On Making a Move

     “Yes!” She shouts after earning another A on her test. 

     “How do you do it?” I stutter baffled at how she passed the un-passable. I study so hard but barely receive a B. I always try, on everything, and it never really works out in my favor. Chassidy, my best friend, has everything going for her. It’s Junior year and she already has hundreds of dollars in scholarships, she knows who she is, she knows what she wants, she has a great relationship with her parents, her girlfriend is insanely hot and they are extremely happy together, and things always work out for her. 

     “I’ve learned how my brain works. I know the fastest ways to study and I always pay attention in class. Maybe if you didn’t sleep you would too.” She’s really snobby sometimes, and if I wasn’t in love with her I would have probably left by now. It’s a conversation we’ve had before. She told me, “the sexuality gods made me gay because we aren’t meant to be together but we are meant to be in each other’s lives. That’s why we’re best friends.” That’s the thing, she always makes me feel better even when I know she’s making things up.

     “Are you excited for the Halloween Party tonight?” She is finally letting me take her to a party. My kind of party. She usually stays home and blogs about who knows what, but I spewed to her a lecture about how this time next year she will be interviewing for colleges and that she needed to have this one high school experience while she still could. She bought it. 

     “For the first time, yeah. I think it’s gonna be fun.” She smiled and I melted instantly. Her girlfriend came over to our table and wrapped her arms around Chassidy. I could tell she melted the way I had a moment ago. 

     “What are you excited about, Babe?” Her undeserving girlfriend asked.

     “A House party… John talked me into it. I think it will be fun.”

     “When is it?” I hate how caring she is, because there is nothing I can hate about her. Call me selfish, but I wish she would just be with me. Even if I don’t make her as happy. I leave and retreat to my house where I get a quick power nap. I need plenty of sleep if I’m going to make a move on a lesbian. I need to be strategic, calm, and clever.

 

     Picking her up for the party makes my heart race. Her scent, her eyes, her voice: it’s all too much and it’s overwhelming. Driving to the house in the middle of nowhere she listened to music on the radio while I remembered when we first met. In kindergarten, nobody wanted to be her friend because she dressed like a boy. She got really hot freshman year, the same year she decided to be gay, and since then this whole friendship has been a disappointment. I constantly do things for her and never get what I want. I can’t wait to show her what I’ve got and show her how much fun I can be. When we arrived I parked far enough away that if we needed to escape to the car, we could have a lot of privacy. She didn’t question it but I told her that it was so we didn’t get blockaded if cops show up. Walking in with her was the proudest moment of my life. Showing my best friend off made me happy to not only know her, but excited to be the one to convert her. That’s what I was doing, right? Converting? Oh well, either way I got her to down a shot or two and she started dancing on me. The way her hands glided over my chest and down my stomach. I stood frozen, yet my body temp was burning. I wrapped my hands around her fragile hips and pulled her in. Was it right to drug her? I don’t know. But it worked. Next thing I knew we were in a room upstairs and we fit together in harmony. She was small, and I was big. She didn’t move, and I moved for her. I could see her falling asleep but I didn’t stop. When she woke up she would enjoy what was happening. I couldn’t stop. She was heroin and every taste and thrust pulled me into another. Man if only she were awake to feel what I was feeling.

 

     The next morning I woke up next to the love of my life, and could not stop smiling. Except for the fact that her clothes were on and she sat upright, hugging her knees, and staring forward. “You ready to go, babe?”

     “Yes. Don’t call me that. Take me home.” She demanded. Maybe she was tired, I did keep her up pretty late. I couldn’t sleep after what happened either. That’s why I kept going. In all the porn I’ve watched as practice, the girl always thanks the guy afterwards. So I already knew what I was going to say after she thanked me. But it never came. 

     We were pulling onto her street when I finally asked, “So what are we?” She held herself tighter and began to cry. They weren’t happy tears. They were harsh, and never ending. I pulled into her driveway and put my hand on her shoulder the way I usually do, but she yanked herself away as if I was a stranger. “What is wrong with you?”

     “Wrong with me?! Look what you did to me! I trusted you. I trusted you and you took advantage of me! No, no. You didn’t just take advantage of me, you claimed me as some kind of property! The only thing wrong with me is that you ever got in.”

     “Don’t say that. Don’t point fingers. You didn’t stop me and you were asking for it the way you were dancing on me, Chass. Don’t play the victim here.” Her eyes filled with hot tears and she slammed her door so hard I almost didn’t hear what she screamed at me. I guess she wasn’t ready for all of this to happen so fast. I’m not a rapist, and she’s not a victim. I’ll give her some space and hopefully she’ll see that. 

 

     As time is going on I’m noticing that she isn’t coming around. She won’t even look at me. I texted her asking what flavor condoms she likes and she blocked my number. I went to our normal lunch spot and she wasn’t there. She was sitting at the jock table with Beth who was holding her more than usual — probably to make me jealous. I snapchatted her asking what the hell was up and why I had to sit alone. It didn’t even deliver. What is her problem anyway?! She slammed my door, screamed at me, made me sit alone, made me jealous, and never thanked me. She is so far out of line that I wish I could move on, but I like the challenge. Finally I’m getting a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

     “Hey it’s Beth,” Chass’s girlfriend, “we need to talk.” Probably has to tell me how she hates me for stealing her girl.

     “Okay, what’s up?” 

     “Chassidy is pregnant, and she is having an abortion and you have to pay for it.” I froze in the breathe she took to finish. “Your parents don’t have to know, but if you don’t we will contact the cops and you will be charged as a sex offender. It will be $500 and her appointment is next Wednesday. We need cash.” And then it was over. Her voice was gone. I stood, motionless, and unknowing of what to do. I was angry that my best friend would be so selfish and abort our child without consulting me first. But I am also extremely excited to be a father! I can’t wait to tell our son about how I got his mother, and give him tips to do the same. I won’t pay for it, and nobody will believe her anyway. Finally, I am through with her games. I click the Facebook app and type her name in the search bar. On her timeline I type two words. “Call me.” I can’t believe she expects me to pay for this. Its murder and this isn’t her choice anyway. It’s mine, I’m the father.  

     When she calls, I answer almost immediately because it’s been too long since I’ve heard her voice. “I’m not paying for it. But I’ll take custody.”

     She pauses and the silence turns me into a steaming kettle. “I am not having this child. I am not giving up school, giving up my future; I am not doing this, John.”

     Anger is boiling over but I have to be the good guy, “Yes you fucking are, Chassidy. You’ve had your whole damn life handed to you and this is one setback that you can handle. Stop being so selfish.”

     “I’m being selfish?! You got me pregnant because you can’t get through your head that I will never be with you. You got me drunk, drugged me, and you fucking raped me! I haven’t had anything handed to me! Especially this, you forced this upon me and I’m not doing it. This is my choice and it’s not my fault. It’s yours.” She takes a hesitant moment to breathe. I can hear her pacing. “You know what. You need help. Fuck you.” She hangs up with burning fury. And my heart is broken. I don’t know how to feel other than betrayed. Did she use me? Why does she want me to feel this way? If she wants this done, I can’t stop her. But I won’t pay for it.  
    The next day at school I wait at our spot, like usual, because even though I am mad at her I am still a good friend. Amanda walks passed me, and stops. “Hey John, are you going to Christi’s party this weekend?” Her smirk is adorable and gave me this new feeling. It was the feeling I used to have towards Chassidy.  

    “I didn’t know about it, but where is it?”

    “Here’s my snapchat, I’ll send you the deets if you come with me.”

    “Okay,” She is so confident and calm. Straight to the point. She’s cute, maybe I’ll make a move.  

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