amelie

During high school their social circles melted together, I guess that’s what happens when you like similar things as you grow up in the same school. The Drama club was the best place on earth according to her, and that group of people became one of the reasons she looked forward to living every day. It made her feel like she belonged, even if she wasn't the main one, she was okay with that.

Drew, instead, even at the plays, was always the main one. He was talented, really talented. He didn’t want to become an actor, he always said, he just enjoyed it.

Every dialogue their characters shared in any of their plays repeated in her hair for hours to end. She memorized the way he pronounced the words, the way his eyes softened. 

She liked him as long as she could remember. She used to say he was her first love, now she wouldn’t call it love, you can’t love someone that has never even looked at you that way. But she liked him, still, god she liked him so much, she had always found herself drawn to him.

She lifted her head on the hallways when she noticed him around, her headphones blasting Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. He always acknowledged her, in some way or another, his eyes met hers and he waved, or nodded. Unless his girlfriend was around.

Juliette. She was cute, really, a year younger than them and a gaze that irradiated sweetness. He had declared to her a few months into their senior year, with a poem he made the drama club friends listen to make sure it wasn't too cheesy. It was a dream, actually, something she imagined herself being the protagonist of.

Drew always found a way to bring up her girlfriend. They could have been talking about Disney films and he would mention that her girlfriend also liked the same character as her. She hated it, but just smiled and nodded.

•••

She found ways to get annoyed at him. It was easier. She hated his snobbish poetry and the way he refused to practice their scenes until it was too late. She hated the way he looked at her, and that she couldn’t look away until he did. 

•••

She was outside on the balcony, the blue light from inside the house contrasted against the light of the North Carolina stars. Some friends had organized a farewell party for the seniors. She went out to take a break from the drink table, having had more than a few. She lit up a cigarette, the last one, the lucky one, the one you turn around once you open a package and save it last to ask for a wish. 

“That is so bad for you,” he chuckled, leaning his back against the railing, next to her.

She turned slightly, noticing the way the blue leds reflected on his white t-shirt, she smiled softly and let out a puff of smoke. “Not really, if I only smoke at parties.”

Drew leaned just slightly, he always did that, leaning a little closer when it was just the two of them. “Share?” 

She frowned, but extended her hand, anyway. “Thought you didn’t smoke.”

He reached for the cigarette, his fingers brushing hers unconsciously, and she breathed out again. “I don’t.”

He then pressed the cigarette against the railing, spending it, then threw it out the balcony. She might have killed him, or kissed if she were brave enough and the girlfriend factor wasn't there.

“Hey!” 

He just shrugged, snickering softly as he watched the cig fall, then turned back to her with a smirk.

She scoffed in resignation, but her eyes met his almost automatically. “I must let you know that you killed the best cigarette I've ever had.”

“At least you'll live.”

Her frown deepened, but also her smile. He didn’t care if she lived or died. “As if you’d miss me.”

“Hey, of course I'll miss you.”

“That's bullshit.” She shook her head, trying, for a second, to pry her eyes away from the smirk on his lips.

He looked away too, the same moment she did. He stared out the balcony at the nightsky, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head. “So… NYU? that 's far.”

“That's the point.” She smiled, looking down at her nails. Then she inevitably looked back at him again. “Don’t know, stay here. Probably go into engineering. I can't leave, Julie’s here.”

“Right.” She paused for a second, then continued. “You’re lucky you got someone.”

He shrugged, grinning to himself. She couldn’t help but wonder what would feel like being the cause of a smile like that. 

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Did you have a drink yet?”

“Hmh,” he nodded. “I'm fine for the night.”

“Of course, well I do want another, so if you’ll excuse me,” she smiled. “Don’t stop being nice,”

“Sure, keep calling me nice.” As she turned around his hand brushed her arm, impossible to know at this moment of the night if it was real or just her imagination. 

That night she dreamed of that encounter, the alcohol dizzying her even more into a fantasy in which he grabbed her hand and kissed her goodbye.

•••

She saw him just one more time before leaving for New York.

She had come to realize they weren’t really friends during this get together with the drama club, suddenly pairs had formed, everyone in the circle deep in conversation with the person beside them. 

She found herself sitting in a two body couch next to Drew, hyper aware of his presence. No alcohol involved this time she looked around awkwardly. The courage to converse wasn’t there like in the night of the party weeks ago. She realized they didn’t really have anything to talk about, they just shared glances a few times and waited for the other to spark into conversation. Yeah, they weren’t even friends honestly.

At that moment she also realized she couldn’t really like him. It was probably the mental image she had idealized of him. They weren’t even close enough to have a sober conversation, why did she think she was drawn to him?

•••

A girl never gets over her first love, but he wasn’t her first lover. He was the first boy she saw, the first one she was interested in. Her first crush, who she wrote a love letter once and his best friend found out and told everyone, Drew never once mentioned it to her.

This wasn’t a love story, she couldn’t write a love letter and drop it on his locker mysteriously. She wouldn’t be the eternal secret admirer. 

“I just decided I had to get over it,” she told her friend once. “It’s just weird cause i’ve liked many people but somehow my mind always comes back to him.”

She watched too many movies when she was younger, too many tales about princesses finding their prince.

He was never her first love, or maybe he was; it didn’t matter anymore because she was never his. He never liked her back, he had never never looked at her the way she looked at him.