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We grew up in the same neighborhood. We never hung out because our neighborhood groups never seemed to come together. I only knew you as one of the neighborhood boys. It wasn’t until high school that the way I saw you changed. I was a sophomore and you were a senior. I don’t know what it was. Your height? You always towered over everyone. Or how quiet you seemed when you were hanging out with your friends during break? I used to make my group of friends stand near your group, that way I could sneak glances at you. But I wasn't slick. You’d catch me staring and when our eyes would meet, my heart would skip a beat and my cheeks would burn. Then after months of always staring from a distance, I was in desperate need of a ride home because my sister had to go to ballet practice and I didn’t know which school bus went to my neighborhood. So, you offered. And the whole ride there, I stared out the window, paralyzed with fear. Fear of how I felt. Fear of saying something utterly ridiculous and ruining any tiny chance I had for you to notice me as more than that girl who lives in the same neighborhood. You asked me vague questions. Isn't your sister _____? What kind of music do you like? Is this radio station okay? When you dropped me off at my house, I quickly said 'thank you' and ran inside. We never talked again after that. Never acknowledged each other in the hallways or at break. It was like it never happened. But my feelings still remained.
You and my best friend had the same class. I would wait for her to get out so we could go to our next class together. I would make sure I never looked your way because I didn't want you to think I was waiting there because of you. One day, I was waiting and suddenly my best friend comes running out of class, grabs me and drags me away from everybody. She tells me that she has something to tell me but I can't freak out. At this point, I assume the worse. You know and you've told everybody that I'm a pathetic lower classmen who's in love with you. Was I that obvious? But my best friend tells me to relax; the news is good. She tells me you came up to her in class and asked about me. Were her and I best friends? Was I cool? What was I like? Did I have a boyfriend? I don't know how I didn't just drop dead right then and there and float off to heaven after hearing that.
I started noticing you notice me. I'd catch you staring at me more than you'd catch me staring at you. But still, I never did anything. And you never did anything. I was sure you asking about me meant there was some interest. I'd dream that one day you were going to come up to me in school, in front of everyone, and ask me out. Or you'd ring my doorbell and be there on my porch. It neared the end of the school year and I'd try desperately to muster any courage to talk to you but I couldn't. I was sixteen, not confident, and utterly in to you. I didn't want any other guy, period. Essentially, you were my Jake Ryan and I was Molly Ringwald, pining for you.
You graduated and I never saw you again. It's been 8 years and I still think about you. Sometimes I think I'm crazy to hold on to my feelings for you. When it comes down to it, I don't even know you. We talked once in all the years of existing around each other. So why do I still want you? Why do I still want to get to know you? Is it because there's the possibility of 'what if'? Is it because you're a fantasy I can sometimes revert to when I'm feeling sad and lonely? You have a hold on me that I've tried shaking for years.
And I wonder, do you remember me after all this time?
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