Promise to Love (Chapter 1)

        The road was wet, and due to that, so were my shoes. My new shoes. What was I even doing out here? Wandering around stupidly, that's what. I wasn't even sure where I was, but I knew I'd end up at his house eventually. It was inevitable and necessary.

       I hadn't meant to hurt him, but looking back, how could I have done that and not thought it would hurt him? But it really shouldn't have hurt him. I mean, I had done things just like it several times before. Only this time instead of the annoyed, angry look I was accustomed to, he had flashed me an offended,scarred look that made me feel like a heartless witch. Maybe I had been reading him wrong this whole time. All those playful annoyed looks he had given me had really been offense and now he just couldn't take it anymore?

       I pulled my hood tighter over my hair. I was definitely going to eat crow tonight.

* * *

One week earlier.

      “As you all know, this is normally the day you would all be receiving your 'babies', but since they seem to have been 'misplaced', I will not be handing them out today.”

      The entire classroom erupted in exclamations of joy. No one had wanted to carry those plastic noise makers around for two days. So, although I didn't really care for the method, I wasn't surprised someone had finally done something about it.

      The teacher continued, “And because we have absolutely no idea where they are,” he looked at Mark and Lance, who everybody and their dog knew had stolen them, but due to lack of evidence remained innocent, “you could very well go the whole semester without receiving them. So, I am still going to assign you to your 'spouses'. You'll just have to pretend you chose to not have children,” he mumbled to himself, “which is probably more accurate anyway.”

      Lori leaned across the isle to whisper, “Dibs on Corbin.”

     “As long as I get Jack.”

     Meg piped into our conversation, “You're both insane. The only real man in this room is Kevin.”

     We weren't very good whisperers and were in a wretched spot close to the front, so, Mr Webb interrupted us, “I know you giggling trio are most anxious to find out who your new husbands are, but you should probably listen to the requirements before calling dibs on whoever you find most attractive,” He shot for embarrassment, but we just held true to our name and giggled, so he ignored us, “You will have three things you have to complete for this assignment. You will need to have accomplished the daily acts of service given to you in class, go on at least one formal date with each other, and spend a significant amount of time with each other out side of school. You will need a minimum of three hours to pass. If you want an A, you better make it five. Your date does not count for part of these hours, but phone calls do.”

     He went through the rest of the details with the same speed and disinterest. You could tell he hopped we all ended up as miserable in our marriages as he was in his.

     “Mr. Webb,” Lori raised her hand, “what if we are out of town this weekend?”

     “I have taken that into account, that is why you have an entire week to complete this assignment.”

     “He makes it sound like we have a year,” I commented.

     Meg drummed her fingers on her desk, “It very well could be depending on who we're put with.”

     The butterflies in my stomach testified to that. I don't think there were any boys in the class I would be scared to be put with, but there were a few that spending more then twenty minutes with could result in their untimely death. I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could tell who Jack was hoping to be put with, instead I made awkward eye contact with him, which made my face go red, but also gave me hope.

     The teacher pulled a stack of papers out of his desk, “I used the 'What I want in a spouse' surveys you took at the beginning of this unit to pair you up. So if you don't like who your with, it's your fault.”

     The pile of paper seemed to hold more power then any I had yet to see. The list that could swing our pendulums of happiness completely opposite directions depending on who's name was written next to each of ours. Lori crossed her fingers under her desk, Meg wrapped her lucky necklace around her pinky, and I sat completely still as my stomach fluttered about.

     For half of a second, the room went completely still as Mr. Webb took a breath to read off the first couple, “Max Gins and Mary Long.”

    The three of us simultaneously relaxed and then tensed up again as he read the next two names.

    “James Line and Caitlin Johnson, Adam Rolling and Jane Bowler, Lori Swan and Corbin Long...”

    “Yes!” Lori immediately turned to Corbin waving unashamedly at him. He was the type of flirt that mischievously winked back.

    “...Kevin Sandburge and Kylie Fisher, Megan Rowlings and Kevin Lineman...”

    “Whoo!” Megan's practically jumped out of her seat and then immediately hung her head in embarrassment because of it. She was bright red, but she still had an excited smile on her face.

     I was shocked that both my best friends had managed to score getting their dream men. Please be Jack. Please be Jack. Please, Please be Jack.

    “...Carly Draper and Trent Bates.”

    My dreams crashed to the ground. Trent? That's not even close to Jack. Why cruel world? I immediately felt bitter that I couldn't share in my friends happiness as they both gave me sympathetic looks.

    Wait, Trent? Trent Bates? I was so fixated on the fact my partner wasn't Jack I hadn't realized just who my partner was. I slowly turned around in my seat searching for the face I knew all too well. He was sitting in the back corner next to a couple of his basketball buddies. He was tan, with light blond hair and blue eyes so deep it was unnerving if not insanely attractive. He was more on the quite side, but that didn't stop dozens of girls from liking him. He turned his head to find me, when our stares met he didn't look excited.

    And I knew why. This should have been a great moment for me, but one little detail kind of ruined it.

    Trent Bates hated me.  

Stopping Jane

Title: Stopping Jane

Plot#: none

Date: Junior year high school for Creative Writing class

Jane was the perfect name for my sister. I don’t know how my parents knew they should call her that, but it’s perfect. Jane is the epitome of polite, proper and responsible.

I was not Jane. I was the opposite of Jane. You’d think that with our vast differences we would have a lot of problems getting along, but we didn’t. We were best friends. We told each other everything and if and when our differences came out too strong, such as Jane disapproving of my behavior or me telling her to live a little and take some risks, I simply ignored her and she politely listened to the advice and then never followed it. So you can imagine that I had long ago gotten used to Jane’s, what I considered overly good ways, and wouldn’t bother to object.
At this moment, that was not the case.
            “A nun?!”
            “Yes.”
            I stared at my sister in complete disbelief. How could she possibly consider being a nun? That would mean never speaking too loud, constantly crossing herself, never looking at a boy again and being even more uptight and subdue then perfect Jane already was.
            “Dad thinks I should consider it. He told me I don’t really have many other options right now. He’s right too. I can’t afford to move out or go to college. I can't stay here for long though.”
            “Jane,” I walked over to the bed and sat next to her, “You’re only twenty-one. It’s not like your some forty-year-old with twenty cats living in your parent’s basement. You have plenty of options.”

She shrugged, “I’m not so sure anymore. This isn’t the first time Dad’s brought up the subject. I’m beginning to think our parents are getting sick of me living here.”

“Correction, Dad is getting sick of you living here. And that’s not even totally correct. Dad isn’t sick of you being here, he’s just sick of everyone at church asking him what his daughter is going to do with her life. Especially Miss Blazzard, because we all know she is one of the most persistent gossips-“

“Florinda,” she knew to stop me when my speaking started speeding up, “I think we both need to face the reality that whether or not people talk, Dad and Mom are disappointed I have yet to make something of my life. I thought about it for a while and I really think a nunnery is my best choice.”
            “But a nun-“
            “It would make Dad very happy.”
            Our family was catholic. And by catholic, I mean catholic. Dad was the head preacher of our small town and was practically an icon for his opportunity to meet the Pope. The main décor or our house was angel statues and paintings of the crucifixion (death and damnation were common subjects in our house). My father would read the bible out loud every night for an hour (one of the reasons I was frequently ‘too busy to be home at nine’) and in order to have true respect from my parents, especially dad, I had to read the bible for at least twenty minutes every morning (I learned the hiding-the-smaller-book-you-are-actually-reading-behind-the-big-book-the-watching-aldult-thinks-your-reading trick very quickly).
            “What about you?” I challenged my sister, “Would you be happy wearing black and living in an old church with other lonely women for the rest of your life?”
            She just stared at me, “What’s not to love about a life devoted to God?”

                                                                        * * *

            I couldn't stand to stay in that house. So, after a failed attempt to get Mom to persuade Jane to make a different decision, I stormed out the door, slamming it behind me.

It was now apparent that Jane was not going to listen to me. Fine. I'd just make her change her mind. Before three years ago, I had been a rather shy girl, due to the heaviness of my home. That's when I made friends with Daniel.

Daniel has been my best friend since third grade. Dad didn't want me to be friends with him at first, since he's Mexican (well his heritage is Mexican. He, however, is an all American baseball player/ apple pie lover), not to say that my Dad is racist, but he had heard a lot of stories of Latino gangs and he instantly assumed Daniel would be a bad influence on me. Of course, Daniel had the opposite effect, pulling me out of my foreclosure shell and giving me some personality.

So it's no wonder that I practically ran to the park, where I knew he would be, working on his pitch or something, to vent this exasperating situation.

“A nun?”

“I know, it’s ridiculous.”

He tossed his baseball up and down in the air, “That's a bit extreme. Even for Jane.”

“Exactly, so I need your help.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't know yet.”

“Did you try talking to her?” I just looked at him, “Never mind. That was a stupid question.”

“Wait!” I snatched the ball midair, “I've got it.”

* * *

Daniel fidgeted uncomfortably on the hard bench. He didn't come to church very often,

“Why am I here again?”

“Your helping me find the perfect guy,” He was still confused, “For my sister.”

"Oh, that's right. One of your sisters few options is marriage. Anything’s better than the monastery right?"

"That's not the only thing it will accomplish."

“Okay, wait, you’re trying to keep your sister from pledging to a life of solitude by setting her up with someone?”

I rolled my eyes, “I'm impressed Danny, you catch on quickly."

He just fidgeted in his seat, probably praying for his chance to leave. I turned around in my bench watching the doors open and close as people walked in. I know waiting for Mr. Perfect to walk into the church probably wasn't the most effective strategy, but I didn't know where else to start. Most of the men that walked through the door weren't even worthy candidates, let alone 'the one'. Finally a guy about Jane's age walked in, and I know you can only tell so much from just looking at them, but he didn't strike me as her type. No wonder Jane wasn't already married, this place was desolate when it came to worthwhile men.

Daniel interrupted my searching, “Are you sure your sister is even serious about this whole thing?”

“Serious?” I turned to look at him, “Jane spent all day yesterday putting her things in boxes since my Dad already got in touch with a monastery in Maryland and they have a spot open for her,” I stared him in the eyes, disappointed he didn't already know this, “my family is the epitome of serious.”

He nodded, “So that means you’re serious too, about this whole matchmaking thing, that is.”

I sighed, watching the doors again, “I've never been more determined to get someone married in my life.”

I didn't pay attention to any of the service. I was continually looking around pondering the practicality of different guys. I noticed one boy sitting near the back, who looked to be Jane's age. I thought he was pretty good looking and by the way he was watching Jane chorister the hymn, I'd say he thought the same of her.

Daniel was a good sport and stayed with me, but after an hour long repentance sermon from my dad (who frequently looked at my friend when referring to a sinner) I showed mercy on him and let him leave during the closing hymn.

                                                                        * * *


            Jane was driving me home from school one day, taking it at the speed limit, as Jane always did. I was staring out the window still looking for worthy candidates. A cop was walking down the side walk towards his car. He was cute and the right age...

            “Jane, what's that!?” I pointed dramatically towards nothing in particular on the other side of the street. She instinctively looked and I grabbed the steering wheel yanking it in the opposite direction. We both started screaming as Jane had to dramatically over correct the car to keep it from hitting pedestrians. Jane slammed the brakes and we skidded to a precarious stop.

            The young officer immediately came running towards us.

            “Florinda!” Jane turned on me, “what in heaven's name did you do that for!?”

            The officer appeared in her window before I could answer, “Mam are you all right?”

            “I'm sorry officer, my sister...” she looked over at me and looked confused as to why I was smiling. She looked back at the rather good looking police man and back to me again. A light bulb switched on as her face went bright red.

            “You sure you're alright, mam?”

            Jane was still having her epiphany so I jumped in, “Our car tends to malfunction a lot, sir. It just scares her sometimes when it does.”

            He looked worried, “Oh, well is there anything I can do for you? Are you sure you want to keep driving this thing?”

            “No,” Jane answered this time, “we're fine. We can manage, although we appreciate the offer.”

            He didn't look to sure, but he didn't really have a reason to hold us either, so he just nodded, “Alright, if you're sure.”

            He stepped away and Jane took off down the road. She waited till the officer was out of site before she pulled over, glaring at me.

            “Florinda Clair Stevenson! You stop this ridiculous matchmaking, or so help me I will stop it for you!”

            “Jane, the car had a malfunction. Relax, I'm not trying to set you up,” I rolled my eyes.

            Dang it, she was on to me.

                                                            * * *

            Jane wasn't one to hold grudges, but I even she had a hard time letting go of the anger this time. I had attempted once again to hook her up when we were at the library the next day. Apparently guys didn't find having their books strewn across the floor as romantic as I did.

            So Jane stayed mad at me until the next Sunday, when she tried to make peace. I was sitting in the empty church watching the sun shine through the stained glass windows.
            Jane sat down next to me, “Hey.”
            “Hey.”
            She cleared her throat, “I know you’re not happy about my leaving-”
            I held up my hand, “If you are referring to that ludicrous event that is supposedly soon to come, unless all the members of our family suddenly see the light, I don't wish to talk about it right now,” I couldn't. I'd start crying.
            We sat there in an awkward silence until someone interrupted us.
            A guy walked into the church whistling to himself. He seemed embarrassed when we looked up interrupted, “Sorry, I was just looking for the St. Christians church meeting. I was told they start at nine.”

Jane stood up, “We are scheduled to start at nine, but in this small town everyone is at least a half hour late.”
            He smiled, “Sounds like my home town,” He squinted looking closer at my sister, “Jane? Jane Stevenson?”

            She seemed surprised, “Jack?”

            He laughed, “Long time no see,”

            They both hugged like two long lost best friends.

            All I could think was ding ding ding, we have a winner.

                                                                        * * *

            Today was going to be a good day, I could feel it. Jane was supposed to leave for Maryland in two days, but she and Jack had been spending every day together for the last week and something told me that Jane wasn't going to go so willingly with the new relationship in her horizon.
            So you could say I was on some sort of version of cloud nine, since I felt rather accomplished in the success of my mission. Not that I really could take credit for Jack happening to appear and them happening to know each other already, but it made me feel better to take the credit anyway. Jane had been talking about the Nunnery less and less, despite Dad's protests against her spending time with a boy right before she's headed to life as a Nun. That was about as close to rebelling as you got when it came to Jane.Part of me was still worried though, since she had yet to officially announce she wasn't going to Maryland anymore.
            I was curled up in the rocking chair on our front porch, thinking all of this when Jane came running up the front walk.
            I looked up from my book, “How was your date?”
            She ignored me, running through the front door into the house.
            Oh no.

                                                                        * * *

            “He asked you to stay?”

Jane sat on her bed on the verge of tears, “He said he couldn't bear to lose me again.”

“I don't understand. What do you mean again?”

            She sniffled, “Can I tell you a secret?” my ears perked up, “When I was going to Madison High in Maryland Jack and I...dated. Exclusively.”

            I nearly fell off the bed. Jane had gone out with someone behind mom and dad's back? That wasn't just Jane level rebellion that was normal level rebellion.

            “So, why didn't you say yes?”

            “How could I? Dad has gone through so much trouble making arrangements for me to go to the monastery and it's all he ever talks about, he's so happy. Mom can't get over it either,” she sighed, “Also, Jack and I didn't just break up because I was moving. Jack was a lot of fun, but he always had trouble when it came to taking our relationship seriously. What if I stay and he just ends up leaving again? Should I really throw away a solid future for something that could fall through, just like all my other plan since graduation have?”

“Do you love him?”

            She looked surprised by the question. She started crying instead of answering me.

                                                                        * * *

            The air was wet and the sky gray. It perfectly matched the mood I was in, as well as Jane. The family was all standing outside on the driveway, loading Jane's week old packed bags into the car. I was still outraged she was going and she was still depressed because she was being pulled between two factions.

Dad, however, was practically jumping for joy, “Who would have thought I'd have a daughter who wanted to devote her life to God so fully?” He spoke as if she'd saved the world.
I had to bite my lip to keep from saying something snide as I climbed into the car. We drove in relative silence to the train station. It started pouring rain and the dirt roads began to get muddy.
The car was silent when I heard someone's muffled yelling from the road. I turned around to see Jack running after us down the middle of the road, “Um, Jane.”

            She turned around as Dad looked in his rear view mirror, “What in heaven’s name is he doing?”

Jane looked more surprised than either of us, “Pull over Dad. Dad, pull over!”

She jumped out of the car into the pouring rain, “Jack? What are you doing?”

I poked my head out the window to watch the whole thing. Jack was soaking wet, panting with water streaming down his face. He looked as if he had just figured out everything that was wrong and was determined to fix it.

“Jane,” he stood straight, but his hands were shaking, “I don't care if you want to 'devote your life to God'. I want you here with me.”

Jane looked defiant, “Jack I can't throw away a solid future for a future that's only a maybe.”

“Then trade it for a solid one,” he then made that moment movie perfect by kissing her right there in the rain. Dad's head looked like it was about to explode. I wanted to start clapping.
            “Marry me?”
            I assume her kiss meant yes.

I'm on Wattpad.com :)

I have this problem with sharing my stories with people. I think the only person who's read even little parts of my stories in the recent years is my sister, and that was just so she could grammar check it. I took a creative writing class last year and that was actually the hardest part: letting people read my work. I'm super self conscious about it. These stories are totally from my inner thoughts and feeling, so letting people read them is totally putting myself out there.
But here is my predicament: taking that class was really helpful and having people critique my work was really effective, not to mention you can only write so many stories before you just HAVE to have someone read it because you're dying to know if it's any good. But I'm still scared. That is why I have a pen name and why I simply stick them on a blog hoping some random person will read them.
That isn't really working. Not that I think this blog is a waste. It's a good place to store all my stories and I can do Blog-to-Print for a really nice printed record, but audience wise, this blog doesn't do much.
But, recently I discovered this site called Wattpad and it's where a bunch of people upload their stories and you read and comment and can even vote for them. I like reading random stories on there sometimes.And then it occurred to me to put one of my own stories on there. I have like a billion different stories and none of them are even closed to being finished, but this site has you upload it chapter by chapter so you don't have to have it all written when you upload it! This is perfect for me! I also like it because all of the stories on there are completely amateur and some of them aren't even really written that well, which makes it significantly less intimidating.
So I uploaded the first part of my Treasure Island story on there! I still use my pen name, but I feel like this a place where I can actually get people to read it. So far, no one has, but it's only been there for a couple of days and it's only two pages so far. I need to add more and then I need to get involved in the 'community' of that site and get people to read it.
I'm so hopeful! I think this is a really good way to get people to read my stories without them having to know who I actually am.
Which brings up another point. I know writers aren't weird, and I don't think enjoying writing is dorky, but you have to confess that most of the people who are hard core amateur writers who upload on sites like Wattpad and come up with all these random stories.....tend to be really odd people.
I don't want to be odd.
I really don't want to end up being one of those writers who just comes up with random odd stories that are poorly written and just uploads on writing social sites, pretending they are going to publish some day, but are never nearly that good.
REALLY don't want to end up being one of those people.
In the writing class I took, the teacher read one of my short stories and told me it was really well written. Not just a being nice 'this is a good story', but he actually seemed impressed with my level of writing and even highlighted some phrases and said they were really good.
I guess the point I'm trying to get at is that I believe I have a natural knack for writing and that if I really work at it, I could publish someday. Sure my grammar is terrible and sometime I forget and leave out details, but overall my plots make sense and are interesting (according to friends I have shared story ideas with) and my character developed and details are particularly strong.
I CAN WRITE.
So that's why I am uploading stories onto Wattpad. Not because I want to become one of those odd writing network people, but I want to get better and I have to start somewhere.
Wish me luck.

Starla

Title: Starla

Plot # 22

Written: Jan 2010 

“Whoohoo!” my laughter echoed through the air as I soared by on the newly made star, “Rosalina this star is amazing!”

“Yes, Starla,” My aunt was standing on the ground watching me try out her latest design, “and I would appreciate it if you avoided the buildings and save the stunts for when it’s not your first time flying it!”

I steered back towards her and landed, “This is defiantly your best invention yet.”

She pulled the star out of my hands smiling, “Thank you, but you realize that is what you always say about my inventions.”

“Because it true!” I threw my hands in the air for emphasis, “all your inventions are incredible, and the next one is always better then the last.”

She smiled but I could tell she wasn’t convinced, “It is very maneuverable but,” she pressed a button on the top and the large metal board shrank into a ball of light the size of a lemon. She held it up to her face like she was examining it with new eyes, “it doesn’t have a very long range. It can only go a couple of galaxies before it looses its connection and dies.”

A couple of galaxies? “Sounds long range to me.”

She laughed like that was funny, “well yes, to you,” she said it like I was five and still thought unicorns existed, “but when you’re traveling the entire universe, a couple of galaxies isn’t very far.”

“True,” I took the light from her hands, “but as you can see, I’m not traveling the universe, so I say it is long range; making it your best invention yet.”

She rolled her eyes, “Some day you’ll invent something twice that powerful and wonder why you ever praised me.”

I had to think about how to respond to that one. Aunt Rose was always modest, but that comment was almost insulting. I wondered for the millionth time why she had been so critical lately, “well until then,” I hugged her neck trying to squeeze the sarcasm out, “you’re still the best inventor I know.”

She just hugged me back, not bothering to argue. She knew as well as I that I wasn’t an easy person to sway.

* * *

       “Stella, if you wouldn’t mind…” I jumped up to keep my papers from flying across the room as my morph star whizzed into the library. She changed from her star shape into a six-inch version of me. The mini-me walked across the table making her usual tinkling sound.

       “What else would I be doing besides studying constellations?”

        She made another tinkling nose and I blushed, “I’m not always thinking about Jack. I concentrate when I need to.” I stood up from my chair and walked over to a shelf.

        The library wasn’t very big. Well, considering the size of the observatory it was on; plus it was an observatory so you’d think that the library would be a key point in the structure, but no. still it was a pretty good size and had over five-thousand books, so it still made it hard to find things.

       My eyes scanned up and down the shelf, “Do you remember where Aunt Rose keeps her nebula books?”

       Stella made her “beats me” sound.

       “Of course you wouldn’t know,” I bit my tongue. Apparently I hadn’t squeezed the sarcasm out of Rose, but sucked it into myself. I turned around to see Stella, now a flame, blackening the edges of my papers, “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. I’ve been studying for hours and I still can’t figure out this galaxy.”

       Quick to forgive, she turned back into mini-me and flew over to help me search.

       It took us about ten minutes to find the nebula books, but it wasn’t much help, since as soon as I sat back down at the table I suddenly remembered this galaxy didn’t even have nebulas.

      “Ugh!” I banged my head against my useless pile of books, “This is hopeless!”

      Stella gave me an encouraging tinkle, but I just shrugged it off, staring at my books mindlessly.

      “You know,” a voice came from the door way, “I hear you get a lot more out of the book if you actually open it.”

      A tall boy stood in the doorway, about a year older then me. He was wearing kaki shorts and a stripped polo that brought out his blue eyes. His sandy spiked hair and gorgeous smile made him just about the most attractive boy alive.

      My mood immediately lightened and I jumped up from the table, “Jack!” I ran across the room.

      He laughed as he swept me into a hug and spun me around.

     “What are you doing here?” I asked when he finally, but regrettably, put me down, “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another two weeks?”

      He shrugged, “Change of plans.” I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

      Stella mad a sort of ‘attention please’ noise and flew over to us.

      “Who’s this?” Jack asked.

      “Oh, that’s right; you haven’t met Stella have you?” Jack and I hung out a lot, but we were usually planet searching. He hadn’t really spent that much time on the observatory. “This is my morph star.” I motioned to the bird perched on my shoulder.

      “A morph star?”

      “Yeah, we have a lot of them here. They are originally light stars, but they can change into whatever shape they want. She likes birds for some reason, but she usually changes into a mini-me when I’m around.”     

       As if to illustrate that point she changed into that shape.

       Jack flashed his gorgeous smile, “Cool. Can she do me?”

      “She could, but she won’t,” he looked at Stella with mock offense and I laughed, “I’ve yet to get her to change into anything male or ugly.”

       He seemed fascinated by that, “Why?”

       I shrugged, “My theory is what they morph into, to them, is like what we wear to us. A girl star would never change into a spider and a boy star would never change into a daisy. Just like you would never wear a dress and I would never wear baggy shorts.”

       “He nodded, “That makes sense.”

       “Not to mention,” I leaned towards him and whispered, “Stella tends to be a little more vain then the rest.”

       Jack laughed and Stella turned into a flame again, making me jump.

Two Spies

Title:(unknown)

Written: Oct.4^th 2010 (typed Nov.20^th)

Plot# (none)

       The air was just cold enough to cause discomfort, but not enough to make me shiver. The sound of my car door shutting seemed like a bang and my shoes seemed to cause echos off the asphalt onto the trees.

I could see his silhouette on a bench next to the playground. Given the hour of night and the abandoned park, this should have been a very freaky situation, but surprisingly I wasn't scared. I wasn't frightened at all; which is usually an emotion that comes easily to me. But I was definitely nervous.

        Once I got close enough, he stood up from the bench smiling, “Hello Clarissa.”

        “Hello, Shaun.”

        There was a good yard or two between us and he started to walk towards me, “I didn't think you would come.”

        That makes two of us, “I couldn't exactly not come.”

        He smiled, “Very true.”

        I stood there uncomfortably waiting for him to say something else. I never knew how to act around Shaun. We had known each other almost our whole lives and considering all the things we'd been through and the type of relation we'd had, we should have been enemies, but for some weird reason we weren't.

It made it even more awkward with the fact that he, for some unexplainable reason, was completely in love with me. I didn't even really view him as a friend, but he saw me almost as a potential wife. He was well aware of the fact that I wasn't a big fan of him, due to past decisions he had made, but that didn't dampen his spirits. He was constantly making moves on me; throwing out blatant compliments, trying to hold my hand, or standing extra close to me.

       “Just couldn't keep away from me?”

        I rolled my eyes, “Let's just get what we came for, okay?”

       “What, no grand welcoming?” he took a step towards me, “We haven't seen each other in a while. I think I at least deserve a special greeting.”

        “I said 'hi',” I tried to discreetly take a step back, but he just took a bigger step forward, “I think that's plenty of a greeting.”

        “Come on, I think I deserve something a little better then just a 'hi',” he closed the majority of space between us. I could feel his hand brushing up against mine.

       I long ago gave up trying to keep him from being friendly. Obviously I put up some resistance, drawing the line at holding hands or, heaven forbid, kissing. But little things, like hands brushing, I just tried to ignore.

But this one was rather difficult, since for some reason it was making my heart pound, “I have more important things to do Shaun, namely get the thing I came here to get.”

       “I think that can wait a few seconds,” he brushed his finger along my arm, sending a wave of butterflies into my stomach. Correction, not butterflies. Butterflies were what you got when you were happy and were associated with romance. These were more like bats, poking my innards with there wings and sending a weird rush through my body.

       The rush was small enough that it more woke me then entranced me and I quickly stepped away, “I have things to do. Lets just get this done.”

       He shook his head, “Fine. This way,” he then disappointed, but confident, started to walk away, “You know, you should really loosen your schedule if you don't even have time to enjoy the moment.”

       I muttered a,”whatever,” and followed him to the other end of the park.

       He walked in front of me, wearing a stripped polo and khaki shorts; my weakness when it came to men's apparel. He'd probably done that on purpose. I silently cursed myself for not thinking ahead and changing before I came. I'd been in a dressy mood that day, so I was wearing a nice pea-coat, along with dressy shoes and my hair was down and curled. Which he probably thought I had done on purpose, which I hadn't.