May the Best Ex Win

29 | More Than a Joke

I wiped my hands on my jeans for what felt like the millionth time. The stage lights were hot, and I was nervous— the fact that Finn had been sitting just one empty seat over certainly didn't help with that.

Fulton droned on about how important the SGA was, while I tried my best not to think about Finn. But it was hard when he was right there, bouncing his leg and staring vacantly out into the crowd.

Is he nervous? I wondered, doubting it. He was Finn, after all. 

I did my best to avoid him up until now, even if he was the reason I'd been sleepless for two nights in a row. In the few moments of sleep that I did manage to get, I dreamt about the things I was trying not to think about. Our kiss and the explosive fight afterward were haunting me, seeming to taunt me more the more I tried to forget them.

Should I have talked to him yesterday? I asked myself. Maybe, but I didn't know how. What would I have said? Should I have apologized? Was I sorry? My head throbbed again, the result of a continuous, Finn-induced headache.

Even as I told myself not to, I couldn't help trying to imagine what had been going through his mind since Wednesday. Was he still reeling from the kiss like I was, or had he already wiped it from his mind? Did he hate me as much as it seemed he did? Did he ever want to talk to me again? 

As much as I hated to admit it, I'd spent so much time wishing he'd walk through the door of one of my classes again. I went out of my way to evade him, but hoped he'd thwart my attempts and come find me. 

The question I had to ask myself was why. What was I hoping for? Us to apologize, forgive each other, and move on, forgetting what happened? That would probably be for the best, but I had a hard time believing I'd ever be able to forget how it felt to have him kiss me. And I had an even harder time trying to believe that I wanted to.

The crowd, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I realized Finn was standing from his seat. I'd been so caught up in my thoughts, I hadn't even heard Fulton introduce him. The principal scowled as he walked away from the microphone and took his seat at the side of the stage, most likely anticipating Finn's speech to include some not-so-school-friendly anecdotes. 

I wasn't sure why, but Finn turned his head, and our eyes met. But just as fast as it happened, it was over. He was walking up to the podium, not giving me any indication that the glance meant anything, despite how electrifying it felt.

Part of me felt like I owed him an apology, and the other part of me felt like he wasn't being fair. He had a reputation, a history. Was it really so wrong of me to assume I might just be another fling for him? 

I tried to cut that thought off. Every time I thought of how offended he got, it reminded me I must've been wrong. And if I was wrong, that meant Finn didn't kiss me because he wanted to hook up. He didn't kiss me just to seduce me or add me to the list of girls he'd gotten with. So why did he kiss me?

"Good afternoon staff and students," Finn started off. The words were so formal sounding that I was pretty sure the audience was shocked into silence, rather than actually listening to the wandering staff members that were trying to get them quiet.

"I'm Finn Harrell, and I'm guessing a lot of you are probably wondering why I'm even up here. Why would a guy like me want to be student body president?"

I wished I was in the audience— all I could see from my seat was his back. His messy hair and denim jacket didn't give me any hints as to where he was going with this.

"Then again, a lot of you might think you have me all figured out. That I'm just doing this for laughs." His voice was filled with indifference, like he couldn't care less about the words coming out of his mouth. "The sad part is, you're right. I joined this thing as a joke, just to see how far I could take it and how much I could get away with. How much I could mess with Milton's annual popularity contest."

I could barely see the crowd thanks to the bright lights, but the few faces I managed to catch sight of were staring in squints of confusion or turning to their friends and whispering.

"And I bet you all expected to laugh during this speech, right? See what crazy things I would say, maybe watch me get dragged off stage by security. That's what gets me— I could've been taking this thing seriously, and you still wouldn't've seen me as anything more than a joke."

My heart pounded in my chest. Was that really how he felt? 

"Truth is, I am so tired of this bullshit image I have to play by the rules of."

My head automatically turned in Fulton's direction. He shook his head at the profanity and stood, immediately hurrying backstage. Finn noticed this too, and let out a frustrated sigh at the obvious hint that he was about to be cut short.

"And I'm tired of watching everyone else have to play by the rules of what they think they have to be. Whether it's to fit in or stand out, it's like everyone is trying to be something. Can't we just be ourselves?" he asked.

I swallowed, flushing as the words brought me back to our fight. It didn't matter that there was an auditorium full of people watching him— it felt like he was speaking right to me. 

"Because I know me, and I'm not just a comedian, or a troublemaker, or whatever else you see me as. I'm Finn Harrell— and I won't be your new student body president, because I resign."

My eyes widened as he stepped back from the mic. And as he turned away, it happened again— he met my eyes. The second felt like forever as I tried to interpret what it meant, but it was over before I could figure it out. I couldn't do anything but sit in the quiet with everyone else as he walked off stage. 

A few scattered claps could be heard throughout the auditorium, and it didn't take more than a few seconds for it to grow into a deafening roar of cheers and whistles. I watched as Finn continued backstage, ignoring the stagehands and an angry-looking Fulton as he headed straight for the exit, walking out.

I couldn't look away from the shutting door as Fulton headed back on stage, trying to quiet the audience. My eyes were glued on Finn's departure, his hunched shoulders and angry steps burned into my mind.

He hadn't meant for them to like his message, but they sure did— or did they only like it because it was outrageous? It was a game Finn couldn't seem to win: they loved him when he was hamming it up, and they still loved him when he was condemning himself for doing so.

He said his piece, but as the crowd continued to cheer, I wasn't sure if anyone had really heard it at all.