Giving Her Some Alone time: His Story- The Waiting Game

He checked his phone for the 5th time, waiting to see if she had messaged him. It was the third Friday straight she would be missing their weekly meet up and so far no message. She had messaged the last two times saying she was either ill or busy. But in class she seemed neither sick nor stressed. Well she seemed sad though. He just didn’t get it. Last time they met she seemed fine. Granted she left quickly, but she didn’t seem mad. So then: why give him the cold shoulder in class? Was she avoiding him? Why would she? It made no sense. He sat at their bench hands under his chin, elbows on his thighs.

What happened?

He remembered the first time he meet her, she was coming towards the classroom door he was lounging around. She was literally bouncing on her heels, her ridiculous layered skirt flouncing with her. She looked so fucking cute he had said hi.

“Hi”

She was walking with Judy and Twigs. “Hey?”

“I like that skirt you’re wearing.” What the fuck? WHAT. THE. FUCK? Did he just say what he thought he said? She was going to think he’s a pervert for sure.

He could see her eyes narrow infinitesimally, but she was nice. “Thank you, it was gift.”

“You’re welcome.” He grappled for something else to say, but found nothing.

She saved him the trouble. Looking at his mortified face, she smiled. “Are you in Prasad’s class also?” Then blushed, obliviously finding her question just as moronic since he WAS standing by the door. Her discomfort had made him more comfortable.

“Yeah, I heard he was the best.”

“Me, too.”

The classroom had opened and as the students began to file in, he looked at her. She smiled, “Why don’t you sit with us?”

And he did. They had been friends ever since. The beautiful girl with the flouncy skirt had become a part of his life that he couldn’t do without.

And now she’s nowhere to be found.

He flashed back to reality, checking his phone again. Nada. Zilch.

If he were to admit to himself, there were times he wanted to be more than friends, tell her what he really thought. But he could never do it. He wasn’t wired that way. Girls came to him, that’s how His Keeper-uh-Stacey came into his life… and stayed there. He rubbed the back of his neck. Stacey was whole another issue that he would rather not think about.

He thought about texting her again, but wasn’t in the mood for a terse reply that grated his nerve. He checked his phone again and got up to leave. As he walked, he reasoned, maybe she just needs time and would contact him when whatever was bothering her was sorted out. She was private that way. He would wait.

But no reasoning in the world could rid him of the nagging feeling that something had changed, and his fear that he would someday lose her friendship (which is the main reason he kept his feelings to himself) began to gnaw at him.

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