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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
My attempt at dramatic irony for a Creative Writing exercise.

Submitted: February 11, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 11, 2011



Margo, Kim and I stood forming a tight circle against the rough bump of the alcohol fueled party goers. Goosebumps dotted our arms but a couple shots of Jack had taken care of the chill. The damp grass springy beneath our feet, dusted with the earliest morning dew made our Converse squeak unabashedly. College students roared and laughed and already a few small brawls had quickly flared and died, the overall tone one of camaraderie and good cheer. A cheap disco ball threw squares of white light across the lawn and flashed epilepticly. We discussed amongst ourselves the prospects of the night.

Kim leaned in, her freckled face framed with straw-colored hair and whispered conspiratorially, “I spy a hottie, see? Over there by the keg.... No, not the one with hat on! As if!” Kim scoffs, “The one with the red shirt leaning on the railing... see?”

“He's alright. Know who I like?” Margo’s thin face beams mischievously, “I like the one with the hat on.” Her smiles grows wide, she tilts her head a bit to the side and coyly bites the tip of her tongue.

We roar with tipsy laughter, perhaps a little louder and longer than truly warranted but tonight is going well and the party is well stocked with beers and boys. I scan the crowd, trying to pinpoint my crush from psychology class who I overheard saying to a friend he would be here. “Oh my god! There he is!” I gush excitedly, “Trevor.” I sigh, “Isn't he just gorgeous? I would eat him in a minute.”

Margo and Kim laugh and we move onto another subject, but the entire time my mind is stuck on Trevor. Trevor with his smooth, sun-kissed skin, full kissable lips, contemporary well-kept dreads. Trevor with his pants that just barely hug the contours of his round, pert rear. Trevor with his hand raised in class, always so intelligent, so understanding of the mind, of emotions. I swear my heart gives an audible sigh.

I told myself that tonight was the night I would finally drink up... I mean build up, the courage to finally ask Trevor out. It's a new age. Women can do that. I had been psyching myself up for weeks. You are a hot, attractive, intelligent young woman. Of course you have a chance. You'll never know if you don't try. I practically broke out in hives just thinking about it. But I decided it had to be now or never.

I give myself an excuse to slip away, “All that beer, I have GOT to pee. No, no I'll go alone, you finish your cigarettes.” And I slither away into the crowd towards my goal, my palms sweaty and my throat dry like sandpaper.

Margo and Kim watch me walk off and begin to turn back to their conversation about whether crop circles are legitimate or all fakes. A girl with dark, curly hair who was standing behind me during Margo, Kim and my discussion and chimes in, “I think Trevor is hot too. Too bad he's gay.”

I told myself to breath deeply and act natural. As I approached Trevor, I opened and closed my mouth like a fish gasping for breath. I closed in, about to overtake into his personal space, in a minute I would be too close to turn back, I opened my mouth and took a sharp turn to the left through the sliding glass door into the house. I walked with purpose until I encountered a wall and then I tried to stand casually and act as if I were scanning the crowd for a friend, so as not to look like the awkward chick standing alone, staring at the wall.

I found the line for the bathroom, and 20 minutes later I was staring into the mirror, encouraging myself and thanking God I had time to fix my smudged mascara before my standoff with Trevor. “Jessica, you can do it. Smile. Be charming. You're hot,” I spoke the words unconvincingly to my mirror self. I sighed, pinched my cheeks and headed back out for approach attempt number two.

Trevor was talking to who I assumed was a male friend of his, so I lingered nearby, trying not to attract attention, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and begin putting my moves on him. I was sipping on a beer I had poured myself from the keg, trying to add a little more bravery when I noticed Trevor standing alone, smoking a cigarette, with his slight smile, only one dimple peeking out on the left side. I forced my feet to carry me forward and before I knew it, he was staring questioningly into my eyes, waiting for me to speak, “...Uh, hi,” I spurted out lamely.

“Hi... do I know you?”

I could feel the blood rise to my face, making the tops of my ears burn and my heart palpate, “Oh, I'm in your psychology one oh one class? I'm Jessica? You know, I gave the report on the importance of dopamine receptors?” Everything came out a question. The red plastic cup became slippery from my sweaty palms. I fidgeted constantly, rubbing the tops of my shoes together in a nervous tic.

“Oh, ya, Jessica. Cool. So, are you enjoying the party?” He looked deep into my soul, I swear his brown eyes burned a hole in my brain, I was overtaken with an obsessive lust.

“Oh, ya. It's cool.” All the hours of practice, wasted. I tried to think of way to save myself from myself. Several moments of awkward silence followed. Trevor began to shuffle. “Do you like movies?” I gushed in one breath.

“Sure. Um, some, I guess.” Trevor's eyebrow raised and he looked at me, probably a little confused as to why I was there, but all I saw was pure adoration. He loved me, he felt the same magnetic force binding us together. We were meant to be.

I licked my chapped lips, wiped my sweaty palm on my jeans and took a quick swig of my beer then stared at my feet, “Would you, um, like to go to a movie? I mean, a movie with me? Sometime?”

I held my breath, my heart stood still a beat, I was putting myself out there, taking a risk. But he must feel the same way, I thought, we are meant to be, I mean, just look at those eyes... and that ass. The mental part of me bit my lip and smiled seductively. I gave myself a naughty inner wink.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Well, um, ya. So...” This was not going according to plan. I felt the disappointment creeping in. I'm ugly, he hates me, oh God I misread him. I wanted to back out, turn away, yet there was still a slight glimmer of hope at the the end of my tunnel, or so I thought.

“Look... Jessica, right?” I nodded. “You seem like a nice girl. But I'm not exactly interested in girls.... if you know what I mean.” I nodded. At that moment, his male friend returned and Trevor said, “See you in class!” Waved and walked away.

I stood stunned. The gears in my brain turning and grinding, processing my rejection. First came the humiliation. With rejection there is always humiliation. After the flush had worn out of my cheeks, I realized that Trevor had told me he was gay. I was so deeply enamored that I hadn't considered the possibility of him playing for the other team. I took a deep breath and a deeper swig of my beer. I shrugged inwardly and slithered back into the crowd to rejoin Margo and Kim.

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