Wanted

I see him in the hallways often. Tall. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Handsome. Sometimes laughing with his friends. Other times walking briskly through the hallways on the way to class. I see him during class too. Quiet. Smart. All A's. Know's all the answers. But not annoying about it. Just silently and quickly doing his work and attentive to the teacher. I see him during PE too. Fast. Strong. Lively with his friends. A good sport. Good humor. A kind aura about him.

But I don't think he ever really saw me. Or I didn't think he did. I don't think he did until that day, a week before the school dance. Or maybe he did. Because weren't there all those signs? Like meeting my eyes in class and then turning quickly away. Like me turning around to find those dark eyes on me. Like picking up my books that one time when I'd dropped them. Like when he made a particularly good hit in baseball, when his foot hit home plate, the way his eyes scanned the crowd until, finding my own brown eyes, he'd give a little smile.

And then there'd been that time, only a few days ago, when I'd stepped out of class to find him waiting there.

"Can I, um, ask you something?" He'd asked, not meeting my eyes.

"Sure." I'd responded, looking at the ground. Then we'd looked at each other for a long moment as a million thoughts flashed through my mind like: What is happening right now? And yesssssss!!!! And okay...awkward... He blushed and looked away. He stammered. Shook his head. Tried again. Finally, he sighed and, holding up a notebook, asked softly if it was mine. It was. I thanked him, put it in my backpack and walked away. I'd glanced back, only for a moment, to find him looking after me, shaking his head. Like there was something he wished he'd said but hadn't. Like he was holding something back. Like he didn't really pull me aside to ask about my notebook.

But it wasn't until that day during lunch that I really got it. Really understood. Because I didn't read into things. I wasn't that kind of girl.

That day I'd just quietly slipped from the lunch line, my tray full of cafeteria food. I was headed to the table where my two friends already sat, laughing and talking. And that was when I heard the snickering behind me. I'd ignored it, not guessing the taunts had been directed towards me. And then someone had shoved me over and my foo went flying. I landed on the floor, barley managing to protect my head from smacking the cold floor. I turned to see a boy standing there. A specific boy. It took me a moment to remember why. This was the boy who bullied me one day in the rain. Who got in trouble because I'd yelled back, causing a commotion.

But everything was too loud now. Too much noise. Too much laughter. To many voices to hear his in the fray. Except me. I'd heard him. Every word he'd said.

That no one wanted me.

That I was stupid and ugly.

That maybe I should just leave. Or die.

That no one would care.

And in that moment, just for a fraction of a second as the insults reached my ears and the din of the lunchroom rose around me, I believed him. I looked over at the table where my so-called friends sat. The friends that hadn't even noticed my absence. Or if they had, if they'd seen me on the ground, they didn't care. I thought of that test I'd recently done bad on. My imperfect attributes. And I wondered whether he was right. Maybe I should just leave. Maybe everyone would be better off. Maybe no one would care. Maybe it didn't matter if I lived or died. Because maybe no one even really noticed I was there.

But then it happened. Then he stepped in. He strode forward, appearing in the midst of the crowd, looking the boy in the eye, anger and a fierce protectiveness displayed on his face. Claiming that I wasn't stupid. That I wasn't ugly. That I was smart. Beautiful. That he wanted me here. That he cared. And as he finished, he locked eyes with me for a moment. And I think about what he said. Smart. Beautiful. Cared for. Wanted. By him. Him.

The bully sized him up, perhaps remembering him on the field. He took in his strength. His determination. The hardened look in his eye. And saw it wasn't worth it. Saw he wouldn't win. And then, he sauntered off. Sauntered off like he'd won. but it didn't matter. Because he didn't. We did. We.

And then I meet his brown eyes again. And he'd reached down a hand for me. I'd grasped it. He pulled me to my feet and we'd stood there, utterly oblivious to everyone else. And everything seemed to slow down. Time lost meaning. And whether it was seconds or minutes or seconds that we stood there didn't matter. Because we both understood. And then he'd asked me. What I'm sure he meant to ask me that day. He asked me something I hadn't dreamed of. Hadn't even hoped for.

He asked me to the dance.

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I check in the mirror one more time. I wear a light blue, knee length dress and converse. My long brown hair hangs down over my shoulders. My eyelashes are dark with mascara and my cheeks highlighted with blush. I don't usually wear makeup, but this is definitely a special occasion. My mom calls from downstairs, letting me know it's time to go. I glance down at my watch. 6:30. The dance starts at 7:00.

I still remember my mom's reaction when I'd got home and told her I'd been asked to the Winter Ball. I hadn't planned to tell her everything but it all just came out. I guess I just had to tell someone. She'd been delighted and, naturally, cautious. I'm only fifteen after all. Well, sixteen in a month but still. She'd immediately demanded his name. His age. His grade. Did he get good grades? Was he smart? What did he look like? Ever possible detail about his. When she finally realized she actually knew him, she approved all the way. Once she realized he was one of her friend's son. And then came the lecture. Telling me to be careful. Telling me not to dive in. Or get too attached. Or do anything I would regret. But I know that already. I do.

I hurry downstairs to find Mom waiting with the keys.

"You ready?" She asks me, giving me that look. The look she gives me when she's teasing me about something.

"Mom!" I cry. "Stop!" But I'm laughing. She laughs too we head out to our blue Toyota. Everything flashes past and, in my excitement, we arrive in no time. My mom parks and I get out.

"You sure you don't want me to walk you inside?" She grins mischievously. I raise my eyebrows.

"No mom." I say. She laughs again and drives away. I walk inside. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see him there, looking at me.

"Hey." He says. I look at the floor, blushing.

"Hi." I say back. His hand comes under my chin, and he brings my eyes to meet his.

"Hey, don't feel embarrassed. Just be here." He says softly. "You ready to dance?" He smiles his warm smile I never thought would be directed towards me. I smile back. He reaches his hand for mine and I grasp it. And it feels so right. So amazingly incredibly right. And I never want to let go. So, I don't. And neither does he. We just walk down the hallway together.

The first number plays. It's a fast-paced dance. Country. For some reason, I can never remember to grab my neighbor's hand with my left hand rather than my right. Every time I do it, he laughs at me. Not unkindly though. In a way that shows me he's watching me and wanting to have fun with me. And so I laugh along with him to. And by the end of the fourth contra dance, we are laughing and dancing and having more fun than I've had in a long time.

And then the music slows to a soft, slow waltz. My hand goes on his shoulder. His strong hand on my waist. He is an amazing dancer, so smooth and sure and strong like a man should be. We don't speak much. He only looks into my eyes and all I can think is that I absolutely cannot believe this is happening. And that I never want it to end. And that I really hope I'm not about to wake up and find this all to be a dream. Because it's literally my dream come true.

I think it's the sixth dance when it happens. The lights are dimmed to a soft blue and purple. The room is filled with the swell of soft, sweet music. And my eyes meet his again. My face is inches from his. And then it happens. He leans in and closes the gap slowly as if giving me the option to refuse. But I don't. Because why would I ever refuse? I always wondered what it would be like. How I would describe it. But It's indescribable. And perfect. And absolutely fantastic. And I feel that thing again. That rightness. I have a feeling this is real. This is big. I have a feeling I'm meant to be with him. That we were meant to be together.

But I don't worry about that. I just stay in the moment. just dance with him. And I'm filled with an indescribable happiness. A happiness I've never felt before.

And I never want it to end.