First Kiss Part V: Senior Year (part II)

So... I'm sorry I didn't post this over the weekend. I just want everyone to be on the same page and some people don't look at their computers on weekends. People like me. But I posted something! So that's progress. My mom is funny, eh?

Just as a reminder -- there are six parts of this story. Tomorrow will be the exciting finale. Here's the rest of senior year.

Senior Year part II:
He didn't call.

Not the next day or the day after or the day after. I think I called him at one point and he said that he had forgotten to call me. We didn't speak again for the rest of the break.

When we got back to school, I didn't have any classes with him. We didn't talk for a few weeks. Months? Can't be sure. I was confused and becoming increasingly frustrated so any interaction we did have was probably terse and sassy. I went back to my people. He went back to his. Anyway, whatever we had shared during the first semester of senior year didn't carry over into the second. It was as if I had dreamed it all.

I just continued on with senior year -- trying to decide what college to go to -- trying to decide what I wanted to be when I grew up. This was actually when I decided that having mature job aspirations was not for me and I should probably look into something really impractical like movie making.

Prom approached. Alex asked some girl named Ashley. I went with my friends. By this point, I was in a pretty solid group of girls that came to be known as The Four. We weren't a mafia or anything... there was just four of us that were always together.

During prom, Alex and I shared a bittersweet slow song. I was so confused.

At one point I called him out on the whole thing. I just didn't want the awkward, unspoken confusion to continue. We spoke briefly. It didn't really help.

The end of the year approached; it was the end of high school. Yearbooks were distributed and Alex got a hold of mine, writing something simple and sweet. This was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. I had to go cry in the bathroom like a lame girl in a lame scene from a lame Drew Barrymore movie.

I kept to my friends. He kept to his. It became increasingly clear that I wasn't going to get any sort of answer, so I figured out how to cope with that. I was confused and felt stupid, but my active frustration began to calm and I was able to think about him as a bittersweet memory.

Then something strange happened...

Right before graduation, one of my good friends started dating one of his good friends. This created an interesting rift in the patterns of the universe. My group of friends had expanded to include Alex and other handsome soccer players (you know who you are). I saw more of him. In large groups of random social interaction, we were both there. We slowly and cautiously became friends again.

[Insert happy montage of high school graduation. Everyone wore green.]

During the summer after graduation, our group continued to hang out and do stuff. Everything was a bit more relaxed. Alex and I became good friends -- like actual friends. It was really great.

Don't be fooled, though. As friendshippy as our friendship got, I was mentally still that 14 year old girl pulling at his leg hairs hoping it would give me a chance to hold his hand. Yes, even after everything that happened, this was Alex we were talking about.

The end of the summer came quickly and it wasn't long before I was packing my bags to move to Utah. Alex was going to stay in Florida -- as were 99% of my friends.

The night before I left to make the drive out to BYU, everyone came over.

We talked and laughed and tried not to think about what was actually happening. We tried not to have that stupid Vitamin-C song playing on repeat in the backs of our minds, but there it was. Then the end of the night came. It was time for everyone to go home. I hugged my friends; I don't remember if I cried. Then everyone -- Ally and Alex and the bunch -- got into their cars and left.

I remember crying then.

A few minutes later, in a moment of emotional exhaustion and total 17-year-old dramatic desperation, I sent Alex a text. Yes, a text. Say what you will...

"I love you, Alex."

A moment later I received a reply.

"I love you too."