one shots

colors [1/4]

Half of our time in class was supposed to be spent learning while the other half was supposed to be spent applying our knowledge. However, half of my time was spent trying to find the right words to say to you, and the other half was spent trying to execute a conversation without it turning awkward.

Most of the time, I failed in avoiding awkward situations, but all of the time, my quirks made you smile. Although my quirks made you smile, they did nothing to advance our newfound friendship into anything more. You were actually the one that asked me out, and I remember thanking God that you took initiative.

I'd been dying to ask you to go on a date with me and killing myself softly every time I talked myself out of an opportunity to do so. . . and you sensed that. You were always good at reading people.

We went to prom together. We wore all black (although your corsage and my boutonnière consisted of white roses) and left after spending only an hour and a half at the venue that the event was hosted at. Instead, we went to go get some burgers and lingered in the parking lot to eat and talk. I barely ate, too concerned with the butterflies that were filling my stomach whenever we found ourselves just gazing into each other's eyes.

I'd never laughed as hard as I did when I was with you. We must've come up with a million inside jokes that night. We must've talked about a million more things that night including our plans after high school.

You were going to art school. I was going to California. I was set on no longer playing football, and I was debating on taking a gap year. Both of these decisions had yet to be presented to my parents, and I feared telling them. You reminded me that it's my life, and it's time to start living my life for myself.

I figured that you were right. You always were, but that didn't keep me from withholding my tongue from them in regards to the issue.

You looked so pretty that night— I must've told you that a thousand times, but every time I said it, you'd blush. It never failed. Once we finished our fast food meal, we rode around until our curfews grew close.

I took you home, part of me saddened because I didn't want the night to end yet. You suggested that I stop by tomorrow so we could go see a movie. It wasn't even an option to decline the proposition, a smile sliding onto my face at the thought of another date with you. You kissed my cheek and wished me good night before going into your home.

From that moment on, I was enthralled in you.

There wasn't a night that I didn't stay up because you flooded my thoughts. There wasn't a time that I never wanted to play in your hair while your head rested on me. There wasn't a time that I visited your home and your parents didn't welcome me with open arms— even your cat, Snow, loved me. . . and I loved you all just the same.

There wasn't a moment that I regretted being with you. . .
until I met your friends.

On the surface they were cool people— just oblivious. they were insensitive, especially when it came to matters of race. It was crazy how a topic that was oftentimes tip-toed around was talked about so frivolously.

Your friend group took pride in things like that though— talking about the taboo as if it were as casual as the weather. I didn't mind, initially. I'd never had people outside of my own friends to talk to about things like sex and politics. Even when I was placed in those conversations with your friends, I refrained from saying much.

You knew how shy I was, and I hated voicing my opinion for fear of ruffling feathers. And every time they'd pressure me into doing so, they'd either talk down on me like I was stupid or shift the air of the conversation into awkward territory.