Not all Blondes do Backflips

22 - You Like Me Too Much

Paul's smile only lasted a second. “I don't want to leave you –”

I stood up and pointed to the bleachers. “I'm going to eat my weight in pretzels and hope that someone spiked the punch,” I half-joked. “You go and have a great time with her and come find me when it's time to go home, okay?”

I walked away, not giving him a chance to protest, and made a quick stop at the snack table. Once I was armed with enough half-edible pretzels and too-sweet fruit punch to occupy me for most of the night, I made my way to the topmost row of the bleachers.

I was eating stale pretzels and drinking sugary punch.

Alone.

In a dark corner of a school gym.

If I had a Kleenex box next to me and mascara tears running down my face, I would be the poster child for pathetic and sad.

But realizing that wasn't what made me put down the pretzel I was about to put in my mouth.

What stopped me was that I didn't feel anything.

I didn't feel like laughing my αss off at how much of a wuss I was being. I didn't even have the desire to silently mock the people around me for making such a big deal about one lame high school dance. For crying out loud, I didn't even feel mad and anger had always been my constant companion in life.

I didn't feel a single fυcking thing.

That was the bucket of cold water that shook me to the core.

This was worse than what Jessie or my brothers had thought.

I wasn't just losing the fire in my eyes.

I was losing my … soul.

And while it may be easier for you to think that I wasn't born with one, I actually do have a soul – or had one, if it wasn't lost just yet.

“Mind if I join you?”

The words were almost drowned out by the music from the dance and while I heard them, I didn't bother looking up. Chances were, they weren't even for me to hear. It wasn't like I was the only kid hanging out on the bleachers.

“Mind if I join you?”

The words were a lot louder this time – right in my ears loud – that I looked up to see what poor soul was desperate enough to want to sit next to one of the least popular people at Middle-of-Nowhere High.

The poor soul turned out to be none other than one of the most popular people at Middle-of-Nowhere High.

“Hey,” Finn smiled warmly. “Mind if I join you?” he asked for the third time.

One of my eyebrows went up of its own accord. “Does my answer really matter?”

“No,” Finn answered with a wide grin.

I sighed and looked at the space to my right. I picked up my cup of punch and the napkin I'd piled pretzels on and nodded at him to take a seat.

He acknowledged it all with a nod and sat down. Two songs started and ended before Finn spoke again. “So,” he hesitated, “you came to the dance.”

I turned and gave him a look of unhindered sarcasm.

“I mean, you obviously came to the dance.” Finn chuckled. “I'm just surprised that you did since you didn't want to come –”

“With you,” I finished before he could. “I said I didn't want to come with you – or wouldn't,” I said quickly when I noticed the flash of hurt in his eyes. “I just,” I sighed. “I didn't want to draw anymore attention to myself.”