broken.

What had happened? She needed him, he wanted her. She could tell. She would not accept "no." She defended herself to Iza through her anguished tears: There will always be a chance. Yes, said Iza, but how much of one? Enough, she said, even if it's just a one-night stand.

A year passed.

He moved on; she did not, always clinging to the abandoned wreckage of what had been, trying to bring the gang of five back together even. The girl he dated was older—a year above him, two years above her. They were a steady couple.

It was prom night.

He was an upperclassman; Iza had bought her a ticket. Iza danced with her own girlfriend, he danced with his. She was mostly alone, standing on the sidelines, still seeing in her head the dream of dancing with him.

Suddenly, chaos.

His date walked off and took the arm of someone else. They kissed and left together. Mass commotion on the dance floor. It surfaced: the girl had been cheating on him. She knew this was her chance. She went up to him, and he didn't ignore her.

The danced and danced.

The night ended, He invited her to come back with him; he had reserved a hotel room for the night. They could talk, catch up, re-live old times. She agreed. Any time with him was time well spent. They departed, he drove. They talked, reminiscing.

Things escalated.

Soon enough his shirt was off and the straps of her dress were low on her shoulders. This was it, what she'd wanted all these years. She was his again, his challenge which he faced, now, head on. He was her always-changing riddle. This was how it was supposed to be.

It happened.

She knew it would. It was only fitting that he was her first. It was more than she ever imagined, even when she'd lain awake at night, clinging to the fading memories of his touch.

He called a name.

It wasn't hers. She ignored it, it wasn't important. In his heart, she told herself, he knows it's me. It was always going to be me. It peaked; they slept.

She awoke.

It was morning. She was alone. She wore his shirt, but he was gone. No note, no message on her phone. Only and empty side of a hotel-room bed and the lingering scent of his cologne. She had held onto the hope for so long, so hard. It had been her reason to wake up in the morning. Now it was gone. She tasted tears and the softness of his lips as the last of her world fell away from her. This had been her chance, the one-night stand. What was left? Everything was broken. It was over.

She was over.
Written for my friend Ana. I apologize to her for my pessimistic view of her love-life... it's just the kind of person I am. The picture is from her myspace... I kind of took it xD I might take it off if she asks me to.

I know I said I wouldn't be submitting for a while, but my vampires are kind of on hold--my primary editor/illustrator has my stuff, and her mother just had a baby. So Ren's a half-sister and hasn't been in school. ^^;

Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated on this, by the way.
© 2008 - 2024 xxcrashgirlxx
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SandstarThundercat's avatar
Oh, I went on a tangent. Sorry. I was totally surprised by how you wrote it though. If I hadn't been so in on this I wouldn't have known what actually happened and what didn't. Aside from the one night stand thing. Which actually is kinda believable since it's Ana. But still.