Confused Realita

Summary: It’s a working title and (longer) short story. They are complete opposites that fall in love by accident. However, one night they have an arguement and decide perhaps it isn’t worth it. Although they continue to think about each other, they don’t get the chance to apologize before one moves away. When they come back, will the flames of love rekindle or flicker out?

When I was thirteen I met him. For two years we loathed each other, yet had to endure the company for mutual friends sake. Luckily it was only a rare occasion for I found him to be the most arrogant, rude, and selfish person I had ever laid eyes on (and his popularity only gave his ego an almost unbearable boost).

Women swooned over the deceiving words of his heart’s admittance; Dalton was a ladies man. Each week he would have a new person latched onto his arm like an accessory to match his shoes. At fifteen he boasted about losing his virginity to an older woman (which everyone knew was a probable possibility anyway). He became immortalized in the boys bathroom of Crenshaw with graffiti; it was the highest accomplishment for a sophomore (or anyone who wasn’t a senior for that matter).

My best friend, Janie, and his best friend, Henry, began dating the summer of our junior year. Due to these circumstances, Dalton and I began seeing one another more often (much to our discontent). The two of us were total opposites that clashed during every meeting.

A few months into their relationship, the pressure of sexual tension was too much for them and they decided it was time. They would leave the two of us alone (for a couple of hours) while they retreated to the bedroom. At first it was an incredibly awkward situation.

One night Dalton noticed my discomfort after they had left and (in a move slightly uncharacteristic of him) he began some small talk to lighten the mood. And he didn’t argue with me once.

Things became less dreadful between us afterwards. Within the course of a month, our small talk had transformed into intimate conversations about life, goals, and beliefs. I actually began enjoying his company.

Over time I could tell he had grown an attachment to me as well. However, we decided it was easier to keep up the act of hatred than explain our newfound friendship to others; we continued to masquerade our true feelings.

I didn’t approve of his philandering ways. As much as I adored him (perhaps even loved), I did not trust him. After watching his actions with other women, I knew we couldn’t ever be involved. I knew things between us would only eventually end in heartache.

Once (when we were left alone one night) he asked if I wanted to give it a try.

“Give what a try?” I asked slowly; uncertainly. Back then I was naïve (perhaps I still am). Although I wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking, I did have some sort of inkling as to what it was. I shifted around on the brown suede couch uncomfortably.

“What they’re doing.” He whispered while giving a small nod in the direction of the door they were behind. His eyes never left my own.

My face was redder than it probably ever had (and has ever) been in my life. I shook my head furiously and exclaimed in shock, “No!” The thought of such a proposition horrified me. What kind of girl did he see me as?

Of course he tried all of the cliché lines that one would expect a womanizer to say. “I don’t just want to do it for fun. I actually like you.”

For a moment I had my doubts, but I didn’t cave. He seemed a little angry, which upset me. Did he really think me that easy? And did he honestly find our friendship so easy to throw away for one night of sex? It was at that moment I decided to forget about Dalton Dale Cromwell.

To be continued… (eventually)…