King | Short Story

To Genevieve

Dear Genevieve,

It was a few weeks before Thanksgiving, senior year, when you moved in next door. I remember the dress you were wearing when you came over to the dinner my mom hosted to welcome your family into the neighbourhood.

It was a violet coloured dress that looked so good on you as you sat opposite to me on the table that I couldn't concentrate on the food that was laid out in front of me.

You were gorgeous.

You laughed at every stupid joke my dad made and payed attention to whatever everyone was talking about. I couldn't do any of it, I was busy being crazy about you.

Asking me to give you a ride on the first day of your school was the best thing your mom ever said to me, considering how she didn't like me later on when we got together.

Singing along the same songs in the car rides to school everyday, I knew we had something. We clicked as soon as we began talking.

I noticed how you drifted away from me as soon as you got to know my reputation in school. You didn't want to be friends with a jock. It hurt. You judged me with the tag too.

And so I made up my mind that I had to have you.

You blushed every time I passed you a wave in the cafeteria, everytime I opened the car door for you, everytime I winked at you in the corridors. You loved all of it, you were just scared of me breaking your heart.

During one of those regular rides when I asked you to go out with me, your stuttered responses said what I knew was going on in your mind.

I remember promising you that I'd never break your heart. I really thought I wouldn't.