I Kissed A Girl

4: Say Please

Mackenzie's P.O.V

The lecture hall was noisy as everyone gathered their things to leave. Professor Simms' most recent lecture was so eye-opening I hadn't been able to draw my attention away. That was until he handed us the essays that he had marked. A B+... I spent all weekend making it perfect and here I was staring at a B+. This was going to put a dent in my GPA so I needed to know what I did wrong, and why it wasn't good enough.

He grabbed his black briefcase; I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped forward but was stopped in my tracks when another of my classmates got to him first. I waited until they were done but they left the class together in conversation. I followed behind, waiting patiently. I hadn't much time, in two hours I had a quick shift at the coffee shop nearby and then I could have all day to myself. Something that I hadn't gotten in quite some time.

College wasn't really what I was expecting. It was all about the schedules and the connections. The former was for success and the latter for fun. The latter, I had been avoiding. It was bad enough that I was socially awkward but I was also bland. Nothing was interesting about me. Talking to people wasn't a strong suit of mine. The checklist was still unchecked. No friends, no fun. The only thing that could be considered fun was my classes. That was as much human contact as I've had since the party last Friday.

I was jolted back when Professor Simms entered his office closing his door behind him. Sure, I didn't want to be one of those overachievers but my grades were important. If I couldn't maintain that, then I would only be proving my father right and what would have I achieved? Nothing. An experience? One that I would have nothing to show for. Dad was an army man, he didn't comprehend failure. He wouldn't stand for anything less than perfect results.

I knocked on his office door and entered after being invited in. He was sitting around his desk, exhausted from his previous lecture by the looks of it, guilt touched my shoulder but I brushed him off. "Sorry to bother you Professor but I don't understand what I did wrong. It was perfect."

Dr. Simms sighed, already knowing what this was about, "Grey," he pulled his chair closer to his desk, "Your essay was well written, very articulate, an amazing job."

"I'm sensing a but." I sat down in a chair in front of his desk and prepared myself.

"But," he paused, "It's too perfect. It lacks any real substance. The essay was about analyzing a love story of any famous person or any staple fictional character in history who you feel has affected how love is perceived."

"And I did that." I showed him the essay paper again, holding it so he could see it as if he had his eyes shut when he was reading it before.

His words came out slow and tired, "But did you?" He asked, "That essay was written excellently but it was unrealistic. There is no such thing as a fairytale love, Grey." He got up and sat on his desk to the side as he explained.

"Love and attraction are twisted; it's messy. David Levithan said, 'That strange, twisted, torn love. That conflict between what your heart knows is right and what your mind is told is right.'" He got up off the table and retired to his chair where he leaned into, "Your essay lacked what makes love real, true conflict. No love is perfect, Grey."

Maybe he was right. Could a perfect love not exist, I thought to myself. For years, I watched my parents live in bliss. They had the type of love that reminded me of that high when I rode the Ferris Wheel for the first time, that anxious excitement. When I looked down I felt my insides fall, a dreadful sweet thing. Was that too much of a fairytale? It was funny, no guy had ever made me feel like that, not even with Xavier, what we had was more a lull of a tunnel swan ride.  My head hurt.