*** Two minutes before ***
Ж Oscar Ж
“Is the amazing girl you’ve been in love with not turning up tonight? Did I come here for nothing?”
I hit him on his head, but gently. Jake was a pretty impressive amateur boxer, the job he took to pay his way through Harvard. He was my friend, but I didn’t want to mess with him.
“I’m not in LOVE with her. Sure, I like her, but…”
Jake sighed, as I stamped a ticket.
“You’re in love with her. Why else would you be here, on a Friday night, stamping tickets for a toddler’s dance?”
I glared at him, stamping “a toddler’s” ticket. The said toddler looked Jake up and down, clearly checking him out, before being dragged into the gym hall reluctantly, by her escort.
“Okay, fine, I am love with her,” I snapped. “But you have to know, she’s mine. Don’t go falling for her, okay?”
“Whatever, Oz,” he said, looking away. “I’ve got a girlfriend. I don’t need to go messing with someone else’s. Just confess to the girl already, before some other douche bag takes her. Look, they told me I had to be a bouncer or whatever tonight, and I have to make sure the kids aren’t getting to crazy. I’m leaving you here.”
He turned, and disappeared into the crowd, and I was left stamping tickets on my own.
***
9.12PM, Friday, Dec. 5th
Javotte Public, New York
“Oscar!” I said, my voice high and panicky, pulling my hand out of Blane’s. My eyes were on the back of Jake’s head. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like he’d seen me. My gaze flickered back to Oscar’s face. The look he gave me froze my blood. “W-what are you…doing here?”
“I was just doing a favor for our old teacher. Mrs. Valerie.”
“Oh, right.” Mrs. Valerie was an English teacher. Oscar’s favourite subject was always English, and apparently that’s why he was accepted into Harvard – his unique and undeniable love of all poetry. Or whatever crap he wrote on his university application. Truth is, I haven’t seen Oscar read anything longer than those flowery, flirty texts his numerous ex-girlfriends had sent him. Well, before they dumped him for being too “cold” (weird, right? Oscar’s the warmest person I know). Actually, I’ve seen him read some post-relationship texts as well. Those were never pretty.
We stood awkwardly in the doorway (holding up a long queue of cold, moaning people), and it took me a while to realize Oscar and Blane were waiting to be introduced. Damn it. I was kind of hoping we could gloss over this.
“Uh…Oscar, this is Blane. Blane is my…uh…”
I glanced at Blane, who smiled cutely at me. His blue eyes were wide with hope, and I felt an irrational flicker of annoyance. “…my boyfriend,” I said, with defeat. I turned back to Oscar, who was standing unnaturally still. “Oscar, Blane is my boyfriend. And Blane, Oscar is my friend.”
They shook hands, and Oscar gave Blane a tight smile, but his eyes were kind of pained.
He must be feeling the normal “big brother” protective instincts. We’ve been friends for so long, we’re almost siblings.
“Where did you meet Blane?” Oscar asked, his eyes boring intensely into mine.
I glanced back at the people in the queue behind us, who were all complaining loudly, but Oscar wasn’t paying any attention to them.
