The First Time

She sat at her usual spot in class. Close enough that she could see him, but not close enough for him to notice her. His hair was cropped close and carefully done in the way that made it look careless. He was the captain of the football team and every girl in the grade was in absolute love with him. His name was James Waterford, but everyone called him Jimmy.

She was an average girl, wore glasses, and played the minimum amount of sports. She wore long sweaters and baggy jeans. She wore the long clothing to hide her disappointing body. She could always feel the eyes of her peers on her in gym class, the one time she wore shorts in front of other people. She excelled in mathematics and other lame things. Her name was Jenny Prince.

He sat just far enough away from her so his friends wouldn’t think anything. He had loved Jenny since the day she moved to Crossfield. He loved the way she dressed, in those cute little sweaters. Her awkward way of running in gym class like she was scared of people noticing how beautiful she was. Her smile was all he could think of during the night; her eyes preoccupied every football practice. Coach had gotten mad at him five times last practice for bungling simple plays. He had to talk to her! Just say hello! If only she would look at him maybe he would have the courage to speak to her. But his heart would probably melt away.

The school year was half over and Jenny had only stammered out “hello” to Jimmy a handful of times. He barely acknowledged her existence. Whenever he looked at her he would just look away. Like she was dirt, not even worth his notice. The halfway dance was in two weeks and all she wanted was to be asked by him. But of course he wouldn’t ask her. Why would he? Every cheerleader wanted him and they weren’t leaving him alone. They were always leaning by his locker in their tight clothing, playing with their hair, touching his arm. She was so jealous of their bravado.

He was running out of time.  The dance was in two weeks and he hadn’t even spoken to her yet. Every time she talked to him he looked away, too scared to even say hello. His friends were teasing him about his lack of a date, but he didn’t care. His only worry was that someone else would ask her before he had the courage to do it himself.

The dance was today, she didn’t have a date. Her dress hung in her closest unused. She swore to herself that she wouldn’t go. That she wouldn’t disappoint herself.

The dance was in a few hours. He still hadn’t talked to her. He sat on his bed; head in hands, a cold sweat leaking into his palms. His tux was resting on a chair, fresh from the cleaners. He swore he wouldn’t go.

Maybe he would be there. Maybe he would ask her to dance. She was wearing her dress now.  A beautiful violet dress that flowed her body in a wave. She actually felt beautiful for once. Her glasses sat on her dresser as she put her seldom used contacts in.

He was going, hoping that she would be there. He would ask her to dance. They would laugh. It would be perfect! He had his tux on and was straightening his black silk bowtie, absently staring into his mirror. Worry creased his forehead. He would ask her. He would.

The gym was packed. Streamers hung from every corner and Christmas lights were crisscrossing the ceiling. Everyone was dressed to the nines. She felt so out of place. A slow song started playing. She felt a tap on her shoulder. He was standing there looking magnificent in a black tux. His mouth was slightly open as he stared at her in amazement. He mutely held out his dance; a silent offering to dance. She took his hand.

As they danced, not a word passed between them. They simply stared into each other’s eyes. The song ended and they continued to dance. Eventually they stopped. He held her in an embrace and looked down at her.

“Hello,” he finally said.