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They stood on opposite sides of the room, with different groups of people. He, with his friends talking about grown-up things, politics, war, the news. She, with her friends, laughing, smiling, chatting about nothing in particular. Yet there was something about these two teenagers that set them apart from the crowds.
They had been younger then, only fifteen, but still old enough to appreciate their feelings for each other, feelings that were so intense it had scared them. Their naivety had shown when they felt they couldn't be together anymore, although deep in their hearts they knew they wanted to be. They broke up in confusion, their lives torn apart by the knowing that they were in fact, made for each other. This wasn't a silly adolescent fling with meaningless words and a few stolen kisses. This was for real, the bond between them so unbelievably strong that they felt unworthy of feeling real love. Thinking foolishly that by being apart, these unwanted emotions that catapulted them into an adulthood they weren't ready for, would simply disappear. But nearly three years later, they hadn't.
He stood gazing at her, tossing her hair, her glossy, soft, chestnut hair and laughing, like always, with her friends. He had tried to forget her; he longed for the day when he would finally be able to think of her as 'just an old girlfriend' but just one look and all self-control vanished. Maybe if he didn't see her here every month he could put these feelings aside but try as he might, he couldn't resist the chance to see her, even if it was across a crowded room at the grotty youth club. She looked so happy, peaceful, confident but her eyes seemed so lonely, sad, scared. He wanted to hug her, give her some kind of sign that he would always be there for her; but he held back, knowing that a public scene wasn't what either of them wanted. He stared at her beauty wondering why she ever liked him, a big, blundering idiot. Most girls wouldn't; he didn't really have anything to offer, but then again she wasn't like most girls. She was beautiful but in a subtle, almost magical way and talented but modest and most amazing of all she was easy to be around, great to have a laugh with. She was the girl he loved.
She glanced at him and their eyes met for only a second but in that second she lost all sense of everything, all that mattered was him. No other guy had ever affected her like this. She often wondered what he saw in her, she wasn't pretty, wasn't your typical teenage girl, wasn't as intellectual as he was, yet he liked her. He was brilliant, considerate, compassionate, clever and so what if people said he was a bit weird? He was the boy she loved.
His heart felt heavy with the shame of how he had treated her. Covering up the sadness and hurt he had felt when they had split up, he had lashed out in anger. Every time he saw her, he was reminded of the awful things he'd said to her, the hurt he must have caused her. He had regretted it ever since knowing that she would never forgive him and how could she? His behaviour was inexcusable and had probably cost him any other chance he could have had with her.
She had cried so many tears over him, but never told. No one knew just how much he meant to her. He had hurt her, broken her heart but somehow she never quite gave up hope. She knew him; she knew he had been angry, she knew he hadn't meant half of the things he said. Or at least, that's what she believed, she had to believe it or else what else was there? Knowing that the boy she loved really thought that? She looked at him, trying to gauge his true feelings, hoping they were the same as hers.
He caught her eye again and inclined his head toward the door. She caught his meaning and nodded ever so slightly in reply. They made their excuses and left the room.
'We need to talk'we can't go on like this.'
Catherine tilted her head and lowered her brow as a gesture to show that she didn't understand.
'Us, I mean you and me.'
She understood now. She felt her face burn as she waited for him to say more. Maybe this was the day she had been waiting for, she thought, maybe he would tell her that he loved her. She wanted to say it to him but her pride and stubbornness wouldn't allow it. She cleared her throat and shifted her body weight, leaning slightly away from him. He looked into her eyes and a rush of adrenaline surged through him. He wanted to tell her so much how he felt but it was apparent to him that she didn't feel the same way. Rejection from her would have killed him. He would rather live in a world of confusion with a small glimmer of hope than in one with no hope at all.
With one last, longing look, each willing the other to say how they felt, they walked together back into the room, and somehow into a world where they would always be apart'