07 - first steps and tipsy tongues

22.2K 1.3K 762
                                    

At some point during the second term of seventh grade, Elijah asked me to the school dance

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

At some point during the second term of seventh grade, Elijah asked me to the school dance.

I said no.

It was a rejection that shocked my cohort, one that the girls in our year couldn't for the lives of them understand. Because Eli was special. Effortlessly so. Even as a pre-teen, he'd oozed a godly level of charisma and confidence that made girls weak at their knees. His iridescent brown eyes were magnetic in a way that was almost enchanting. In a lot of ways, he was like his beloved ocean—beautiful, glittering, carefree. Every girl in town wanted a piece of Elijah Kovač.

Which was exactly why I didn't. Eli reeked of trouble.

But then at the dance, he bought me a cup of Fanta. Fanta, my absolute favorite soft drink in the history of soft drinks. I later learned that he'd unleashed a barrage of questions onto my best friend Lola in order to figure out how to chisel the ice around my cold heart. With that one simple act, an act that I took to signal more than some base-level interest in me, I changed my mind about the popular boy with the hypnotic gaze. I ignored my better judgment and betrayed my gut.

It was how I knew—that the move could work. Buying a girl a drink was a big step, yes, but the potential payoff made it worthwhile.

In the Camden student lounge six years after Eli and I had our first dance, Noah's eyes were bulging from his skull.

"What?" he sputtered. "Buy her a drink? You don't think it's too soon for that?"

"For free drinks?" I waved a hand. "I mean, don't be a creep about it. But he has to make his intentions clear from the get-go. Do you know how quickly girls slot guys into the friendzone?"

"Yep." Dex sighed knowingly.

I felt anxiety radiating from him and placed a hand over his. "Don't be scared. It's simple, really. Just go over to the bar and pull the old 'oh hey, you again!' She'll ask what you're doing, you'll explain that you were buying us drinks. Then, ask her what her poison is." I folded my arms triumphantly, a proud smile pulling at my lips. Damn, I was good.

Though not quite good enough to evade another two minutes of persuasion. That's the thing about using human beings in experiments. They don't always do what you want.

Eventually—and after a literal push from James—Dex hoisted himself from his seat and took his first tentative steps. The three of us watched as he crossed the floor, his gait unusually confident and poised. But then he stopped walking.

And turned around.

I rose from my stool, throwing my arms in the air as if to say 'WTF?!' Dex hovered in place, took in a deep breath, then turned on his heel to walk in the direction of the bar once more.

And then he turned back towards us again.

"Is he... pacing?" Noah asked.

"He's pacing," I confirmed.

The Heartbreak HypothesisWhere stories live. Discover now