Meant To Be

They hadn’t been talking all that long, it had honestly started as a bit of a joke. She was a little tipsy and bored and reckless. She is always trying to find that piece of life that won’t leave her feeling weird or miserable. She lives for the laughs of others, that kind of thing. 

 She had seen him over the years, and she found him unbelievably annoying. He literally never stopped talking. He was so impossibly full of information, too much for one person in one lifetime. A part of her found this endearing but mostly irritating. He did not notice her at all. He knew of her; she was almost sure but didn’t have any opinion on her. She was irrelevant to him, which was understandable. He had no reason to think of her ever, but this upset her because she longed brutally for others attention and approval, as sick as it is. Why hadn’t he remembered her name or when she sat behind him in that one class when she had remembered so well? 

 She had many preconceived notions about him. Mainly that he was a big know-it-all, who loved the sound of his own voice. That he was one of those guys who think offensive jokes are oh-so funny. That he was mean and would probably be mean to her. The kind of guy who hates women and constantly speaks down to them. And in a way, he was a lot of those things. She is still not sure if only talks down to women or everyone. 

 Here is what she found out about him; he is nervous. He has a lot of friends and that made her very nervous. He can be really nice and even considerate. Even if he made her feel so dumb in too many ways sometimes. He is funny. He’s good at things, in a way that made her hate him a little. 

 She liked talking to him, despite the preconceived notions and what her friends were saying about him. So, she invited him out with them, and she wasn’t sure he would say yes; she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. He showed up and she was embarrassed. 

 She thought he looked–well, that he looked nice. Her eyes felt so heavy when she would look at him and his falling hair. He had on this jacket and in retrospect, she believes it had to have been that stupid jacket. Who their age even owns a jacket like that? He didn’t have to look so nice when he was supposed to be some hideous, evil creature that would haunt her high school nightmares. Why couldn’t he have stayed that?

 They went out, and he talked a lot. She tried desperately for him to keep his attention focused on her. She was too loud, and she didn’t sound how she thought she had in her head. He was making her miserable, and he had no idea. He talked like he didn’t care if he anyone was actually listening to him. He was good at talking but not at conversations. It must have been the way he carried himself then. The way he smiled like a mad man. The way his eyes stared so intensely into the other persons that it went from endearing to horrifying. But she liked it. When others turned away, she kept hers locked on his. This meant nothing to him.

 When it was over, they walked about in the cool damp night. He did stupid things so one person would laugh at him, and it wasn’t her. She still laughed for him, though. They walked into a store, and she had wanted him to follow her, speak to her and come scarily close so that she’d have no choice but to step back. Because she’d be too afraid of what he might do. He strayed off instead. Eventually they lost the rest of the group and then, they were alone. He walked out through the sliding doors, and she felt increasingly more alive. She followed him and he walked away from her. The cars brought the sloshing rain up from their puddles. Except for that, the world felt perfectly silent and still. She felt like he was avoiding her and maybe he was. Maybe he sensed her growing compassion for him. She followed him, why should she not? They were friends now; they could certainly say that couldn’t they? He kept his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the wall, and she stood right in front of him. That move in particular is what started the jumping in her chest. She looked at him for what she felt was the very first time that night. She had seen him, but not like this. Not in the moonlight and not in that jacket and God, how did she not notice his hair before? He said something that made her feel bad, but she guesses he was only joking. When he looked at her, she felt every cell in her body light up. Every hair stood on end and her heart felt inexplicably full. It had never, ever been full before. When her friends came out, she joked that she thought she may have just fallen in love with the boy they all hated. Maybe she wasn't in love, but she was something. Something that would turn into something sinister. 

 The real kicker is that he didn’t feel it too.

 When she got home. She listened to music that helped her stay in that moment on the wall. How dare he lean!? And look so good while doing it!? It was honestly despicable. As she was undressing, her phone lit up suddenly. He thanked her for the night. He told her Happy Birthday and she felt like something magical was happening. It was him, God of course it was him. She was thankful in that moment that it was him. Ha, if only she knew. Because of that night, because she was persistent and nosy and because she liked him and his stupid, stupid jacket. He told her about her.

 He liked someone. And it wasn’t her.

 It was her friend. Her friend he had been texting longer but never spoke to. Who, that whole night he never even glanced at. They had no leaning on wall moment. He made sense with her. All of her friends thought so, but God isn’t that insane? He didn’t know what he had done by telling her that. The deep weeping wound he had left on her heart. She told this friend that she liked him, and she made fun of her for it, God him?

 So of course, she liked him too.

 But she wasn’t going to think about it or him because she had no right to. He doesn’t and he will not want her. Something in their relationship shifted after that and she couldn’t get it to feel right again. Maybe it was her bitterness or his obliviousness. Maybe his idiocy and the way he spoke to her. It wasn’t a friendship, really. They couldn’t be lovers and they couldn’t be friends. She wondered what it was all for then?

 They told her he would leave just as quickly as he came but she had prayed that they were wrong. Of course, they weren’t.

 He should’ve been what he was supposed to be for her! Why couldn’t he see her right in front of him? Why didn’t he feel it when their arms touched, and their legs brushed? She is right in front of him.

 She really didn’t know him all that well. I mean what right did she have to feel such a way about him, really? She wasn’t sure how justified she could feel about it all, she didn’t know if it was her muddled brain that made it all seem so inconsequential. Because it really hurt. 

 Him liking her, hurt. Her liking him back hurt. What really hurt, what killed her is that he never even humoured the idea of her. That she never had a chance and that she never would. That she felt this kismet intense and insane thing and he had no idea. She felt humiliated. 

 She had never wanted anybody like this before, not in this way. He was exactly the way she imagined her person to be in her head, flaws and all. And yet, she wasn’t that for him. And she never, ever would be. She had this feeling they could’ve been something really great and she hates that it won’t happen. It would’ve been so very perfect, but he didn’t see her. It was going to be something so right. It all fit together so right. She brought him around, but he was there for her. She was only a lucky twist of fate for him to build up his nerve.

 Her friend had no reason not to be with him and she would’ve told her so, if she had ever asked. They hardly talked about it once and never again. No heads up, no nothing.

 So, she watched them together. She watched their sweet, awkward embraces and that freshness of new love that makes a person sick with butterflies.

 Why hadn’t he felt it? God.

 That pain she felt, would be everlasting. She would feel it deep in her core and let it wash through her veins and out with each compressing breath she took. Why had she felt such a strange thing for someone who would never see her like that? She felt like he was the one for her. Almost. Or not. She doesn’t know and she never will.

 She’s alone again. This time she couldn’t crush on someone new to get over it. Nobody was him. He was never hers. It was like how they were before they knew one another. Whatever they had been building had been lost.