“Dude, she’ll be here,” Blair whispers, knocking his shoulder against mine.
I’m not too sure about that.
But I have to focus no matter what.
This is my last time on the ice with the guys, my last game. As much as I don’t want to experience this without her, I know there’s a chance I’ll have to. All I can do is hope to god she’s here, and if she’s not… I’ll enjoy this moment with my friends anyway.
She’s not here.
I kept hoping that maybe she’d show, that she was just late, but nope. Three whole periods of looking into the stands and there’s no sign of her.
Steph keeps looking towards the door too, but every time we make eye contact, all she can offer is a sad smile.
Everyone is rooting for us, but it doesn’t feel like enough. The whole world could want us together, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.
I can’t force her to be with me, or change her mind if she’s truly set on staying very far away from me.
But she told me she loves me, she said those fucking words last night, so how could she possibly be okay with staying away?
Is this not killing her like it’s killing me?
Is she not in pain every second that we’re apart?
How could we be so perfect for one another, and yet so fucking different at the same time?
This whole thing is so fucking stupid. I’m supposed to be riding the high of my last game right now, but instead I’m stuck in my head about a girl who I’ve been in love with for years.
Two years ago
What the literal fuck is going on?
It’s like this man is speaking a whole different language, this whole coding thing is so fucking complicated. Just like, I don’t know, write out what you want to happen and then make it happen?
Why do numbers have to be involved?
And even if I could understand what was happening, I wouldn’t be paying much attention anyway.
Not when she’s in the row in front of me.
So yes, I chose this class just to be close to her, call me crazy, but I don’t care. Any chance I have to get near her, I’m going to fucking take.
It’s not like she’d ever talk to me.
Come to think of it, she doesn’t talk much at all.
But that doesn’t matter to me. She could be mute for all I care, so long as she’s near me, I’m happy.
I look over her shoulder, seeing her writing down everysingle thing this professor is saying like it’s the most important thing in the world to her.
It seems like she has no problem focusing or understanding what the hell this guy is talking about. But then again, she’s wicked smart.
Every single exam or test we’ve taken, she always gets a solid A.
“Do you understand a single word he’s saying?” The girl next to me whispers.
I lean back in my seat, still staring at the back of Sasha’s head when I answer. “No, not really.”
Sasha’s back stiffens, and she turns her head just enough to look out the corner of her eye. We make the briefest of eye contact and I swear I stop breathing.
