His name was David.
Not an extraordinary name by any means, but just the thought of the face that went along with that name used to send me into spasms of giggles, the kind that can only be made by a teenage girl who's fallen hopelessly in love.
I met him in Spanish class when we were assigned seats next to each other. I took one look at his perfect smile and his 'GCHS Freshmen Basketball' bag and decided that he was far too popular for me to ever have any hope of dating him. With this assessment made, I managed to pretty much ignore him during class. If only it stayed that way.
See, at the time I hadn't dated very many guys, but the guys I had dated all had two things in common: they were shorter than me by at least an inch, and their voices hadn't begun to deepen yet. So in a nutshell, I had dated the late bloomers of high school.
But David was the complete opposite. He was a good four or five inches taller than me (not surprising, with him being a basketball player) and his voice could have made me swoon. It wasn't just the voice of an adult man, it was even deeper than that. Every time he spoke it sounded like a song played on a bass, especially when he laughed. I heard that voice in my dreams sometimes.
Don't think my huge crush developing on him was completely superficial, though. For a basketball player, David actually had an above-average personality. He was friendly and he was funny, and he didn't attempt to flirt with any blonde who walked by. We talked a lot about soccer (which he also played) and about music, and sometimes we told each other of funny things that had happened to us recently, like me getting my mascaraed eyelashes stuck to a microscope in biology or him accidentally hitting a cheerleader in the face with a basketball. Spanish quickly became my favorite class.
I didn't talk to him much outside of class. We had a staff-student dodge-ball game which he participated in, and I sat in the front row and watched. There was something distinctly attractive about his fast, hard throws of the Nerf balls and the way his basketball sneakers squeaked on the glossy gym floor. I was, of course, far too shy to cheer for him, but I did clap whenever he got someone out, and when it was over I could think of nothing but the boyish, determined look on his face when he was playing. Someone asked me why I was smiling in the middle of the hallway. I replied that I was daydreaming.
Eventually our seats in Spanish got changed, which was disappointing, but I still managed to chat with David a little before class started. As time passed, I became more and more sure that he liked me, and the bubbling excitement in my stomach grew stronger. I was by no means a popular girl, and never had a boy like David shown any kind of romantic interest in me. I waited eagerly for the day when he would ask me out. He'd probably say something like, “Maybe we can hang out after the game tonight?” I found myself blushing girlishly just thinking about it.
Time continued its unchangeable march forward. Before I knew it, it was the last game of the season. Once it was over, my romantic hanging-out-after-the-game fantasy would go down the toilet. When he didn't mention it at school, I decided to go with a friend. Maybe it was more his style to ask me out at the game. After all, it's no secret that high school boys seem to find girls more attractive outside of school. That's probably the reason all my previous boyfriends had asked me out at soccer practice or orchestra rehearsal.
So on a Friday night I prettied myself up and merrily drove with my friend to the game. Due to her dad having to work late, we didn't arrive until the freshman game was almost over. We found seats close to the front and I was practically swooning watching David play. He had a sort of grace about him, his quick movements. I giggled when he did anything good. My friend glanced at me occasionally, looking confused, but said nothing.
The game ended ten minutes after we arrived. Our school had won. We cheered as they trotted to the locker room, expressions of triumph on their faces. I felt more in love with David than ever.
Usually the freshman players stayed to watch the JV and varsity games, so I constantly scanned the bleachers, searching for David amid the crowds. It was halftime of the JV game before I finally spotted him. He looked so perfect, standing there in his basketball sweats leaning on the railing. I giggled randomly.
Then my smile faded.
A girl had appeared next to him. I recognized her as Claudia Pierce, one of the “popular” girls. She and David chatted cheerfully, and I felt an awful weight settle on my heart. Depressed and shocked words flashed across my mind: They're dating, oh my God, he's her girlfriend, they're in love, he has a girlfriend and it's Claudia and she's so pretty...
My friend must have noticed something in my face, because she asked if I was alright. I answered with the lame excuse that I was tired. She looked unconvinced but didn't pressure me.
Maybe they're not dating, I began to reason with myself, trying to get did of that terrible feeling of remorse in my stomach. They're just talking. David can talk to pretty girls without actually dating them. They're probably just friends. That must be it. It has to be.
I looked back at them across the gym.
And my heart broke.
They were sitting next to each other in the bleachers, close together. Closer than friends would sit.
And their feet were touching.
That's what hurt the most was their feet. There was something in the way her small, dainty Uggs looked rested on his basketball sneakers that made me feel like I'd been punched in the gut. It was too perfect, that was it; they looked too perfect next to each other.
Claudia. Beautiful, popular Claudia.
And David.
I had to sit through the rest of the JV game, as well as the varsity game, with them sitting directly across from me. I couldn't watch the game for more than a few seconds without glancing back up at them, and each time it felt like a slap in the face. But I couldn't stop looking; I just couldn't.
Occasionally Claudia would laugh at something David said to her; sometimes they would both laugh, and their cheeks would touch, and I felt a strong urge to run from the gym and never go back.
But I just couldn't.
It seemed like days before I finally could leave. The drive home was quiet; my friend seemed to sense how upset I was, but she didn't question me, just allowed me to sit in silence and focus on not crying.
When I got home, I no longer just felt sad, I felt frustrated, mostly with myself.
It was so obvious, you see. I remembered suddenly how once, Claudia had came into our Spanish class to give the teacher something, and she and David had talked to each other, and he had called her Clauds.
He had called her Clauds, and I thought they were just friends.
I felt sick.
But time kept marching on.
I did my best not to think about it. At first, when I closed my eyes at night all I could see were Claudia and David sitting close together, too close together, with their feet touching, and smiling the way young lovers did, and laughing without a care in the world.
But eventually the sharp stab of pain whenever I thought about him faded to a dull soreness, like an old bruise. I managed to ignore him during Spanish, and felt extremely grateful to not be sitting next to him any longer. I felt almost as grateful that the boy I now sat next to was attractive and funny.
He was not tall. He didn't have a deep voice. He wasn't a basketball player.
But by falling for this boy, I kept myself from falling to pieces over David. Because when I fall in love, I fall hard. And sometimes there's just one person there to catch me at the bottom.
I'll never forget that boy I fell in love with at age 14. He may not have loved me, but unwittingly he taught me one of life's most important lessons: Love is a painful process. There is heartbreak, there is frustration, there is sorrow. But beneath it all, there is love, and after all these years I still think that all the pain I went through during that basketball game was worth it.
I think he made me a better person that day.
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Originally Posted by moonbird
