Complicated

Chapter 12

As we reach our class, we're tired as hell, not caring a tad bit about how we're sweating so much and how we're laughing so hard at each other that we're receiving a bunch of jealousy-ridden stares. We enter the room, relieved that the teacher isn't there yet. Tom runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, and my heart beats faster and faster.

We seat next to each other, as we always do, and he gives me a warm smile. A thought pops into my head: 'This is the perfect time to ask him out on a "friendly" date'. i think of a few persuading words: 'Hey Tom, let's go out on a date! (NO) 'Hey Tom, why don't we hang out to catch on our lives?' (It makes it sound like we haven't seen each other for months.) 'Why don't we hang out after school?' (Too casual). And I notice that I over think too much, and they say that over-thinking can ruin opportunities and happiness. So I just went for it, headfirst slide into asking the question.

"Hey Tom, wanna go out for, say, ice cream, later?" I ask, my lips quivering from the nervousness brewing inside me. "Ice cream?" he said, his curiosity lifting the last syllable. "Yeah." I answer, still nervous of his reply. "Awesome. Sure. What for?" he asks. Sometimes, I get irritated because of Tom's curiosity.  "For nonsense." I answer. Short responses yet an ample amount of nervousness for the reply. "Cool. I'll treat you for a change" he says, smiling since he thinks what he said is funny. "Oh really, now?" I mockingly ask with a smirk on a my face. "I have more money in my pockets than you, dear." he says, now sinisterly grinning. "Prove it. Scared, Faulkner?" I challenge, his face growing redder by the moment. "What's in it for me?" he, again, fights for victory. Yet being a woman, I have to win at these conversations. Tension is growing bigger and bigger between us. "Things." I say with a wink. God, he's redder than a tomato. "Is that so, then. Make me." he snaps back. "Wanna bet?" I say, with a challenging tone. "I shall, if you do." he says. "Giving up, I see. We'll continue this later." I tell him, bidding his comeback goodbye. I notice how this conversation of ours has become a simple invite to a tension full one. I never thought I'd intimidate him as much as I did a moment ago.

Tom keeps his eye on me like a menacing crow, unsure of the reason he does. He must think of me differently after the odd conversation we had a while ago. I shoot a few glares of my own, hoping that he'd stop. And he didn't. And my face grew hot. And weird. I couldn't move a muscle. He did does stares as if he has done it for a very long time, and it irritated me so much that I just want to hit him in the face with a chair. Sometimes I hate him, sometimes I love him. But that's just the way love goes, right? As if you're on a rollercoaster, full of up and downs until you realize that you're just doing the same thing all over and over again. Then you just stop at the right moment, at the right person. In my case, I think he's the right stop, at the right moment.

At long last, the bell rings signalling we can have a break for lunch. I march toward him at his locker, huffing and puffing air in and our of my nose that it starts to swell. "Thomas Peter W. Faulkner. You have a lot of things to explain to me." I shout right off, dragging his elbow to the direction of the janitor's closet. All the girls stare at me, including Jenny, and I smile, because this is the right moment to transform her into a green eyed monster. "What? What did I do to you?!" he asks, obviously surprised by what I said. "You don't know?! SERIOUSLY TOM?!" I tell him. Jenny, completely flustered, forms a weird look on her face. "Nope, not a single clue, Ave." he tells me, as clueless and as cute as ever. I drag him by the elbow to the janitor's closet, forming what to say after.

"Okay Ave, what the heck was that?" he asks curiously. "YOU'RE angry? Gosh Tom, I cannot believe this. What's up with those weird looks you gave me in the past classes we had together?" I ask him placidly. "Oh those." he says with a wink. "Stop it." I tell him. "Stop what, hm?" he asks, as he leans in closer, his hand on the wall. "Stop it. Just stop whatever idiocy you're propagating at this moment, Mr. Faulkner." I tell him. "Make me." he says, my lips quiver to find an answer. "Just stop it ,Tom." I shout. "Stop what? Tell me, and I'll stop." he says, or better yet, challenges. "STOP BEING SO INTIMIDATING! STOP ACTING SO..... PROVOCATIVE!" I say, the heat rushing off my face. "Is it really the right word to use?" he asks enticingly. "Fine. Stop being so... sooooo...." I struggle to find the right word. "So?" he continues to pull of this alluring tone in his voice." SO SEDUCTIVE. Fine. GET IT?!" I blurt out to his face, a satisfied smile forming in his lips. "What's with that grin?!" I say as I wipe it off his face. "Oh, nothing Ave. I just wondered what it would feel like if you feel as weird as this." he answers. "YOU DID ALL OF THAT FOR SUCH A SMALL THING TO WORRY ABOUT?!" I almost scream at his reason. "Aaaaaaaand also, it was for revenge for a while ago. Damn, I really thought I could beat a girl in an argument like that." he says. "You won't. Us women are equipped for these situations." I tell him. "Oh really now?" he says with a mile. I sigh again, as his smile makes me forgive him. "Yeah. End of discussion. Ice cream later?" I ask, hoping that he didn't forget. "Yeah. Sure. I'll treat you." he answers. We exit the closet, and for once, there wasn't a bunch of girls staring at us. For the first time in forever, kismet is in my hands.

A series of fortunate events take place before dismissal. Jenny is nowhere to be found, probably crying her heart out because she assumes too much. She attends the last class, and her eyes were bloodshot, proving what I hypothesized. She stares at the floor, releasing occasional sobs when the teacher's gone. Every sob is a dewdrop of happiness in my cold and selfish heart.

And finally, the time comes. I slip out of my chair as a happy as a flower can be, skipping to Tom's locker. Oh, I'm in ecstasy, and the drug that caused it is called "Love". But this drug is dangerous, as it can break your heart into a million pieces. But sometimes, there's a type of the love drug that is medicinal, for it can mend your heart with stitches from a whole new relationship with someone. And I have taken in the drug, letting the odds be ever in my favor, hoping and wishing that I didn't take the wrong kind of the drug.

I turn to the corner to where Tom's locker is, and I realize that I was wrong. The odds were never in my favor. As a teardrop slips on my cheeks, I see Tom, touching the cheek of an ideal looking girl, and I could just read the words escaping his mouth: 'I love you.'