“She was a model of physical perfection. She was my gift. But I lost her to other things…” his words drifted off as the rain began to fall. He then turned to look at me; I was not bothered the slightest by the downpour and from the corner of my eye, I saw him smile.
“I didn’t like her.”
“I don’t care.”
“You deserve someone who’ll look at you the way I look at food.”
“Now that’s impossible.” he nudged me and laughed, “your love for food is literally unattainable.”
What he didn’t know was that I looked at him in a way no one else would. His disgusting, two-faced self had my attention and I wanted more than he had to offer. Many advised me to tell him but the reality of rejection was too harsh and I never connected with the concept of it.
I was slowly seeping into my subconscious when he spoke.
“I think about one girl in particular,” he said, hoping to provoke a reaction, “but she’s a bore.”
“Then she’s not for us.” I said flatly, eyeing him closely and he laughed. I watched as he clutched at his wet shirt and shook his head. I giggled. Being in the state we were in, slightly intoxicated, our laughter was uncontrollable now. We were hysterical.
The rain intensified and none of us seemed moved by it. I picked up the bottle of cheap vodka. Unscrewing the cup off, I lifted the bottle to my lips and took two gulps of the drink, wincing as my throat burned. I kept drinking from the bottle until my mind turned into an incoherent wreck and my rationality was basically nonexistent. I felt detached from reality and turned to Mike. He was sleepy, docile and high. I debated for what felt like an eternity on whether I should tell him what I actually felt or just let it go. Then his eyes met mine and he parted his lips.
“Diane, would you date me?” I had only half a second to panic and my eyes widened. In my drunken state, I heard what I wanted to hear and not what he asked.
“I mean, would you date someone like me?” he rephrased.
“Oh thank God! I thought you were actually asking me out!” I fake laughed, disappointed and angry.
“I wouldn’t!” He joined in with my laughter.
He smiled and fist bumped me then pulled me in for a hug. I felt entirely disoriented by the feeling of being so close to the kind of guy I wanted to be so close to. I pushed him away playfully and laughed. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and I did the same. I unlocked the screen and scrolled through my messages then looked at the time. 20:34. My thumb moved to the home button and I switched it off and turned to look at him. His eyes were glued to his phone’s screen.
“I have this gut feeling that I’m going to be alone for a long, long time.” He spoke in a trance and I tried not to breathe, afraid to distract him. “This is the first girl I genuinely liked, if not loved. But things didn’t go so well for the both of us.” I drank from the bottle again, saddened and bitter that he wouldn’t notice what I felt for him. “It’s something I have come to terms with. Now all I have to do is learn to assume the worst.”
“Look around you,” I hinted, “th…th…there’s probably someone who reeeaally cares for you…a..and wants to be with you.” My speech was slurred and at this point, my eyes were bleary and unfixed, attempting to seek out his.
“You’re really drunk.” He commented.
“You don’t say…” my statement heavily wreaked of sarcasm just as my breath wreaked of the spirit.
“Thanks for being my best friend.” He said and turned away, looking into the distance. I let my eyes fall on whatever he was looking at and nodded.
After what he had said to me, a single thought haunted me, that maybe… just maybe, he might have been the lonely one all along.