The Love (Dis)connection

Chapter 1

But he’s not your typical dorky-looking genius either. He’s tall, maybe about 5’8, a bit on the too thin side, with hair messed up all over the place. He was not a heartthrob, but I’ve heard one or two girls around campus call him cute at least once. Personally, Jack, with his slightly bulge of muscles, a lock of hair frequently falling over his eyes, and easy smile, was more my type.

Dante nodded slowly. “I was. I was on my way there but I saw you sitting here all alone, thought you could use some company.”

I gestured to Jack. “I’m waiting for him to finish playing, he’s driving me home.”

“Like you couldn’t commute on your own,” Dante scoffed.

I punched him lightly on the arm. “Hey! You’re one of the few people I have admitted to liking Jack, so quit teasing me already.”

“Liking, I suspect, is too mild a word for what you truly feel for him,” he whispered.

Yeah, well. “Ehhh.”

He brushed his hand against the stubble on his chin, as if thinking about some grave matter. “You’ve been in love with him for about, what, one year? Why haven’t you told him? He’s single, anyway.”

I pulled up my legs close to my chest and watched as Jack successfully made a three-point shot. “We’re best friends. What if he doesn’t like me that way, and he turns me down, or he dates me out of politeness, then our relationship turns sour, and we’ll never be best friends again?”

“How could anyone not love you back?”

I felt my temper rise at such a teasing question, and turned to face Dante to tell him to lay off. But his serious expression caught me off-guard. He wasn’t serious, was he?

I mumbled something incoherent.

“Seriously, Aurelia. You’re easy on the eyes, you’re smart, and God knows you can hold intelligent conversations about things other than boys, makeup, and nail polish.”

If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was flirting with me. But everyone knew Dante was very concentrated on his studies to even think about dating. I’ve even wondered a time or two whether anyone could make his heart beat faster than normal, or be smart enough for his taste.

I cleared my throat. “Well, thank you, Dante. But I just…I just can’t.”

He got his bag, slinging one strap over his shoulder as he stood up. “Think about it. You’re too good of a girl to pine over someone this way. A year is a long time, Aurelia.” With a light tap on my shoulder, he was gone.

I had a lot of reasons why I never told Jack about my feelings. We being best friends was the only excuse I could say that will not make me sound like a pathetic loser. There’s also the thought that I wasn’t good enough for him. Or that I will find out that my looks were not to his type. Or that I wasn’t sure I could handle the emotional pain of being rejected by him. And that I’ll miss our easy friendship, most of all.

I’ve always wanted to have a male best friend. Through the years, I have come to realize that the perspective provided by males can be quite different—more logical, less emotional, and they shed an entirely different view on certain matters.

Also, none of my female friends shared my love for gadgets. It was very refreshing to be able to ask someone’s opinion of a certain laptop or other gadget, and get an answer other than, “oh, you should buy that one, it’s so pretty!” With Jack, and other male friends, I’ll find out if this tablet will lag, or whether this one can handle all the things I’ll store in it without it slowing down, or whether this one has more bang for the buck.

And not a lot of women shared my love for old rap and rock songs either. But males? Man, they have albums upon albums of music. And when you ask for a copy of even just one song, they burn the whole album of the musician or band for you.

And with Jack, I had moral support, emotional support, and all kinds of support. I’m sure I can call him at two in the morning to ask him to fetch me from God-knows-where, and without complaining about my whereabouts or that I’ve awoken him from some needed sleep, or have ruined his concentration on his late-night gaming, he’ll be there pronto. Much like the time my car broke down in C5 at three in the morning, and I didn’t want to call my parents because I shouldn’t have been driving there at such a late hour.

Not that I’m dissing females, because my girlfriends were great! With my girl pals, we danced in various clubs around the metro until the wee hours. They are sensitive, they understood my mood swings, and they can empathize. I can talk to them about the latest hairstyles, without getting the male-standard responses of: yes, you look good. No, you don’t look fat in that dress. With girls, you get that, “Oh you look so pretty in that black dress but it looks kind of tight in your waist area.” Or “Well, pink is usually your color, but your fat is showing on the side. Try a different style?” And I could shop with them for five or more hours with not one of us complaining.

And they were really great when Ken dumped me. “That bitch? She’s so ditsy! She’s nothing compared to you. You’re better off without such a perv!”

So my girlfriends are great, and my guy friends are great, too. But the friendship I have found with Jack…it’s just something awesome.