The beginning of junior year, things started changing. We started fighting more and more, mostly about silly little things. It wasn't that we hadn't fought before, but these fights were different. I would claim that you weren't making time for me and you would last back saying it was the other way around. Most nights I went to bed with tears in my eyes. Those were the times when you would show up at my house the next morning saying you were sorry.
It was a Tuesday in October when the pressure finally brought us tumbling down. You showed up to second period late, something I'd never known you to do, with a black eye. I tried to ask you what happened but you ignored me. For the whole day you wouldn't even look at me. People asked me what was wrong but all I could tell them was that I didn't know. As the last bell of the day rang through the halls, I caught you at your locker. "Andy, what happened?" I held my books to my chest and stared down at my feet, knowing that if I looked at your face I wouldn't be able to stop the tears that were quickly forming.
"I think we should break up," was all you said. No reason why. No explanation of what was wrong. My head shot up but your eyes wouldn't meet mine. You slammed your locker and walked away, leaving me alone in the hallway.
"Andy." I called after you but you kept walking down the long, white hallway and out the door. I ran home, locking myself in my room. My pillow was soaked with tears by the time Mom got home from work. She called up to me but I couldn't face her. Eventually, she got me out of my room and I told her what happened.
To say I was a mess at school the next day would be an understatement. My brown hair was sitting on top of my head in a messy bun while yesterday's makeup clung to my face. Friends gathered around me whenever you were near but they couldn't hide me away from the pain that was eating me inside. Once they realized there was no use in trying to get me to talk, they all left me alone to bask in my misery. We didn't speak a word to each other. You stayed cheery with your baseball friends while I became the girl that sat in the back of class with their head down.
Three months later, I ran into you while jogging through the neighborhood. You were running with music blasting in your ears. I saw you first, hoping you wouldn't see me, but you did. You pulled an earbud out, "Hey."
"Hi." My voice cracked. I shallowed and tried again. "Hi." You looked down at your feet while rocking back and forth.
You signed, "Charlie, I'm sorry. I know what I did was..."
I put my hand up. "Save it. It doesn't matter anymore." I fought back the lump in my throat.
"It does matter. I hurt you. I left when I said I never would."
"Andy I can't do this right now. I have to get home." I pushed passed you and ran down the block to my house.
Mom sat with me that night after finding me crying, holding a picture of us. "It's hard to forget your first love. I know sweetie. But you will get through this. I promise." "I want him back. When we were talking today, all I wanted to do was hug him. Its not fair." I cried into her chest.
"No its not fair. And I wish I could take all this pain away from you. But the only way I know is for you to go tell him how you feel and hope for the best." I looked up at her with tear red eyes. She petted my hair, smoothing it down.
"Do you really think that will work?"
"He'd be stupid not take you back." I hugged her then ran out the door to the dollar store down the street, hoping that even after seven months you still wanted me as much as I wanted you.
The next morning was Saturday and I knew you had a game. I headed out early and stood outside your house with the sign. You walked outside but didn't notice me at first. When you did you froze, reading my sign. "Second chance?" I started crying when you dropped your bag and ran towards me, pulling me into your arms. "I love you Charlie. I love you so much. I'm so sorry." You kept chanting. I cried into you, unable to say anything. You pulled back a little and lifted my face towards you. Our lips met along with tears and love.
Later that night, with your mom at work and Steve finally gone from your lives, we sat on your bed talking. You traced circles on the back of my hand while you explained why you broke up with me, "Steve was drunk when I got home from your house. He started going after me about being out so late with you and that we shouldn't be screwing around," you let out a dark chuckle, "well we got into it. He hit me and told me he was going to come after you." Your head hung low, eyes focused on your thumb tracing my hand. "I thought I was protecting you by breaking up with you. I just..." I cut you off with a kiss.
"Andrew Streaks I love you so much." You brushed away a lose tear off my face before pressing our lips together again.
It was our senior year, and I couldn't believe it. Of course, you asked me to homecoming with a sign, which you had done every year, minus the year we broke up, just in a different place. Once it was in the lunch room and another one at our school's football game. That year, you got creative. You got the baseball team, which you were caption of. All of you stood outside my house, each with a different letter to spell out homecoming. You stood in front with a dozen roses in faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt. When I came out, Mom behind me taking pictures and video, you handed me the flowers then kissed me.
