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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1766823-Mathis
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Young Adult · #1766823
Two teen trying to figure what they mean to each other.
I was young, only about twelve, when I first met Mathis. He was a strange guy, not anything like the boys from the inner city private school I had come from. He had a lanky build, glasses, and a face full of pimples. He had a strange manner about him, one that suggested that he didn’t really care what people thought of him. He was the kid that’s mom would come and pick him up in the middle of the day because he was “sick”. I never really paid him any mind.

I moved to the small suburb outside of Indianapolis the summer before I met him. I was a snooty and snobby preteen, thinking because I had hob-knobbed with the rich kids of the private school that I was better than all of these suburban losers. Mathis proved me wrong, and he changed my life forever.

I began to admire him my eighth grade year. Many of my new friends had known Mathis since kindergarten, and they regaled me with tales of his antics from his younger years. They would always set me to laughing wildly. At this point in my life, I made it my mission to become friends with Mathis.

It was a difficult task. Mathis and I didn’t have many classes together, and his friends were the lowest of low lives. They would always scoff at me when I came around, thinking I was only there to make them feel bad, which I was guilty of doing upon my arrival at the school. But Mathis found my since of humor refreshing. “I’ve never heard of a girl who wasn’t offended by feminist jokes.” I recall him saying.

And it was true. For some reason or other, I found offensive jokes funny. We would sit together in gym, one of the few classes we had together, and laugh at various Helen Keller and dead baby jokes. My friends thought it weird, but they let us be. I had finally achieved my goal, and I was satisfied by our friendship for a couple of years, but as we reached our sophomore year, something in our relationship changed. For better or worse, I still cannot tell to this day…

It started in health, of all classes. Because of the teacher’s need to have us sit in alphabetical order, Mathis and I were seated next to each other. We would come in everyday and talk a little, ask how each other’s day had been, and make fun of our mutual friend, Linda, who sat behind Mathis and catty corner to myself. It was all in good fun, and she would return the favor.

However, as we entered into the spring play, which Mathis and I always participated in, I began to get strong feelings that I couldn’t explain. You see, Mathis had changed a great deal since that first meeting in seventh grade. He was taller now, almost six feet two inches. His completion had cleared, and he had invested in contacts, eliminating those nerdy looking glasses. The change from glasses to contacts was a major factor in what was to come; they had unveiled the pure beauty of his eyes, which were a crisp, icy blue.

He still had the strange manner, and he continued not to care what other’s thought. He still called his mom to came and get him due to “headaches”. And, for some reason, this all factored into future events, even though it had never fazed me before.

Mathis and I were sitting in the boy’s dressing room of the stage. I turned to him, my strange feelings come to the surface of my mind again. “Mathis,” I said, “What do you want to do with your life?”

He looked at me strangely. “Heather, what’s up with you? You never ask deeps questions.”

“I know, but I just can’t read you. Normally I can tell what someone wants to do with their lives, but you… I just can’t place you.”

“Of course you can’t place me,” he began. “I’m going to be and evil overlord. I will rule with an iron fist, and I’ll be the greatest womanizers of them all.”

I chuckled. “No, seriously Mathis, what do you want to do with yourself.”

“I just told you.”

I sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Ok, I won’t.”

Mathis and I would have many conversations like this one of the most memorable was when I asked him if he would ever get married.

“Are you kidding me, Heather?” he laughed. “You of all people should know that I’m a confirmed bachelor; it even says so on Facebook.”

“Really?” asked my friend Tara. She had just walked in to the dressing room. “I thought you were married to yourself?”

Mathis laughed. “No, no. I killed myself off about a month ago, so I was widowed. But, they just recently added Confirmed Bachelor, so I switched over.”

“I don’t know,” Tara began. “I get the feeling that when you finally have sex, you’ll be pussy whipped.”

Mathis sneered at her. “I don’t think so. It will go like this. I bring her home, we have sex, she makes me a sammich, and then she leaves.”

“Good luck with that,” I chuckled, leaning back on my hands.

I finally couldn’t handle it anymore. I knew what I wanted, and what I wanted was Mathis. However, my logic got in the way of things. I could ruin our friendship. It could get weird. People would talk.

It was our last performance when I finally got up the never to come on to him. We were once again alone in the dressing room, and my feelings were too strong to ignore. “Mathis?” I asked, pushing my chest forward to reveal a bit more cleavage.

“Hmmm?” he asked, looking at me.

“Have you ever wanted something more than anything else, but not known how to ask for it?”

“Why would I have to ask?” he answered. “I just take it.”

“But what if you can’t ‘just take it?’” I countered. “What if you have to go about it delicately for fear of ruining your one chance at getting it?”

Mathis turned to look at me, a glint in his eye. “What are you saying Heather?”

It was the moment of truth. Would I tell him about my feelings, or would I wimp out?

“What I’m saying, Mathis, is,” I sighed, preparing myself. “Is that I like you.” I paused; then steamed forward, not wanting Mathis to interject before I was done. “I don’t know how I want to go about these feelings. I know you don’t want a girlfriend, and I-”

“Hey,” he said softly, grabbing my chin so I had to look into those ice blue eyes. Then he kissed me. It was passionate and strong, full of power and a sense of knowing. The feelings I had kept bottled up for so long now flooded out in a fiery passion. The kiss changed from just a kiss to a French kiss, our tongues tangled together.

The next thing I know, half of my clothes are gone and Mathis is on top of me, pounding rhythmically in and out. My fingers clawed on the linoleum floor and Mathis’s sweat dripped down into my face. I wrapped my hands up and around Mathis, my nails clawing into his back. I peaked and gasped, my eyes rolling back into my head. “Oh god,” I breathed.

We heard a noise and stopped, thinking it was one of our classmates. I pulled my pants on, my whole body still tingling with excitement. Mathis finished zipping up his pants and looked at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and left the room, his eyes filled with confusion.

We dodged each other for the next few weeks. Health class became a dreaded point in both our days. It wasn’t that we were ashamed, we were both just confused.

I finally caught him after school as he tried to slide out with his sister.

“I have to go,” he whispered softly.

“Kit can wait a minute.”

He sighed and turned to Kit, his sister. “Can you give me a minute?” he asked.

“Yea, I don’t want to go home just yet. I need to talk to Laura anyway. I’ll meet you at the car.”

“What do you want, Heather?” he rubbed his head with one hand.

“I just want to know what this is now. Are we still friends? Are we more? What?”

“I don’t know what this is Heather. I liked what happened, but we can’t be… together. I think what happened should be a onetime thing.”

I nodded and he left. It took some time for us to get to being friends again. Even once we got back to normal, there was still tension. We parted ways after high school, he going to Purdue, I to Seton Hall. I haven’t talked to him since.

But next year is our five year reunion. Maybe there will be some change in us. Maybe we can finally become something more.
© Copyright 2011 Salem O'Rourke (hazelxiii at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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