On Broken Strings: Prologue
You sit in your desk, tapping your pencil along with some song that she’s introduced you to that’s stuck in your head. She loves the song, so she played it the night you snuck over when your dad was pissed at you while you talked about it. She plays it so she can sleep when she’s had a bad day. She sings parts of it to her five-year-old brother when he wakes up and cuddles with her. You’ve always wondered what it would be like to cuddle with her. You never had the chance to when you two were dating, and it nags at you every time something happens that could have been romantic.
You want to slap yourself for thinking about it, thinking about her, in the middle of class but you can’t because she’s just across the room. Her Psychology teacher is in a meeting, so your Chemistry teacher decided to watch her class. For once you like the old bore because now you can look at her all you want. You glance over at her and she looks bored out of her mind. You forgot that she had this class last year. You forgot she’s graduating next month. But you didn’t forget the real reason you take extra classes and study like crazy. It was to follow her to New York so you could be together. But you can’t be now, since you fucked it up. You think about the few ‘couple-y’ things you did together, in the short time you were with her.
You think about the one time she dragged you along to the mall with her and her mother. She was trying on a dress for some formal event her mother was taking her to. Her mother was in a different store, and she needed help with the zipper on the back of the dress. She walks out holding the dress to her chest, and your heart almost speeds up. She doesn’t speak, but simply grabs your hand and walks back to the dressing room area. She stands in front of the three mirrors that all dressing rooms have and pulls her long brown hair out of the way. She’s not wearing a bra, or at least it’s not visible, and that’s what gets your heart racing. You look at her via the mirror, and you see that shy girl you think you’re in love with peeking at you out of the corner of her eye. But the shyness melts away and there she stands in her full independent glory that you love. “Zip me up?” She says almost casually, and you do so. You wonder who could say no to her.
Your teacher calls on you, and you tear your eyes away from her just long enough to say the correct answer. The class goes on, but you’re stuck thinking of her and the chance you had. You want another chance, but then again you don’t.
So you bottle it up, like you always do.
You want to slap yourself for thinking about it, thinking about her, in the middle of class but you can’t because she’s just across the room. Her Psychology teacher is in a meeting, so your Chemistry teacher decided to watch her class. For once you like the old bore because now you can look at her all you want. You glance over at her and she looks bored out of her mind. You forgot that she had this class last year. You forgot she’s graduating next month. But you didn’t forget the real reason you take extra classes and study like crazy. It was to follow her to New York so you could be together. But you can’t be now, since you fucked it up. You think about the few ‘couple-y’ things you did together, in the short time you were with her.
You think about the one time she dragged you along to the mall with her and her mother. She was trying on a dress for some formal event her mother was taking her to. Her mother was in a different store, and she needed help with the zipper on the back of the dress. She walks out holding the dress to her chest, and your heart almost speeds up. She doesn’t speak, but simply grabs your hand and walks back to the dressing room area. She stands in front of the three mirrors that all dressing rooms have and pulls her long brown hair out of the way. She’s not wearing a bra, or at least it’s not visible, and that’s what gets your heart racing. You look at her via the mirror, and you see that shy girl you think you’re in love with peeking at you out of the corner of her eye. But the shyness melts away and there she stands in her full independent glory that you love. “Zip me up?” She says almost casually, and you do so. You wonder who could say no to her.
Your teacher calls on you, and you tear your eyes away from her just long enough to say the correct answer. The class goes on, but you’re stuck thinking of her and the chance you had. You want another chance, but then again you don’t.
So you bottle it up, like you always do.