ONLY YOU.
Growing up, you're taught that it's okay to love and to be in love. For some, love comes easy, for others, it doesn't.
On a teen's sixteenth birthday, a number appears on their palm, this number only belonging to one othe...
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We did see each other again. And again. And again. Sometimes it was by accident, like going to Selena's to coach her on how to tell Rob and getting on the elevator while he was getting off. Other times they were "accidents", as in, me pretending to be busy on the phone and somehow walking into him whenever I could.
It wasn't entirely my fault. Mandy did nothing but boost my ego, constantly insisting the boy was into me. And as much as I would love for that to be true, it couldn't be.
Upon finishing editing and sending the photos out, I am always given the final product. So when Tom's issue landed on my desk, with the quote "I'm still looking for my number girl" printed along the bottom right corner, I almost considered throwing the damn magazine in a shredder. Not that it would have shredded, as our machines sucked, and my prideful self simply wouldn't allow my works of art to go to waste like that. So as much as I wanted a relationship to begin brewing, it wasn't an option at this point.
So I settled for friendship. It began with exchanging numbers, or more accurately, me getting scolded for talking to Tom on my office phone and having no choice but to give him my cell. Then it turned into lunch meet ups, and racing one another to finish their burger fast–I usually won. Then somehow, I found myself cuddling his dog, as a scary movie played entirely too loudly on his tv. And the best part? I was okay with it. I was so happy to finally have another person to spend time with outside of work. It was refreshing to be able to make plans with someone other than Mandy, who's been too busy with her girlfriend to even hang out, or Selena, who's baby stress always managed to put a damper on my mood.
For the first time in a while, I was completely and utterly content with how my life was going.
"Fingerprints, Alex–Oh my god." Now, I watched my brother in horror, the boy thrown across my couch with a photo between his fingers. I made the last minute decision to invite the boy over, finally getting around to giving him that previously requested girl advice. I quickly regretted that decision once his grabby hands touched everything, including my personal photos hung around the room, now tainted by his fingerprints.
"My bad," he muttered, setting the picture aside, much to my relief. "Now what do you think of my idea?"
"I thought you said this girl was top tier." Alex nodded in confirmation. "Okay... so do you really think she'd like to be asked out over a call?"
"No, I'm gonna start singing when she answers," he clarified, not that it helped, considering it only made my cringe intensify.
Alex Santiago received what I called, the Santiago blessing. He was already friends with who his numbers belonged to, meaning he didn't need to search for love, unlike his older sister–that being myself. However, unlike other Santiagos, he wasn't already dating the girl. They were just friends, and because of that, Alex needed to ask her out first. Which brings us to now, Alex listing a plethora of ideas, each one worse than the last.
