One Shots

Troy & Heather

"You've got to be shitting me. Of all the guys here, my bottle has to land on you! Fine, let's go and get this over with. Mama didn't raise no quitter." I said, glared at the group of smirking people around me, and then marched into the closet.

I'd known better than to participate in the juvenile game, but I was a sucker for a dare and my best friend, Abby, knew it. "I dare you play, Heather." She'd said with a huge smirk. She knew she'd had me. So we'd sat down in the circle and watched as one after another spun a bottle. Whoever it landed on, you had to spend seven minutes in the closet with them. There was no light on inside, so once that door was shut, you were trapped in complete darkness with whomever your bottle landed on. With thirty seconds left on the clock you got a warning knock, so you could hurry back into your clothes if you needed to. These people were insane if they thought any of my clothes would be coming off here today.

Troy freaking Harrison. We'd grown up next door to each other and in grade school we'd been friends. The summer before high school everything changed. Troy was no longer my quiet, nerdy friend. He started hanging out with the jocks and started working out. He no longer had time for me and then it happened. School started, freshman year, and I made the mistake of talking to him in the hallway. Troy had become angry and made fun of me in front of everyone. They laughed, Troy glared, and I ran away with tears in my eyes. I'd avoided him ever since.

Somewhere between then and now, I'd gotten contacts and ditched my braces. My cousin Beth had moved in with us during my sophomore year and kind of took me under her wing. She taught me the do's and don'ts of fashion and makeup. She talked me into cutting my long straight brown hair to a more stylish shoulder length, with some layers. I'd suddenly gained some attention from both of the males and female at school then, but I never wanted the attention. I had my best friend, Abby, who had stuck with me since the first grade. All of those other people could shove it.

I hadn't even wanted to come to this stupid party, but Abby insisted we had to experience it all before we graduated next weekend. We'd managed to avoid getting talked into drinking, but I knew most everyone else hadn't had the same restraint. Was Troy drunk, I wondered, with mild panic, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He stepped into the closet with his tussled bedroom hair, designer jeans, polo shirt, and cocky smirk. The door shut and I couldn't see him anymore, but I could feel him.

"Heather." He reached out, making contact with my arm. He kept his hand there, as he said, "Look we only have seven minutes and I'm not going to waste it giving you excuses. I've been trying to figure out a way to talk to you since I fucked up Freshman year, but I've been nothing but a chicken shit. So I'm going to say it now. That way I can't see the hate for me still burning in your eyes. So here it goes. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for making you feel inadequate. I'm sorry for dropping you as a friend. I miss hanging out with you so much."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't seem to find the words. Was he being sincere? Could I even trust him? The Troy I thought I knew never would have treated me so poorly, so I didn't think I'd ever really known him. I was about to tell him where he could take his apology, but when I didn't respond right away, he said my name and suddenly moved his hand, brushing it against my breast. By the way we both sucked in a surprise breath, I didn't think he'd done it on purpose.

"I-I'm s-sorry." He stammered and moved his hand away. "Heather, will you please say something?"

"I don't know if I can trust you." I finally managed to say.

"I understand."

"You hurt me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Are you only saying all of this because you're drunk?"

"I've been nursing the same beer since I got here, so no I'm not drunk ."