The Why Behind What We Feel

Chapter 13- The Sparks

I have no idea how long I've been sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at the peach colored wall in front of me. Minutes? Hours? Is it tomorrow already?

Why do I feel this way?

I'm a psychology student, so the why behind what I feel has always been what's most important to me. Until I can figure out why something bothers me, there's no point in trying to fix it. Aspen has said and done things that's made me question his feelings for me, but he's never crossed the line. We've danced all over the line, but it still remains to be crossed.

Or does it?

Was that ever even a possibility? And if it was, would I even want that?

If I think logically about all this, I know Aspen and I could never be in a relationship. I'm moving away soon and I'm not oblivious to the fact that he's way too good looking for me. He wants someone like the perfect blonde Barbie he was talking to earlier, not some homely looking gal like myself. And I'm okay with that.

Am I okay with that?

No. I'm not. Because logical or not, I have feelings for him. He's so open and real. He doesn't care what other people think. He's fun, he's carefree, he's honest, he's everything I've ever wanted out of a potential partner.

Except he's full of secrets. He's told me some of them, but I know there's more. There's probably far more than what he's told me. Can I afford to be involved with someone like that?

Even if none of that mattered, I've obviously read into this situation the wrong way. We're just friends. We've always been just friends and that's all we're ever going to be.

I take a deep breath and pull myself up off the floor. I check my reflection in the mirror, giving myself an internal pep talk.

I'm going back out there.

I'm enjoying this night with my friends.

I won't let anyone or anything get in the way of that tonight.

I open the door to leave and I startle when I see the same blonde girl I saw with Aspen earlier standing right in front of me.

"Oh, sorry!" she grimaces. "I swear I was about to knock."

"It's okay," I smile. "I'm done now."

"I really like that dress," she says, walking past me and into the bathroom. "Yellow is a really good color for you."

"Thank you," I reply, taken back by her flattery.

She turns to me and smiles, but then her eyes move down to my bare feet and her smile quickly fades. "So you're the girlfriend," she whispers under her breath.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, wondering if I heard her right.

"Aspen is holding your shoes. You must be his girlfriend," she says kind of bitterly.

"You think just because a guy holds a girl's shoes they're automatically in a relationship?" I scoff humorously.

She crosses her long, thin arms over her chest, her blue eyes narrowing into slits. "That and the fact that he said he had a girlfriend."

"He said that?" I ask, cocking a brow.

"Don't play dumb. Aspen is hot. You should be proud," she says, again, with a bitter undertone to her words.

I open my mouth to respond, but I don't even know what to say. Did Aspen tell her I was his girlfriend? Is he using me as a scapegoat? I mean, I could care less if he is, but he could at least give me a heads up first.