4.) Merry-Go-Round

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4.) Merry-Go-Round

One year later.

Sitting on the library floor beside Marilyn, I traced my fingers over the book-spines on the shelf, pretending to organize them. Library Aid: by far my favorite elective, thanks to Mar being the only other aid for the entire two hours—and extended book rentals. Hello Twilight Saga.

Senior year brought a lot of perks. I made it into the Advanced Drama Magnet, getting to skip Intermediate. And this chick in my Honors English class asked me if I'd like to apply for a Musical Theatre teacher opening at the performing arts studio she worked for. And even though I had no musical theatre experience and no formal singing or dance lessons, I miraculously got the job. That girl literally asked me about the position the day after I'd been alone at my house pretending to teach drama to a class. That was bizarre, though really, it was probably just a "God-incidence."

I glanced at my phone, on the gray carpet between me and Mar. Still no new text messages.

I turned to her, pulling out and pushing back in the same book. "Mar, I think something's wrong. Juan hasn't called me in two days and we're supposed to have dinner tonight. You think my dad scared him off?"

She chuckled. "Though his shirtless, Big Foot belly is a little frightening, I highly doubt it."

"What about my mom? She freaking interrogates every guy I bring over and you know how judgey she can be. You should've seen her staring at his sleeve-tats."

"Don't worry, he'll call. He probably lost his phone or..."

My mind drifted elsewhere as Marilyn came up with a list of other compelling excuses as to why my new fling was missing in action. Why did all of these guys keep trippin'? Juan could now be my third dating-dud in two months. I was sick of this crap. My eighteenth birthday would be here before I knew it and I just wanted something steady, something certain and meaningful. I just wanted to meet the one...

Chris's gorgeous face taunted my mind. I removed a book called the Fourth Dimension, opened it in my lap, and feigned reading. Chris Weitman. The one who got away. Though my depression had let up a few months after Landon's birthday party fiasco, the James Franco look-alike still passed through my mind from time to time, a fleeting shadow of the past, of what should have been...

I'd seen him at the mall once afterwards and surprisingly, it didn't hurt--even though at the time he was still with Christina. Instead, my heart only felt excitement, a rush, like it always did whenever my gaze first settled on him.

I sighed and then closed my eyes. God, am I going to see Chris again soon? Please give me a sign if I'm going to or not.

"Yes," Marilyn said.

My eyes opened and I whipped my head in her direction. "What did you just say?"

She handed me my cell. "Your sister just texted you saying 'yes.'"