A short love story with dual narration

Love, teens, innocence. Based off my own life experiences ***Not finished

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, in the usual corner where they spent the lunch period, both headphones shoved in her ears, though I knew one of them was broken and didn’t play music, she just hadn’t bothered to replace it. I let my black backpack slide off my shoulders and onto the red and white linoleum floor, and slide down the tiled wall to sit next to her. She lazily opens her brown speckled eyes, framed by naturally thick, black lashes.

“Hey, fathead.” She said quietly, looking at him and taking out one of her headphones.

I slipped my hand in my pocket and pulled out my phone, tapped a couple of times on the screen and started scrolling through my Vine feed. “Hey, fruitcake.” I said back after a pause, not looking at her perfection. I could feel her watching me, but I didn’t make it known that she made me feel like my chest was on fire.

Other girls that she was friends with started filing in and surrounding her, but I didn’t give up my spot next to her. She took her headphones out and started talking a mile a minute with them, seeming to ignore me completely. I wanted to talk to her so badly, but I just didn’t know how to interject and start a conversation. Instead I found some vines I thought were funny, and tapped her on the bony shoulder, scooching a few inches closer to her, trying to be confident.

She turned, her choppy hair sweeping over her face. “Yeah?” She says coolly, I hold the phone out and play a couple of the videos. For the most part, she smiles, occasional lets a giggle escape, but then covers it with a comment like “Oh my God that’s so dumb.” The entire time, I watch her face, her naturally pink lips pucker and stretch into her magnificent smile that she thought was ugly.

Eventually, she went back to talking with her friends, saying “That’s the fifth video…” in her sweet, smooth voice.  and I was left with my phone again. I pushed one headphone into my ear and listened to music as I glanced at her last text that I never responded to:

So I was cooking with my mom and there was this potato with these little indentation that looked like eyes i kid u not. Look.

Below the green bubble of text was a picture of the potato held in between her manicured fingers. It made me cringe at her quirkiness, but it made me laugh as well. I didn’t know why I never responded to it, I guess I just didn’t know what to say.

He was standing next to me, I feel his backpack hit the floor with a thud, and he slid down the wall and came to rest on the floor very, very close to me. I stretched out my legs, conscious of how my thighs spread out when I pushed them against the floor, almost touching. I folded my legs again.  

I turned to face him, taking in his red, plaid shirt and freckled skin. “Hey, fathead.” I said.

His eyes never left his phone, but he said “Hey, fruitcake.” My heart swelled, I tried to contain my excitement: he had used our inside joke.

I watched his nail bitten fingers as they danced across the screen, I wanted desperately to say something, but I didn’t know what I could possibly say that would interest him. It looked like his phone was more interesting than anything I couldve said. My chest deflated- today was not going to be one that made me feel full and loved. That was the constant gamble with secretly loving someone, some days made me feel like I was floating above all my problems, but others made me question why I even was friends with him.

I thought of all this while I talked mindlessly with people that barely knew a thing about me. They always talked about trivial things, like who slept with whom, who was hosting a party this weekend, and how absolutely tired they all were.  

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to face him. The circle of girls closes, and I am pushed out of the conversation. I push my back against the wall in a sort-of stretch, careful to keep my wrists facing downwards. He held his phone up in a slightly shaking hand, on the screen was a video. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as he pressed play. Nothing he showed me was particularly hilarious, but I sometimes still laughed, for reasons even I don’t know.

I could feel his gray- blue eyes staring at me the whole time, scanning my face. I turned red and sweaty, and when I couldn't stand it anymore, I went back to talking to my friends. I guess I just didn’t know what to say.

I downloaded a new app on my phone, and for days I’d been trying to beat my high score. It was lunch-time again, this time on a day that we had our seventh period immediately afterward- Health and PE 10.

She was sitting next to me, talking with the same girls she sat with every other day. Today, a smirk, punctuated by a genuine smile danced across her face as she laughed at the girl’s story. I think her name was Isabelle. Or was it Isabella? It was something about the girl who lived in the apartment below her, but I’m not entirely sure, I wasn’t paying attention.

One of my friends walked up and said hello to her and nodded at me, then stood idly above us, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his faded jeans. I held out my phone to him, my arm hovering just above her head, and asked if he had seen the app before. He nodded and grunted a “yeah” and started talking about his canceled wrestling match, and how he was totally going to “smash that guy so hard he wouldn’t wake up for a week.”

I stopped listening then, and watched her head tilt up, her feathery hair brushing against my forearm, and glance questioningly at the floating phone. “What on God’s green earth are you doing?” She asked. I retracted my arm and showed her the game.

“Let me try.” She said, her voice serious, but the smirk/ half-smile still on her pink lips.

“Ok, but I bet you can’t beat my score.” I said jokingly.

“Yeah right. It can’t be that hard.” She said, grabbing the phone. I noticed how much bigger it looked compared to her hand rather than mine.

“We’ll see.” I said, watching her red painted nails tap the screen with increasing speed. It wasn’t more than thirty seconds before the screen went black and read “Game Over!” I held out my hand, expecting her to slap the device back in my hand in defeat. Instead, she held it in her hands, saying “One more time. I’ve got this.” Her smile grew wider.

Jokingly stern, I said “Okay, but just once more.”

“That’s all the time I need, boy.” She said, and pressed “Play”.

Her fingers flew, narrowly escaping a virtual death every few seconds. “Wow.” I whispered, moving closer to get a better view of the small screen. My shoulder and (admittedly, small) bicep pressed against her slender one. Never breaking her gaze on the screen, she, very quietly in halting speech, asked me,  “Why is your forearm, I mean, your, um, you know, your shoulder...on me?”

“I’m just trying to get a better look.” I said casually. Her arm gave off little heat. I wondered if she was cold. I didn’t dare ask.

I moved over, away from her, My upper arm felt like I had just rubbed it down with a thick coating of numbing gel- like the kind of stuff they give you at the dentist. I wanted to wrap my arms around her small frame, but I resisted and tried to be content with looking. I realized how creepy I looked so I detached my gaze from her and began scanning scanning the immediate area: I saw the girls still talking, the other students walking lazily around the halls, weighted down with backpacks. I could feel her soft eyes on me, so I stared back, only to realize that she had lost the game again. “High Score!” the screen read in dark red lettering.

“I won.” She said, handing me back the phone. I reached out, and not looking, accidently put my hand over hers. She immediately pulled back.

It was another lunch period, I was sitting in the same spot, with the same people, nibbling on the same thing- a cheese and mustard sandwich- my favorite food. He was sitting next to me, but farther away, in the corner, wearing baggy gray sweatpants. His black pullover sweatshirt was on his lap, where he was resting his hands, playing a videogame with the utmost interest. I was cold, but I didn’t dare ask him if I could borrow the sweatshirt. He laughed out loud at whatever was on the screen, but when I asked him what he was doing, he didn’t respond. I slid closer to my friends, talking louder, acting like I was having more fun. The girl’s story really was funny, punctuated by her high pitched laugh and snide remarks. I laughed, loud and wheezing, I didn’t hold back.

A guy that I knew he was friends with walked up to our group, said a quick hello to me and waved to the others in our group. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, swaying side to side. I felt something brush the top of my head. It was his freckled arm. He was holding his phone out straight over my head. He was showing his friend the game or something. They didn’t talk much, just nodded and grunted a lot.

Author's Note

Not finished yet, but please leave comments.

I'm really not sure about this one