the boy with the dimpled smile | ✔️

Fifty-Nine

6 years later...

My sister goes to your school now, but I transferred six years ago. I doubt you even remember me. Heck, I didn't even know you still went there! There was a fair held at the school. A fair which I attended. A fair which you attended.

The second I spotted the familiar head of platinum hair, the only platinum hair I've ever seen being yours, I knew it was you. And my heart surged, try as I might to stop it. I've never liked any one else in my life, and now that I see you again, six years later, going from booth to booth with your friends, it confuses me as to why it was you I picked to like.

Why did I pick you? The one person I knew from the start would never stay? The one person who already left the other girl just as easily as me?

The questions roamed around in my head all day, and I willed for you not to look in my direction, not that you would've recognized me anyway.

Then, the thing I wanted most to avoid, happened. You looked at me the moment I looked at you. My cheeks became warm, and you gave me a confused expression.

Please don't recognize me, please don't recognize me.

The silent mantra I repeated over and over did nothing in helping me when you gave me your small, dimpled smile, the smile I so well remember, the smile that told me you remembered too.

You looked like you wanted to approach me, but I couldn't handle that. I spun on my heel and walked away, looking at you through the corner of my eye, seeing the hurt look flash over your face.

Is it so wrong that I liked it? That I liked the hurt you felt in that one second of turning away? Is it so wrong that I liked hurting you for just a moment, when you hurt me for half a year, and didn't even care?

I know it's wrong. But I can't help it.

And yes, all these years I've remembered everything about you, but my memory has been fading, and seeing you again brought back the pain of losing a good friend.

The one question I wonder the most of all, though is the one I know I'll never get the answer to.

How could you be so cruel to me? How? What did I do wrong? Maybe she was just prettier than me, maybe it was because I'm not white, and she is? I hope that's not it. That's an unfortunate childhood you had, then. I wish I could get my answers, but I can't just walk up to you and ask.

Yes, I transferred back then. But now I'm not living in that city anymore at all. And I'm not sorry.

I turned back around to sneak one last glance at you, only to see you still staring back at me. The corners of my mouth twitched upwards just the tiniest bit, and your body visibly relaxed, returning my smile.

Will I see you again? I don't know. Most likely not. Do I want to see you again? Maybe. Maybe when we're fully grown, married, and have a family, a job. Maybe then would be the best time to catch up.

Do you want to see me again? God, I hope so. I hope you want to see the girl you dropped for someone else many years later, just to see that she's doing a heck of a lot better than you thought.

One last thing. I wanted to say thanks. Thanks for building me up, then breaking me down. I learned a lot from you. Not everyone will love you the way you are. Not everyone will be your friend. Not everyone will gain your trust and not break it. But most of all, not everyone will be in your life forever.

And that's okay.