The confusion on Heidi’s face morphed into glee. “Aw, Hunter,” she gushed, cupping my cheeks with one hand and squeezing like she used to when I was a kid. “That’s so nice of her.”
My sister and I were close, four years separating us. I tended to share everything with her. All my wins and all my losses. Heidi was a great listener and advice giver. I trusted her judgement more than anyone else’s in my life. She was wellaware of my crush on Gabriela and had been rooting for us since the start—since the moment I returned from Josh’s party awestruck and told her about the pretty girl who caught my attention.
Yesterday, I confessed to kissing Gabriela on Friday and then adding the same elective as her on Saturday. Heidi broke out into a cheer routine, and afterwards teased me for being whipped. I let it slide because it came with the territory of being an older sister.
“Yeah.” I flicked my gaze back to the search results on my screen. “I’m thinking of making resin bookmarks with the rose petals. One for her and one for me. She’s a bookworm, so I figured…”
I trailed off, but Heidi understood, squeezing my shoulder. “That’s an amazing idea, Hunt. Here, let’s watch some tutorials to better understand the process.”
We did exactly that and I took notes with a fountain pen on one of my dad’s old notepads. Later on, we placed an order online for all the supplies. Heidi promised to help with this creative project. Since I’d only need two out of the three roses, my sister said she’d take the last one and turn it into pressed flower art, saying that I could frame it in my apartment if I wanted to. And though it would only add to mywhippedstatus, I wasn’t completely opposed to the suggestion.
“Gabriela’s going to love the bookmark,” Heidi said, gently stroking the petals of the roses before heading over to take a seat on my bed.
I closed my laptop and spun around in my chair to face her. “I hope so.”
“Now tell me what’s on your mind.” She crossed her legs and steepled her hands around her right knee. “You’ve been relatively quiet throughout the entire evening, and I know it’s got nothing to do with school or football.”
Heidi and I had the innate ability to see through each other. Lying or suppressing our feelings never worked. I combed my fingers through my hair and grasped my nape, the day’s frustration ebbing away until the only thing I felt in my muscles was a dull resignation. “She wants to be friends, Heidi, and I want more.”
Compassion stitched over her visage. “Hunter…”
“I can be that for her. But I do not want to be stuck in the friend zone forever.” I’d spent over a year longing for her that a little bit of wait wouldn’t kill me. Though the possibility that there may never bemorefor us just might. “Heidi, she doesn’t mind that I’m introverted and more of a homebody. She even invited me to her association’s upcoming mixer and promised to hang with me by the sidelines because, well, you know I’m not fond of crowded spaces.”
“I see,” Heidi echoed softly, pleased.
“There’s something about her that just feels different, you know? She’s kind, she’s sweet, she makes me laugh, and though I’ve only known her for a short amount of time, it feels like I’ve known her forever. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I want to take a chance on her and I want her to take a chance on me too. I don’t think it would be like…the last time.”
And that was truly the crux of it all.
I had one ex-girlfriend, Ginette, from sixteen to eighteen years old. She treated me like garbage. The worst part? I let her for so long until I realized it wasn’t fair to me. We met in high school during detention. Me, for being late. Her, for causing a ruckus in the music room. She played the trombone in the school’s band. I’d seen her perform a few times and thought she was cute. It took me forever to gather up the courage to ask her out. Much to my delight, she was quick to say yes. Ginette was outgoing. I was comfortable in my little bubble. I thought it wasnormal for opposites to attract. Therefore, I assumed she liked me forme.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
After the honeymoon period was over, she became rude and acted like I was a nuisance no matter how hard I tried to just be there for her like a good boyfriend. We broke up because I found her cheating on me with my teammate.
Turned out, she only dated me for what I represented: a status symbol due to my position as the quarterback of the football team. I was her ticket to high school fame. Ginette hadn’t cared about me as a person. It was a superficial relationship. And she’d been quick to point out during our last fight that I was too introverted for her taste, still too emotional over my dad’s death, and that the only good quality I possessed, besides my looks, was my dick.
Ginette said I made it so fucking easy to be cheated on—that I deserved it.
After that confrontation, I remembered feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience when I left her and proceeded to puke my guts out in the nearest trash can, overwhelmed by all my painful emotions.
My dad’s passing took a huge toll on me. I lost my best friend and my hero at a very young age. It turned me into a sad, withdrawn kid. The only time I felt alive was when I was on the field. Football was my sole remaining connection to him. Things got better when I entered high school because it was a fresh start. I made friends and learned to be a little bit more confident. But Ginette’s nasty words were like an arrow straight to my chest. As if I were worthless because I couldn’t become the extrovert she wanted overnight, couldn’t turn off my grief like a faucet, and couldn’t be anything more than a notch in her belt.
I’d come a long way since high school. Every now and then, my old insecurities roared to life until I pushed past them again.Though I still wasn’t overly extroverted, I liked the person I was today after putting in years of work into myself. Reading self-help books, engaging in talk therapy, and having good friends like Josh and Shaun had gotten me here.
After my breakup with Ginette, I subjected myself to celibacy and then to some meaningless one-night stands for a while. I realized by the time I turned nineteen that emotionless hookups and casual dating weren’t for me. I’d always been a one-woman type of man. But unfortunately, I turned too self-conscious post-Ginette, overanalysing and overthinking every little detail. It was like I’d become my own worst enemy.
That was why it took me so long to pursue Gabriela and why Friday night felt like such a breakthrough. It allowed me to rid myself of a mental shackle holding me back from the thing I desired most.
Gabriela was like a breath of fresh air compared to my past.
She didn’t care about football, didn’t know my jersey number, didn’t know anything about my stats. Being Vesta University’s star quarterback didn’t matter to her.
If anything, it felt like she could like me forme.
I wanted her to see me the same way I saw her.
I wanted her to adore me the same way I started adoring her.
