February 21, 2015 - Stuck

My book was practically pressed to my face, but I hadn’t read a single word.

I was watching Jackie sketch.

June was cramming for the exam like a man possessed, muttering formulas under his breath and flipping through his notes as if they contained the secret to eternal life. It worked out perfectly for me. It meant Jackie had all the time in the world to draw, and I had all the time in the world to pretend I was reading while stealing glances at her from the corner of my eye-careful, measured, like looking too directly might count as a crime.

Every few strokes, she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Sometimes she smudged a line with her thumb, frowned at it, then leaned closer, head tilting as if the paper might whisper back if she listened hard enough. Sunlight slipped through the classroom windows and caught the tip of her pencil, throwing tiny flashes of light across the page. Watching her sketch always felt like plugging myself into a charger-not enough to fix anything, not even close, but just enough to keep me from shutting down completely. Enough to survive another exam, another day inside this four-walled cage we pretended was preparation for adulthood.

June eventually stopped muttering, scooted closer to her, and Jackie looked up with that soft smile-the one that used to hit me like caffeine straight to the bloodstream. Quick, warm, gone before I could brace for it.

They were happy. Annoyingly, unmistakably so.

It didn’t feel like hell anymore. Just prison again. Familiar bars. Predictable routines. I’d learned the shape of this place, learned where not to touch. Every morning I told myself the same thing: two more months. Two more months and I’d be free-from this classroom, from this daily exercise in restraint, from constantly measuring myself against the person I used to be.

While I sat out my self-imposed sentence, my friends were at least trying to live actual lives.

Kyle was desperately-almost pleading-trying to get Minnie to make things official.

Joseph was desperately-almost pleading-for literally any girl to text him back.

Mike was desperately-almost pleading-for someone to play Dota with him.

So I played Dota with Mike. That very same afternoon. It was a decent break from studying-mindless, loud, uncomplicated. Exactly what my brain needed. No history. No guilt. Just objectives and cooldowns.

Unfortunately, June and Jackie came too.

We ended up on the same team. June offered me the carry role, confidence dripping off the word, but I shook my head and declined. I wanted to lane with Mike, so I took soft support-the role Kyle usually played. Running around, setting things up, warding corners, dying so other people could shine.

Art imitates life, I thought, dryly.

Maybe that’s what growing up feels like. Realizing you’re not the main character. You’re just… there. Making space. Trying not to screw things up for everyone else.

Mid-game, my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Unknown: Hey nerd.

Me: who’s this?

Unknown: It’s Pat!

Me: Bro, you got the wrong number. i don’t know any pat.

Pat: OMG. I’m so sorry.

I smirked and put my phone down, refocusing on the match. Soft support was weirdly exhilarating-high pressure, all instinct. Mike and I darted across the map like maniacs, warding, harassing, throwing ourselves into fights if it meant June survived a little longer. Sacrificial idiots doing honest work. There was something comforting about knowing exactly what you were supposed to give up.

A minute later, my phone buzzed again.

This time, it rang.

Joseph’s name flashed on the screen.

“Al?” he said.

“What’s up, dum-dum?”

He hung up immediately.

Then another text.

Pat: YOU. ARE. AN. ASSHOLE.

I grinned.

It clicked instantly who’d given Pat my number. Joseph calling wasn’t subtle. Sherlock Holmes would’ve been proud-not exactly the case of the century, but solid detective work nonetheless.

“Al!” Mike barked.

I looked up just in time to watch my hero crumble into dust on-screen.

“You just got us wiped,” he groaned.

June exhaled sharply. Jackie’s hand paused on her mouse. Both of them turned to look at me. I mouthed a quiet sorry-small, contained, barely there. The kind of apology that didn’t ask forgiveness, just acknowledgment.

Then I turned to Mike with a grin. “Relax, bro. Champions recover.”

While waiting to respawn, I typed back.

Me: serves you right. i’m not a nerd.

Pat: Fuck you. What are you doing?

Me: dota with friends. see? not a nerd.

Pat: come to the cafe.

I didn’t need to ask which one. The café. Overly white walls that could hurt your eyes. Aggressive air-conditioning. Overpriced coffee and Wi-Fi strong enough to power a small nation. Where the cool girls migrated after school like it was sacred ground.

Me: can i bring mike, june, and jackie?

Pat: of course.

I nudged Mike with my elbow. “You guys wanna hang out with Pat and her friends?”

He didn’t even glance over. “After we win.”

Fair. We had a massive gold lead. No way we were throwing this.

I noticed June had gone very quiet. Listening. His face lit up in a way that made everything obvious-he liked the idea of being near the cool girls, liked the idea of being seen near them. I ignored it.

Of course… we lost.

When we wrapped up and paid for computer time-the sacred loser-pays rule-we grabbed a cab to the café. Mike glared at me the entire ride. June did too, though I didn’t particularly care what he thought.

Jackie…

I didn’t look.

I didn’t trust my face to behave.

The café was buzzing. The cool girls had claimed the biggest table like royalty staking territory-bags draped over chairs, iced coffee sweating onto white tabletops, bracelets chiming every time someone laughed too hard. It was chaos, but curated chaos. Perfume hung in the air, sweet and expensive, layered over roasted coffee and recycled cold air-conditioning that made my arms prickle.

Pat spotted me first. She waved big and unapologetic, confidence spilling everywhere, then scooted over like she’d been saving the seat all along.

Even back in class, when they’d started hovering near my orbit, I mostly ignored them. The cool girls were the kind of people you saw and immediately assumed had been born into a higher social tier-effortlessly loud, effortlessly pretty, effortlessly certain of their place in the world. Mike, somehow, fit right in. He recognized a couple of them from grade school and even high-fived one. I swear I saw her blush, which briefly made me wonder if I’d slipped into an alternate universe where Mike was the main character and I was just the comic relief.

Once I sat down, though, the intimidation cracked. They weren’t untouchable gods. Just girls-chatty, opinionated, messy in a way that somehow worked. Pat made sure we all weren’t left orbiting the edges, pulling us into conversations, translating gossip like a tour guide shepherding the socially lost.

They talked about teachers-who hated who, who was sleeping with who, who was absolutely getting fired next year. Names flew fast, jokes piled on top of each other, laughter bursting out in sharp, overlapping waves. It sounded like music if you didn’t try too hard to understand the lyrics.

Mike and I mostly nodded. Mike’s fingers tapped the table like he was itching for a keyboard, already halfway back in Dota. Jackie didn’t talk much, but she listened intently. She smiled at the right moments, laughed softly, eyes bright with curiosity, like she was collecting pieces for later. June, meanwhile, looked like he’d ascended. He laughed a little too loud, leaned a little too close, asked questions like he was filing paperwork for permanent membership.

Pat noticed when my eyes glazed over. Names were never my thing-especially not when my self-esteem was scraping rock bottom and my social circle consisted almost entirely of the same three idiots. She leaned in every time my face betrayed confusion, whispering quick clarifications into my ear like stage directions I’d missed.

I noticed something else, too.

Every now and then, Jackie glanced our way. Not openly-just quick flickers. Like she wasn’t sure what she was checking for. When Pat laughed too loud or leaned a little closer, Jackie’s eyes steeled and she seemed to be overly focusing on the person talking.

Probably nothing. Probably my imagination. Still-I noticed.

At one point, one of the girls pointed between Pat and me. “If you two get any closer, you’re gonna start kissing.”

I froze. I hadn’t realized how close Pat was—her shoulder pressed into my chest, her voice low as she whispered gossip straight into my ear. I jerked back like I’d been shocked.

Pat smirked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Despite myself, I managed to ask with a smirk, “Do I look gay to you?”

To my absolute horror, almost all of them tilted their heads at once. Pat’s laugh cracked through the moment, loud and sharp, shattering the tension before it could finish killing me. The table erupted.

“I’m not gay,” I added quickly. “Just… for future reference.”

Pat laughed so hard she nearly tipped sideways, hair falling over her face. I laughed too, helplessly. She was radiant-confident, loud, pretty in a way that filled the room without asking permission.

And then, mid-laugh, I saw Jackie.

She wasn’t laughing. She was wearing that curious little smile she always had-the one that didn’t quite settle.

It was subtle. Easy to miss. But something in her posture had tightened, shoulders drawing in just a little. As always, she turned away. I still couldn’t look at her for more than a second when she wasn’t sketching, like my eyes knew better than I did.

My head went a thousand miles an hour, chasing meanings that never stayed put. Wondering if it meant something. If it ever meant anything. Every time I tried to interact with Jackie, I ended up humiliating myself. That thought slammed down like a door, blocking everything else. Why would this be different? Why would she see me as anything other than a loser she tolerated because I existed nearby?

I exhaled slowly.

I was tired. Bone-tired. Fed up with my own stupid brain running marathons in circles. Maybe it was just a bad day. Maybe it was the Dota loss. But I’d never felt more pathetic than I did in that moment, surrounded by noise and laughter and the very thing I’d convinced myself I wasn’t allowed to want.

I turned back to Pat.

She was everything she appeared to be-smart, funny, magnetic. Anyone would be lucky. Including me. Especially me.

Is this what karma wanted? I wondered. Maybe it finally felt bad for me. Maybe it nudged something into my path and said, Here, idiot. A real person. Not a book. Not the strays you feed. Not the almost-creepy habit of watching someone from afar. Take it.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Pat was already looking at me. Her smile widened, warm and expectant.

I smiled back-but it felt heavier than it should’ve.

We stayed at the café a long time. Long enough for the noise to blur into a constant hum. Long enough for the ice in our drinks to melt into cloudy puddles no one bothered to finish.

When it was finally time to leave, I waited. I was grateful Jackie and June left immediately. The rest of the group lingered, saying their goodbyes in overlapping waves.

Then I tapped Pat’s shoulder.

She turned. “What’s up?”

“The chocolate,” I said. My voice came out quieter than I meant. “That was yours, wasn’t it?”

She blinked, then snorted. “Jesus, Al. Wasn’t it obvious?”

In retrospect, it was. The ridiculous laugh when I re-hid it. The way she’d looked at me before we left Minnie’s. I’d just needed to hear it out loud.

“That was meant for me,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

She punched my shoulder—light, but pointed. “Yes.” Her cheeks were pink. Actually pink.

I swallowed. My hands felt stupid. Too big. Too visible. “Okay. Um.” I let out a breath. “So-this is gonna sound awkward.”

“That’s kind of your brand,” she said, smiling-but there was curiosity there now. Real attention.

“D’ya-wanna-go-out-wit-me?” I blurted, the words tripping over each other on the way out.

In the corner of my eye, something moved. It was dark outside, reflections smearing the glass, but for a split second it looked like a dog lingering near the curb. I shook my head and focused back on Pat as she regarded me, tilting her head with a grin.

“Um,” I added quickly, panicking because of course I did. “Tomorrow?”