Adrian Gonzalez knows the painful truth about liking someone you have no chance with-they never like you back and you're left heartbroken. Ever wonder why it's called a 'crush?'
But when the hopeless crush he has is on Parker Thompson-nonbinary scho...
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The bargain I got was a fucking nightmare.
They say your teenage years contained the best and worst years of your life, all rolled into a ball of raging hormones, figuring out who you are, and making a ridiculous amount of questionable decisions. I have no idea who they are, but I know they're dead wrong.
The thing is, there was no 'best' in my teen years so far. It's not an exaggeration, because I certainly didn't see the 'best' part in the acne breakouts that appeared out of nowhere, popping up before Picture Day and leaving behind scars when they finally went away.
There was no way a 'best' managed to wiggle itself into the situation with tripping on the staircase while practically the whole school was watching. It was the worst feeling ever, especially when I had to pretend the fall---which landed me on my hands and knees and left me decently grazed---didn't hurt. To top things off, once I got on my feet, I lost my balance and fell... again.
Even at home, the teenage 'worsts' didn't leave me alone. It said 'what's up' in my parents expecting me to make grown-up decisions while treating me like a child. Flaunted around in a rainbow cape and a sombrero while I had to bite down on my tongue and remain in a dark, damp closet---because God forbid I, Adrian Luis Gonzalez, actually had the courage to tell my parents about a date who wasn't female. And it said 'hola' whenever a random boner decided to grace me with its presence at family events. I couldn't tell whether it was a sick attempt at a joke my body pulled, aimed at putting the 'fun' in Aunt Camila's funeral.
I had the 'worsts', sure, but what hurt was that the good parts seemingly tried to avoid me altogether. Teen years are supposed to be laced with a bunch of firsts---first kiss, first date, first love, first emotional meltdown---that sort of thing. The only parts of the above I managed to bag so far was the kiss, the date, and my first emotional breakdown. The latter was less awkward and went much better, if I do say so myself. I was on my thirty-sixth one now.
It was aggravated when one of my teachers decided that it would be totally logical to give our class a major assignment which carried fifty percent of our grade---in the first week of school. For Biology.
The only thing I'd consider eerily close to a 'best' was seeing Parker Thompson, in all his loveliness, two seats in front of me when Mrs. Smith was giving out her death sentence of a project.
Parker groaned with the rest of the class when we were told the project was due in a week. He even made a mild protest, smooth voice pleading with the teacher for an extension, while he riled up the class to join him. They did; I did.
It was a low chant. More time, more time.Repeated and repeated and repeated until Mrs. Smith finally unfolded her arms and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose with a defeated expression. She gave in; we got an extra week.
I could only see the back of Parker's head and the slight rise of his cheek, but I knew he was doing it---displaying his full-toothed smile, which had been barred by braces but a summer ago. I could picture how gorgeous he looked as his laughter rang out in the air, blending in and standing out amongst the cheers that rose.
