I still remember, 3rd of December
Me in your sweater
I stared at her, standing at the side of the room. Her bright blonde hair, the green eyes, a lightly freckled skin. Beautiful, like an angel. And she was wearing that stupid sweater.
That beautiful sweater that should’ve been mine. The one that had originally been given to me. The one that I should’ve kept in my closet rather than giving it back.
The one that was now hers.
I knew I shouldn't be this mad over it because in reality, it was just polyester. But when I really thought about it, I knew the sweater wasn’t my problem. Sure, I hated seeing it on her because it was supposed to be mine but my main problem was Heather herself. I couldn’t even be around her without wanting to die. All I wanted was for him to love me the way he loved her. To give me the attention he gave her.
But I wasn't her. Hell, I wasn’t even half as pretty as she was so it made more sense for him to fall in love with her rather than me.
She was everything I wasn't. Smart, pretty, funny. Perfectly matching Evan in his every move. She was everything I wanted to be but I knew that no matter how hard I tried I would never be as good as her. She was basically an angel with the way she acted, talked and walked, basically floating down hallways.
Or at least, that's what Evan seemed to think.
His crystal like eyes always seemed to be glued to her, no matter where they were.
I returned to reality and my eyes focused back on Heather to see her turn around, her dark green eyes meeting mine. She smiled when she saw me and started to walk towards me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I took a step back and then realized there was no way I could just leave now that she had seen me. I didn't have a valid excuse and I didn't feel like making things any more weird between Heather and I
“Hey,” Heather called, waving slightly as she came up to me.
“Hi,” I said as I tried to force a smile, digging my fingernails into my thigh, “how’s it going?”
“Good, good,” she nodded, glancing over my shoulder rather than meeting my eyes again, “have you seen Evan?”
‘Isn’t he your boyfriend?’ I felt like asking but I then realized how rude and out of place that comment would seem to her. Heather had no reason to understand why I didn’t like her and for now, she didn't even know I didn't like her. Sure, she knew I was Evan’s best friend but she didn’t know how in love with him I was. Well, she didn’t know I was in love with him at all.
“I’m not sure,” I shrugged, biting the inside of my cheek, "Maybe in the bathroom?"
“Oh okay,” she laughed.
“Good luck finding him,”
“Thanks,”
I watched her walk away, with seemingly no energy to find him. I wasn't sure why she had asked me if she wasn't going to try to find him but I tried not to think about it to hard.
But all I could think about instead was Evan. All I could think about was how lucky she was to not have to deal with this pain, to just have Evan love her and not have to be in constant pain every time she saw him.
I bit down on my lip, trying to stop the tears in my eyes from falling down my eyes as I for her to walk far enough that she was out of my view. I then turned around to the door behind me and opened it, basically running up the stairs.
I hated her, i hated her, i hated her
All I wanted was for Evan to love me but he fell for that stupidly angelic girl.
The only thing I could think about was Evan and Heather. The way they held hands as they walked down the hallway, smiling like they had both just won the lottery. The way Evan would wrap his arm around her shoulders whenever they were sitting down, so easily, like it meant nothing to him.
So why did it have to mean so much to me?
I opened the door at the top of the stairs, leading me to the roof.
I only realized then how much i was crying, the tears pouring down my face like a waterfall that I couldn't seem to stop.
I sat myself down on the floor, burying my head in my hands, all to aware of the cold hair and how much warmer i would be if I had just kept that sweater.
I just wanted to be Heather. Evan loved her, half the school had crushes on her and everyone else liked her. She was pretty and she had gotten that stupid polyester sweater from him. I remember that one cold night, the two of us on a roof that was all to similar to this one. It was cold in the December air and Evan had given me the sweater.
I had given the sweater back a few days later, thinking it was wrong to keep it. After all, if I wanted it back, I could just take it back from his closet. Then, next thing I knew, he had given it to his new girlfriend, Heather. But only if he knew how much I liked him, the amount of hours I spent lying awake thinking about him, the amount of tears I had shed for him.
I tucked my knees into my chest, trying to breathe. My lungs felt tight, making deep breaths almost impossible. The tears were still falling down my face, almost uncontrolably but the little breathing I was able to do seemed to help at least a little bit.
I dug my fingers into my knees, hoping it would center myself. Hoping it would make the tears stop. Hoping it would make all my feelings stop.
“Barty?”
I looked up to see the one and only Evan Rosier walking towards me.
“Hey,” I sniffled, rubbing my eyes, trying with the rest of my will power to calm myself.
“What’s going on?” he asked softly, sitting down next to me.
He was to close to me, his shoulder lightly brushing against mine. I could hear his breathing, almost feel his chest rising and falling.
It was wrong. So wrong. Everything was so wrong.
“Not much,” I muttered, not looking at him. I could bring myself to, in fear that the tears would become uncontrable again. I knew there was almost no way I could get out of this without either telling the truth or making up some bullshit response but if I started having a meltdown again the truth would definitally come out and that was the last thing I needed.
“You know you can tell me anything right?” Evan asked, grabbing my hand, “did someone say something about you? Because all you have to do is say the word and I'll beat the shit out of them.”
“No, no,” I said, laughing slightly at his last comment, “it’s nothing Ev.”
“Barty, you're my best friend. I can tell when you're lying.,”
“I’m not-”
“Don’t,” he ordered, pressing his finger to my lips, “if you don’t want to tell me, don’t tell me. I just want to help but if you don't want me to, fine. But don’t lie to me.”
“Okay,” I nodded, pushing his fingers away.
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes before I decided I needed to say something. The silence was painful, the truth lingering on my tongue, waiting to jump out of my lips. So I opened my mouth
“I think I'm in love,” I whispered, still keeping my eyes off of him. I was scared that if he saw the look on my face he would realize that it was him that I was in love with because, as he said earlier, he was my best friend. He could read me like a book.
“Oh?” he asked, a slight teasing tone to his voice, “who’s the lucky girl?”
“Boy,” I mumbled, “but it doesn’t matter, he’s in love with someone else.”
“Oh,” he said slowly, “well, if it makes you feel better, me and Heather aren’t actually in love or whatever. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but only as a friend. Our relationship is just for show. She doesn’t like people in general but doesn’t want people to know that and I don’t like girls so…”
I quickly turned my head, staring at him. His stormy grey eyes met mine and he smiled slightly. His bright blonde hair shined in the moonlight, his teeth matching that shimmer.
Not only was Evan not in love with Heather, but he had also implied that he liked boys. This meant that it was very possible that he could like me. Well, very possible was a strong way to put it but at that point, all I could think about was how in love with him I was so my brain was a little biased.
I don’t know what made me do it, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through my blood or just pure adrenaline, but I leaned forward, cupping my hand under his chin and kissed him. His lips were impossibly soft, like a blanket against mine. He was still for the first couple seconds and I was about to pull away in fear that I had done the wrong thing when he started to kiss me back, his hand slipping behind my head to cradle the back of my neck. I laughed slightly, pulling away with my hand still on his chin.
“Let me guess,” Evan whispered as I opened my eyes, “ that boy that you were in love with but was in love with someone else was me?”
“Maybe,” I smiled.
“My God Barty, you don’t know how long I've been in love with you,” he sighed as I slipped my fingers from his face, running my fingers through his impossibly soft locks.
Love.
It was a word I had been waiting to hear from him to describe his feelings for me for years. I had assumed that he would never love me, not in a romantic way, because he was in love with Heather. And even if they broke up, I had always assumed that he was straight.
But now here we were.
“I love you so much Ev,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
“I love you too Bee,” he laughed.
He took my hand and squeezed it. Something about this movement solified everything in my brain. I had kissed him and confessed to him. The Evan Rosier, the same one that I had been hopelessly in love with for years, told me that he was in love with me.
“You’re really beautiful,” he whispered.
“Oh?” I asked, smiling as I opened my eyes again.
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Please do,”
The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine again, further proving the this was real. I sunk into his lips, my free hand slipping behind his head as I enjoyed the moment.
I had finally gotten what I wanted, finally had Evan kiss me, finally had Evan love me.
Finally got to be the one person I always wanted to be.
Heather.
Or more likely, the person Evan was in love with.