Route 28

2

"I have to go speak with the counselor because she made an error on the class attendance," my AP Lit teacher spoke, "So, for the rest of class you can speak to the person next to you, but no leaving your seats."

The rest of the class began having simple conversations with the person next to them. Colt and I were the only ones not speaking. He whipped out his phone and simply began clicking the keyboard answering the hundreds of messages he received that morning. You see. I'm not even exaggerating. When you are required to sit next to Colt, you're also required to listen to his phone vibrate responding to every message he receives.

I opened my phone and pretended I was responding to the hundreds of messages I wish I'd receive. But, all I got was a text from my dad telling me I forgot my lunch at home again. I knew exactly where it was: right on top of the kitchen counter.

I glanced at Colt who finally placed his phone down on his desk and sighed resting his head on his hands. But, just has fast as he put his phone down, it began to vibrate. I groaned out loud and rolled my eyes at his immense popularity. He gave me a strange look and shrugged his shoulders and continued tapping the screen of his phone with joy. I crossed my arms and sulked down in my seat.

"Uh," I saw Colt put his phone down and turn to me, "Hi."

"Hi?" I stretched and fixed my posture.

My heart began to beat faster than usual. I always watched Colt in the hallways one day hoping he'd talk to me. After four years, he finally did. At the begging of senior year I gave up trying and accepted a guy like him wouldn't interact with "a low class." This was a change.

"I always noticed you always seem exhausted," he pointed out.

"It's nothing," I repeated his words earlier.

Before he could open his mouth his phone vibrated against the table. He quickly tapped the screen and turned back to me.

"Very funny," he scoffed, "But, seriously. Seeing you sad is weird."

"Weird?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Yea," he grinned a little, "You used to talk every second. Now, you don't. It's weird."

"Oh," I looked down at my hand. I didn't really know how to respond to him. He really was watching me when we were younger.

"How about I give an idea?" He proposed, "You tell me what's up, and I'll answer your question in the morning."

I thought about it a little. To him, the reason why I'm upset might make me look like a brat, but I didn't want to tell him everything. I thought about which parts to tell and which to leave out. This was the first time I would be speaking to him since middle school, and I most definitely didn't want to scare him away.

His concerned eyes and furrowed eye brows nearly took my breathe away. I felt a lump in my throat. I've never been this nervous around him before. I couldn't like him again. It was painful doing so. I alway watched him date different girls and even though I knew it was unrealistic, I always secretly hoped one day I'd be one of those girls. Until the end of junior year I realized how pathetic it was daydreaming about a guy like Colt. My best friend knocked some sense into me saying I needed to respect myself and keep my options open. And so I did. All the feelings I've had for him for nearly eight years after staring at my ceiling wall all summer and writing the reasons why I hate him. After writing all the reasons, I learned he wasn't worth my time. Now, I strongly dislike him.

"It's my mom," I began, "She's embarrassed of me and desperately wants me to find a homecoming date this year." I sighed and slumped down in my seat blushing. My problems were so embarrassing.