Mask of Celibacy

Chapter 2

When I slammed my locker shut, there stood Bryan hidden behind it. I balked. Apart from the occasional taunt, the kid hadn't so much as given me the time of day in four years. I didn't blame him. In eighth grade, he'd cornered me and asked me out like an arrogant little schoolboy, and I'd shot him down quicker than a Gatling gun.

I'd never forget it.

School had ended for the day. The teacher had stepped out for a moment, leaving Bryan and me in the classroom on our own. When I tried to leave in order not to be late for my ride home, he blocked my path. First to the left, then to the right. 

With a resigned sigh, I looked up at him. "What do you want?" 

"Go out with me this weekend," he replied, his hazel eyes twinkling.

"Why?"

Now that answer surprised him, judging by his shocked expression. The poor kid had probably heard every response from, "Yeah, bad boy, where should we meet?" to "Why don'tcha go kiss a piranha plant?"

But he'd probably never expected the answer why.

"Come on, Jess." He blocked my way again, this time with a more serious mien. "Go out with me. You know you want to."

He wasn't completely wrong. A part of me found him very attractive with that mixture of Franco-Italian good looks. I could lose myself in those smoldering eyes. Loved that spiky dark hair. His body carefully sculpted thanks to hours of football practice and weight training.

Not only that, but he wasn't half-bad at school. Bryan could be charismatic when he wasn't an arrogant ass-hat, a kind and loyal friend to his teammates.

But he bothered me too.

The haughtiness in his expression burned me like a flame. Me, the curvy girl with one dorky friend. Him, the sculpted jock everyone loved. Me, the sci-fi fantasy nerd. Him, the future football pro. Me, the introvert. Him, the extrovert.

How dare I say that? it seemed to ask me.

In retrospect I realized his pride had simply shielded his nerves, but back then I thought he was nuts. Guys like him didn't date girls like me because it was political suicide. That was the unspoken rule of junior high.

Besides, we would have hated each other because we had nothing in common. We would never last. 

I knew what popular jocks like Bryan wanted on dates. He gathered pretty women like notches on his cane of conquests.

My appeal?

No one could convince me, so he was in it for the chase, for the thrill of the hunt.

Ew. Just ew.

"No," I replied.

His mirth vanished. "No?"

Pressing my books against my chest, I gave him a curt nod. "That's right, no."

"Why not?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

"Because you're conceited and you have no interest in me as a person," I replied. "So, the answer is no."

I walked away from him without another word. And I never looked back.

Fast forward to today. Never did we speak a kind word to one another after that day, apart from a begrudging greeting at church. We Christian kids needed to keep up the appearance of civility in front of our families, but that was it.