Like Ice
written by Vemped
for Leslie_Marie15
Special thanks to a_complicated_life
I sat shivering with my arms huddled around me. Obviously, my three pairs of pants and two jackets were useless against the ice cold wind. Goosebumps rose on my skin, but at that moment, I didn't care at all. Screams and groans erupted around me as our football captain was tackled onto the fake grass. I make myself look a bit defeated while in reality I knew absolutely nothing about football.
Despite our team losing all the time, I couldn't be happier that we always show up in the freezing cold. Under the bright stadium lights, I sat with my band family, alto saxophone in hand. I run my numb fingers over the cold keys and recover my Rousseau mouthpiece with my cap. I watch another member of our team get tackled and smile to myself because there was no place that I would rather be. I couldn't find anything that I love more than making music with my friends.
I dropped my flip folder of music down the bleachers and asked the girl in front of me to reach it. It was only then that I noticed her shoes. This skinny, lanky girl who played the clarinet definitely did not wear a size 10 men vans. I scrunched my eyebrows and noticed the boy sitting beside her: he lacked gloves, a jacket, and shoes. He was clearly freezing, but still wore a grin that nearly split his face in half. With her sopping wet shoes by her feet, the girl wearing his clothes rubbed his arms, attempting to warm him up. I could tell immediately that he loved her almost as much as she loved him.
I sighed making my breath appear foggy against the black night. Why didn't I have someone that looks at me the way they look at one another? Why couldn't someone love me the way I love music? Sometimes, life could be cruel and unusual.
After an eternity, the game ended. Clearly, our football team lost. Yet, the 7 to 34 score was still an improvement that was worshiped by the administrators and investors who created the football budget and believed it is a good idea for them to receive even more money. Meanwhile, I was just excited to be back on the warm bus.
***
A high pitched voice echoed from the back of the yellow bus. "We have another band couple on the bus!" This was followed by groans, laughs, and 'congratulations'. The voice got louder as it explained what was witnessed. Apparently, she grabbed his face, looked directly into his blue eyes and told him to kiss her. So, he did.
In my seat, I imagined them kissing with such passion; she weaved her hands into his hair as he cupped her face; their mouths moved in perfect harmony. I touched my own lips just thinking about it and my face must have turned cherry red. What would it feel like to have a person's lips on your own? I didn't have the slightest clue.
For the rest of the bus ride back, I thought about the relationships around me. Why couldn't I have my own blue-eyed boy like the girl on the bus? Why didn't anyone look at me like that?
***
It was nearly 9pm when we arrived back at Morian High School; it was finally time to start my walk home. I walk under the trees and look up at the street lights, almost too distracted to hear someone call my name across the busy street.
"Hey, wait up! Are you walking home?" I just nod my head as he catches up to me because we live on the same side of town. We walk silence, both exhausted from the game.
It was not a forced silence, but a comfortable one with the boy that I have known most of my life: Jake was the funny, musically gifted, intelligent boy who I went to school with me since first grade. He's the type of guy who can make you laugh even when tears are falling down your face in buckets. He can be a real jerk, but never manages to ruin his goody two shoes reputation. Above all, he's a person that can make anyone feel comfortable and welcome.
Jake saw me shiver and looked concerned.
"Do you want to borrow my jacket?" He asked as he scratched the back of his head. His short brown hair flew in different directions from the wind.
"No Jake; it's your jacket and you're going to freeze without it. Don't worry too much about me. I'm alright." I smile softly and watch the cars pass before crossing the street. I notice that we clearly pass the block that he turns down to get to his own home and send him a questioning gaze. Jake doesn't notice my glance and begins to whistle a tune. I shrug. One would think that a 17 year old boy would know where he lives.
It isn't long before I feel his right hand intertwine with my left; I don't mind. He sends me a soft smile as I look into his blue eyes.
"Your hand is like ice." He rubs it between his, trying to warm it up. It is then I realize that his hands weren't much warmer than my own.
Maybe I found my own blue-eyed boy after all.
