Short Stories

Conditioner (Leave in as Desired)

One day, decide to take the long way to your locker during lunch. As you walk down a deserted hallway, notice footsteps approaching behind you. Pay no mind until you realize they're quickening. As you turn to see who it is, note that it's your girl running towards you. Quickly realize that she means to jump on you.

Catch her and hoist her up, locking your arms around her upper thighs. You're conscious of her weight in your arms; you can feel the sinewy muscles in her legs tightening. Looking down, her hair buried in your chest, she nuzzles in. Her hair is silken, tickling your ribs.

You both giggle nervously, and she tosses her head back, hair trailing behind, green eyes flashing in the white light. You lock eyes. Think, "Damn, she's fine." There's a little bit of sweat and redness coloring her face, an endearing imperfection.

Just as you start to lower your head to hers, a friend comes up the stairs and calls, "Yo, Couch!"

Your head abruptly changes direction by force of habit.

Respond, "Sup guy?"

By the time he passes, so has the moment. This goes down as blown opportunity number 1.

Gym is tied to physics, meaning it's another class you have together. Flirt just as much there, to the point where you find yourself voluntarily not participating in athletic activity for the first time ever. One day, decide to make up for your previous lack of effort and go hard in basketball. Find yourself more than a little grungy afterwards. Go to a bench outside the gym to cool off.

She comes over, sits next to you and moves to place her arm through the crook of your elbow.

Say, "You don't wanna do that," without really meaning it. "I'm all gross."

She cringes in mock fear, and dives to the other side of the bench. Her face scrunches up.

"Ewwww!!"

Watch enraptured at how cute she is. Jokingly say, "I didn't think it was that bad."

She pauses before sliding back across, slipping her arm around yours, interlocking fingers on that hand, and resting her head on your shoulder.

"'s okie. I can deal."

Slide an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer, and she nuzzles into your chest. She pulls back and wrinkles her nose.

"Just kidding," she says and her face melts into a smile. Your eyes lock. The Bell rings. And so has the death knoll for opportunity number 2.

The physics girl is an unofficial hip-hop director for SING! She's choreographing the guys' dance. They hold practice on One sometimes. You have a first floor locker. Go to watch practice on the way out.

Stand about 20 feet away from them and observe. Your girl teaches the group a series of moves, and then watches the bumbled first attempts to get them down. A few run-throughs knock out most of the kinks. She sees you in the back, and there's a glint in her eye as she looks back and tells everyone to take five.

As people disperse, she turns and runs towards you, playfully screaming your name. Catch her, smile, and look into those emerald eyes.

"How's it goin'?"

She smiles, and looks back.

"All right. They're coming along. What're you doing here?"

"My locker's over there. I was on the way out."

"Oh."

Her eyes engulf you. Feel totally taken in. There's no escape. But there is always someone ready to offer a rope - "Hey, we need you! Let's go."

Look towards the call. The group has reassembled. They need her back. She looks back at you with "this sucks" written all over her face.

"Gotta go," she says half-heartedly.

Say, "I know," as you set her down. Get a peck on the cheek for the road.

"See you tomorrow kid."

Think, "Yeah, you and opportunity number 4." You hope.

Closer to SING!, catch dance practice by your locker again. Except this time ain't so cheery. She's really letting the guys have it. Yelling the shit out of them, and then drilling them ragged to get things just right.

"Aaaaaggggghhhh!!" She screams and storms off to the side. And sees you. She gives a look that says, "I'm not happy, get your ass over here." Cordially oblige.

Walk over with open arms, and she leans into you. She's boiling over with frustration. She grabs you by the belt loops and attempts to shake you back and forth, but you're bigger than her, so she's the one who moves. She looks up, biting her lip, and a laugh manages to escape from between her lips.

Say, "That's more like it." Then ask, "What's up?"

She proceeds to go on a rant about how they suck, and they give her shit. Let her say her piece. By the time she finishes, she's lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, and you're sitting next to her, Indian style. There's silence for two minutes.

"Thanks for being here," she says, and sigh. She shifts onto her side, and pulls your arm across her body. Your leg fits into the contour of her back. Stay like that for a while, absentmindedly stroking her hair with your free hand.

Shift, and she'll follow suit and look up.

"I gotta run."

She sits full up next to you, both hands on one of yours, those green eyes pleading.

"I gotta get back to practice."

You're just close enough to feel her breath roll across your face. Her eyes give her away. She doesn't want to go. You don't either. Get up anyway, knowing number 4 is your fault.

She hooks you up with a ticket for SING!- Saturday night, Row J, Left Orchestra. Junior SING! goes first. When hip-hop is on, you don't see anyone else. Neither does she. Her eyes are locked on yours. Her movements are so automatic from practice, it's hypnotic.

The rest of Junior SING! is good, but hip-hop is amazing. (So what if you're a little biased? You're allowed.) After it's finished, everyone goes into the lobby during intermission. Spot your girl, camera in hand. Go over to congratulate her, and as she goes to hug you she suddenly recoils, with a totally apologetic look on her face. Start to say, "No, no...That was good."

But don't finish when you look over your shoulder and see the kid clutching his head where she clocked him with the camera.

Apologize along with her, and then laugh after he walks away. Give a bear hug and exchange a mutual peck on the cheek. Look into her eyes.

"Great job, kid. You guys were amazing."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Nah, for real. Y'all were illin.'"

The bell rings to signal the end of intermission.

"Gotta get back," she says.

Respond, "Yeah, to watch everyone else lose."

Flash a half-smile, a wink, and go back to your seat.

Suffer through Soph-Frosh. After it finally ends, everyone's back out into the lobby. You bump into your girl on the way to the soda machine upstairs. Kiss hello, exchange pleasantries, and proceed on your way. Grab your soda and start back downstairs.

See your girl again before you hit the stairs.

"You stalking me?" she'll ask playfully, eyes flashing.

Throw a lopsided smile over.

Reply, "Of course," as you kiss hello again.

Head back downstairs. When you're about to go in, turn back to find your friend who's sitting next to you inside. Run into your girl again, who is now with her parents. You kiss hello yet again, and she gives you the quick intro.

"Mom, Dad this is You. You, this is Mom and Dad."

They seem like quite the friendly folk. Quick pleasantries are all you have time for as the bell rings to signal the start of Senior SING! Another Peck for the road, then head off.

Size up the competition. Which wasn't much of one.

Think, "The seniors were good, but we were better."

It should be the first time in a long time that the Juniors pulled off the W. Everyone pours out into the lobby while the votes are being tallied. This massive crowd starts chanting. Juniors are claiming upset. Seniors are claiming superiority. And Soph-Frosh, well, they're just kinda there.

Everyone heads back into the auditorium to hear the announcement. Your girl is with the rest of hip-hop, about three rows back and a section over. The SU President gives a long speech that builds even more tension, but is merely delaying the inevitable.

Junior SING! wins!

A massive roar goes up through the crowd, as all the juniors rise to their feet. People start embracing and jumping around and pretty much don't know what to do with themselves.

Hug about four people you don't know before you find yourself standing three feet in front of your girl. Close the gap. She looks up.

"We did it!"

Smile wide.

"Never doubted it for a second."

She jumps up and begins to lean in, but as you catch her, take a step back to steady yourself. Note your head starts hurting because you just cracked it on the dome of a friend of yours. Turn your aching skull and apologize. Set your girl down and lose her in the crowd. Go home in opposite directions. Never cross paths again.