A Girl Named Sweetie

10. The Realization

Jake's POV

If you wanna fuck her, just say so.

No, I don't want to "fuck her." I guess that I just... fuck, I want to get to know her. I want to know what's going through her mind. Most of all, I want to stop acting like such a pussy.

As I twist the padlock keeping my locker shut, I watch the white numbers painted carefully, flawlessly, onto the lock as they spin endlessly. Long fingernails eventually tap my shoulder, breaking my trance.

"Do you think we can talk?" a voice says from behind me, making something inside of me burn and melt.

When my eyes meet hers, my words suddenly fail me. I can't think of anything to say, I can't think of anything to think, so I just nod.

I shove my hands into my pockets as I follow her through the winding halls. She apologizes to people as I run into them, not looking back. I can't find it in me to roll my eyes as she smiles at every passing student.

"Let's go to the courtyard, okay?" she asks, continuing to walk until we reach the doors.

We cross the threshold into the crisp autumn air. Early October was the time that my mother always loved. She said that the leaves were perfect, the weather was perfect, everything is just perfect, as long as it's the first of October through the tenth.

Leaves crunch under my sneakers as we make our way to the new memorial benches facing the old oak tree, Sweetie's skirt flaring out as she sits down. I follow suit, allowing for about two feet between the two of us.

"I just wanted to say that I'll be out of your way from now on. I-I've caused so much drama between you and Doug," at this, I almost punch the nearest wall, but she continues, "and you two are practically the best of friends! Gosh, I just felt so freaking bad about - well, you know. Yesterday. So I'll just finish up the project on my own..."

I don't hear the rest of what she says. How can I? God, it's like I want to absorb everything she says, and have no distractions at the same time - just so that I can look at her. I don't see how it's possible for anyone to hear her when all I see is her soft lips, a smile playing endlessly on them; her eyes, always sparkling and framed with thick black eyelashes; even her nose, slightly upturned and placed in the middle of her constantly blushing cheeks.

Snap out of it.

"So, yeah. I'll get that project done and send it to you by Monday. Is that alright?"

I shake my head, and muster up the strength to speak for the first time since she approached me today.

"Maybe... uh... just come to my house tonight. We can get it all done. All-nighter, right?" I laugh dryly in order to finish off the world's most awkward attempt to lighten a mood as her eyes narrow with skepticism.

"Jake, not to be rude - seriously, tell me if I'm overstepping, please - but a few days ago you wanted nothing to do with me," she points out, her gaze practically drilling holes into my head without her even trying.

Why did I ever make her feel like that? More importantly, when the fuck did I become
such a girl?

"Do whatever you want."

Even more importantly, how do I always manage to hurt her feelings - and feel bad about it?

"O-okay. I'll just... uh... yeah," she stutters, all but crying right here on the lawn.

Fuck, I have to fix this. Right? Yeah, this seems like the kind of thing that needs fixing.

"Just come over tonight," I finally say, looking anywhere but in her direction. The last thing I need to see right now is her psychoanalysis face. God, it's my least favorite expression of hers, and that's saying a lot considering I don't really mind looking at her.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see that hint of a smile become just a bit bigger, her eyes squinting at the corners.

Okay, maybe not my peripheral vision. Maybe I'm sneaking a glance. Sue me.

"I knew you didn't hate me!" she exclaims triumphantly, bashfully apologizing after nearly hitting another student.

I watch with a lazy smile on my face as she rambles on and on about how she's so happy we're friends now, some chick named Lily, why pasteurized milk may be bad for the environment, and a million other things until a single realization hits me like a brick.

I think I'm in love with Sweetie May.