Amy Valentine

a short story about a boy, the girl he's loved his whole life, and how he finally told her how he felt.

Amy Valentine. The most haunting name in history. Well... for me at least. The name itself is synonymous with unrequited love. Well... for me at least. And I guess it's not totally unrequited. I mean, she does love me. Very much so, in fact. It's just... it's just that it's not the kind of love I feel for her, you know? She feels the love of a close friend for me, while I feel... well, you must have already figured that much out already.

It probably wouldn't be so bad. I mean, under normal circumstances I'm pretty sure it wouldn't hurt so frickin' much. But these aren't normal circumstances. It's very small, what she says every time we meet, but it causes me more pain on a daily basis than anything I have, and likely ever will experience. It's... difficult to explain, so I'll just show you. Today... the day I vowed, like I had vowed many times before, to confess my feelings for her. For you see, I have a plan. A way I can confess without her realizing until I finish.

Here I arrive after my 45 minute bus ride. The Valentine residents. Where Amy lives, along with her mother and two sisters. They're supposed to be gone for the day, the two sisters and the mother. It'll be just me and Amy. I gulp, putting my sketch pad back into my bag (I had spent the bus ride drawing people on the bus).

I walk up to the front door, but stop when I hear voices inside the house. I don't think the place is getting robbed; the voices sound happy. And one of them belongs to Amy.

As I open the front door, I can see them. Amy and... a girl I've never seen before. I open the door. I take my shoes off before moving very far into the house. Amy's and the mystery girl's voices stop.

“Scott,” Amy starts after the half a second it took her to tell who I was, “Come here! I want you to meet my new best friend!” She sounds just as bubbly and over-enthusiastic as always. I feel a smile forcing itself across my face.

“Scott, this is Bailey! She just moved in next door!”

“Hello, Bailey,” I say, offering my hand to her.

“Bailey, this is the Scott I was telling you about,” Amy says as Bailey accepts my hand-shake invitation. “My little brother!”

There it was; the four words that have caused me more accumulative than the most painful death imaginable... oh, wait, it's not what you think.

“You're her brother?” Bailey asks, looking to me curiously as my smile painfully fades.

“Well... not"”

“Not by blood,” Amy interrupts, speaking slightly louder than necessary (though normal tone for her), “but I've known him so long he's like a little brother to me.”

Bailey looks to me curiously, perhaps wondering about my sudden pain.

“Well, I'm going to sit down for a bit,” I announce, heading into the living room. “Those bus seats aren't user-friendly.”

I pull out my sketch pad as I sit down, looking at the newest page. “Ohh! Did you draw something new?” Amy asks, moving to sit next to me.

“Not really, same old same old” I say, turning the page I drew on the bus to her. It was a drawing of a mother I saw. Her hair was harried, her features tired, with a contently sleeping infant in her arms. I felt inspired by the woman. It seemed like her life was very difficult, like she was barely making enough money to stay alive, like she had to do things she wasn't proud of, but wasn't ashamed of having to do to get where she was. Yet, through all of that, she was putting whatever remaining energy she had into protecting her child.

“Woah...” Amy said, slowly handing the pad back to me, her eyes glued to the picture, her fingers almost refusing to let it go. “You get better after every sketch! You could totally sell that one for a lot of money!”

I feel my earlier smile coming back, stronger than before. I pull out my pencil, editing and fixing the smaller details as Amy watched from the next seat. I started feeling nervous. Why was she still sitting so close to me?

But, in the normal Amy fashion, she completely changed course. “I'll be back,” she said, hopping out of the seat, “I gotta use the bathroom.” Completely and thoroughly dismissing my hidden emotions, she exited the room to use the toilet.

Bailey moved to sit where Amy had. “You are really good,” she whispered as she watched the page.

“Thank you,” I said, lifting the pencil slightly from the paper and holding it there.

After about few seconds, Bailey voiced her confusion. “Why did you stop?”

“I can't draw when someone is too close, or when they’re watching me.”

“But... Amy was sitting right here earlier and you could still draw.”

“Amy is... like a part of me. She doesn't count.” After that, I closed the pad, putting it back into my bag.

Bailey looks back to where Amy went, then to me again. “Do you like her?”

“Who?”

“Amy.”

Am I that obvious...? No, of course not... she's probably just one of those hopeless romantic people, over analyzing everything.

“No...” I answer, sounding less convincing than I intended, staring at the blank television at the other end of the room.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Didn't you hear her? I'm just her little brother.”

Bailey didn't say anything else. I kept my eyes on the TV. After another few seconds, Amy came back into the room, sitting on the couch beside me, on the opposite side of Bailey.

“Well... I'm gonna get out of here. I'll come by later, okay Amy?”

“Alright, Bailey,” Amy said as she grabbed an X-box 360 controller, turning the system and the TV on. “Come by whenever you want!”

“Alright, I will. See you later, Scott,” Bailey said, looking to me one final time. I smiled and waved to her before she left.

“Scott, you want to play?” she asked as the TV came to life in a torrent of lights and sounds.

“No, I'm fine.” I pulled my second sketch pad out. The one that kept sketches I had of Amy. I had different sketch pads for different people I often drew, but none so full as Amy's. I started sketching her, in her usual 'gaming' position.

“Bailey came over earlier, and she was telling me how she dumped her boyfriend for cheating on her a month ago. Then she asked if I knew any good boys, and I started telling her about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. She was cute, right? Why don't you go talk to her some time?”

“No, thank you. I'm still waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

I felt my heart speed up a bit. This was the perfect opportunity. I wouldn't find a better one. “For the girl who sets fireworks off in my heart.”

“Oh my god, that sounds so weird!” she says, laughing to herself.

“It's still true.”

“Yeah, well, what are you going to do in the mean time? You can't stay single your whole life while you wait, right?”

“I'm hoping to not have to wait the long... well, how about you help me?”

“Help you what?”

“Learn about this stuff. Like, if I found a girl I liked, what should I do?”

“Oh... well, you should make sure she knows you like her for starters. And you gotta bring her places, make sure she enjoys being with you. It's not really about where you go so much as how it goes, you know? And always make sure to treat her respectfully.”

“What if doing that and treating her with respect doesn't work? Like, if she never thinks anything of me because I'm too nice to her?”

“Well, then, she's an idiot. If she's not smart enough to realize how awesome you are after all of that, than you don't belong with that girl.”

“Alright...” I pause briefly, wondering if after this is over she'll remember calling herself an idiot. “What if she only considers me like a friend? What do I do then?”

“Well, you keep trying until she acknowledges you. You can't give up because of something simple like that!”

“... and what if she only ever sees me as a little brother?”

The sound of her hitting buttons on the controller stop. I can feel her staring at me, but I don't dare look up from my sketch pad. My stomach was tying itself up, making me feel almost like throwing up.

“And how about telling her how I feel, or asking her out? How should I do that?”

“Sc-Scott...?” she says, her voice soft and confused. All my senses feel like they’re in overdrive. I can feel everything, see everything, and hear everything. I can see almost every detail of the paper on my sketch pad. I could feel my heart beat, and hear the soft sound of music playing from the neighboring house. It was “Just The Way You Are”, by Bruno Mars.

“Would asking her while she's playing a video game be a good time?”

Time froze. I'd... I'd done it... there was no taking it back now. I couldn't even bring myself to say I was kidding. My throat was completely clamped shut. The entire room was still, save for my hand. Working diligently, it finished the sketch of Amy.

 

I looked at what I had drawn. Amy. She was wearing tight jean shorts, like she always did in summer. Her right foot, like it always was, was in a weird position. She had pulled it under her so it was under the left side of her butt, while her left leg hung over the side of the couch. Her hands, wrapped around the game controller, her thumb moving wildly as it smashed the 'X' button, the entire controller leaning to the left as if that would change the direction her character was going. Her shirt was tight, and pretty thin. It was a light purple with a big red devil smiley face on it. Her face... it was twisted in pure concentration, both on my questions and her game. Her hair was long, dark brown. Wildly from the top of her head to the hem of her shorts, every inch of it enticed me. Her mouth, a proud, blissfully happy, almost arrogant grin as she defeated opponents in her game world. Her eyes... a bright blue, a shining ring around her pupil, as she glanced over to me from the game when I asked one of my questions. I closed the sketch pad. And after a moment more, a moment of staring at the cover, I looked up to Amy. 

Author's Note

stuff. i write it, you read it, you write about it, i read about it.