Complicated People, Complicated Love

Thank You Instagram

Lucas

I spend the rest of the night running around school searching for Maya as all the other students enjoy the dance. I go outside after searching every unlocked room in the school for almost a half hour. I hadn't even been to some of the rooms before, who knew the school had a shop class?

The night is cold, it's almost winter in New York and the tux that I'm wearing isn't exactly helpful in keeping in my body heat. I circle the grounds, but it seems that Maya has officially left. I pull out my phone yet again, and dial Maya. It goes straight to voicemail, just liked it's done the last 7 times. I fill with a surge of anger and throw my phone on the grass.

I sit down and put my head in my hands. Why did I I have to tell her? We had a good thing going, we were friends, maybe even best friends, and I ruined it.

Of course she doesn't like me back, she has maybe the worst life of anyone I've ever met. Why would she want a boyfriend? Maybe if I'd have waited until she was ready?

Who am I kidding, I couldn't have waited, it would eat me up inside to keep my feelings all bottled up. I stand up and pick my phone up from the wet ground. I wipe mud from the screen and by some miracle, it doesn't look to have broken, or even cracked for that matter. I move my hand through my hair and just stand there. What do I do? Do I wait until Monday to confront her and risk not seeing her for three days? I can't do that. It's not complete selfishness that has me going on this train of thought. I was worried about her before tonight, and who knows what this did to her current mindset? I feel guilty. Most of all though, I feel worried. Worried what might happen to her. Worried what she might do.

My car is sitting in the parking lot, even colder than the outside air, when I step into it. Right as I'm about to turn on the car, I get an Instagram notification. Maya Hart has uploaded a picture to her story with the caption "Friday nights. Come one, come all" . I open the picture and see a blurred photo of bodies that look like they're dancing if I had to guess. This isn't the school dance though. There's slightly more light, and the strobes in the picture are red and pink, not blue and purple. My heart speeds up as I see she tagged a location.

It's only a couple of minutes away. I start the car and drive.