Statistically

Chapter One

I have always been fascinated by statistics - the idea that you can pop a few numbers into a calculator, hit a few buttons and pretty much know what is going to happen. To me, it is as close as humans will ever come to being able to predict the future. Statistics also help you know what to avoid, cause you know what things are likely to end badly or be unsuccessful.

In high-school, I walked a tight rope to avoid becoming a statistic. I partied, but I never drove drunk. I got in fights, but I never got suspended. I was a jock, but I got straight As. I kissed a lot of girls, but I never kissed the same girl enough to fall in love with her.

I never got in a car wreck. I stayed out of serious trouble. I got into Harvard.

But I wasn't prepared for the girl I fell in love with, long before I ever kissed her.

They say only two percent of current marriages are that of high school sweethearts. They also say you never forget your first love. Those are two statistics I don't need to calculate.

I know that they are true.

It has been ten years since the last time I saw her. It almost didn't happen. We had been broken up for almost five years, not that I was counting, but it still seemed like it had only been a matter of months to me. I had tried to move on, dated my fair share of women. But none of them hooked me the way she did. I still missed her, still thought of her every day. I tried to put those feelings away inside of myself, lock them up and forget about them. I tried to tell myself what we had wasn't special. Sometimes, I could almost believe the lies I told myself. Most of the time I just pretended to get by.

Ten years and I can still remember exactly how she looked. The way her hair was braided across the crown, pulled back out of her face. Her big blue eyes that seemed to stare straight through me, knock apart all the walls I had put up inside myself, see right to the things I tried to hide from myself. From the world.

I hadn't planned to talk to her. I wanted to avoid it, actually. I thought if I just hung out in the background, I could fulfill my duty to be present and sneak out before anyone noticed I had gone. I should've known that plan wouldn't work with Shelly.

I'd been actively trying not to watch her and failing for most of the night. At some point, I took a swig of my beer and I gave up. I knew it would be a while before I saw her again, maybe never if I could arrange it, so I just let myself look. I just let myself pretend that things were different.

I stood leaned against the wall, the lights dim, music filling my ears. Sometimes she danced, sometimes she floated around from one person to the next, smiling and laughing, throwing her head back in that way that she does. I watched her and I pretended. I pretended that all of the bad things that had happened between us had just been a dream. I pretended that if I wanted to, I could walk right up to her and kiss her. I pretended that this was our day. That she was mine and I was hers, and we had managed to beat the statistic about young love.

When she spotted me across the room, she stopped and stood still. I didn't try to hide the fact that I had been staring at her, looking back I know I should've. It would've been the nice thing to do. But I had drank too many beers and spent too much time in my fantasy of what could've been. I was feeling a lot of things, nice was not one of them. I was mad at every person in the room. I was mad at how they smiled, how happy they were. How they all acted like this night had always been expected, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When she had started walking towards me, I wanted to run. But it felt like my back was glued to the wall, like my legs were suddenly filled with lead. I didn't want to see her up close, I didn't want to hear her voice. But at the same time I remembered just how that voice in my ears made me feel, like it made parts of me I didn't even know existed come alive. Like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it before slamming it back in its spot, but in the best possible way.

She had stopped in front of me and for a second I was aware of several pairs of eyes turning to us. I could almost feel the air draw out of the room. I could feel them wondering if I was going to make a scene, the one they had no doubt been waiting on all day. Part of me had considered it on the flight in. Do a little recreation of my senior prom. The one where I declared my love for her in front of everyone, only to be shot down. When she looked into my eyes as I poured my heart out and for a second I let myself believe she was going to pick me. I still remember the way it sucked the air out of my lungs when her eyes left mine and trailed over my shoulder. When she took her eyes off mine to look at my brother's instead. It's a feeling I have gotten used to over the years, but it still sucks just like the first time I felt it.

We had stared at each other for a second and it quickly became awkward. I thought up a million things I could say. I'm sorry. I don't want it to be this way. I love you. Why do I still love you? But even with a little buzz, I knew they were all wrong. If I needed a concrete sign that it was really over between us, I was getting it. And nothing that I actually wanted to say was what she wanted to hear. So instead I said the expected thing and in that moment I knew, statistics aside, I had really loved her. I would never be able to lie with such conviction for someone I didn't love.

"Congratulations, Elle."

For a second I saw it, that crack in her smile. The one that starts on the edges of her eyes. For a second I knew, it had been real. We had been real. But then her smile had grown bigger, her hand had reached out to my shoulder and time seemed to slow down as I watched her fingers, so close to touching me.

Then from behind me I had heard him call her name. Just like in high-school, her eyes left mine to look for his. Just like in high-school, it was like someone stomped on my lungs wearing combat boots and the air seemed too thick to breathe.

"It was nice to see you, Noah."

She had left before I could say something that I would regret and I had just watched her go. Just watched her back as she almost skipped across the dance floor. Watched her curl up into his arms as he opened them for her. His eyes had met mine for a second and I saw things in them I hadn't wanted to see. I knew he was sorry and I couldn't blame him. Who was I to be angry? I knew what it was like, better than anyone, to wake up one day and realize you loved her. That you probably always had. I just wish he had realized it a little sooner. Would've made all of our lives a little easier.

Ten years ago, but I still remember every detail of that day. The day I decided I was destined to be the outcast of my family. The day I decided to create my own life, separate from the lives of every one I had known. The day I knew I was leaving for the last time, and I wouldn't be back.

The day my baby brother got married.

The day he married Elle.

A/N: I'm pretty much a Grandma when it comes to Wattpad, so if you're reading this you'll have to be patient with me. This story is a work in progress and will hopefully become a chapter story. Basically, inspiration struck for something a little more angsty while waiting for an update on The Favor from the GOAT of TKB fan fiction, aka Caroline4329.