“Can I borrow your sweater?” The question sounded innocent enough. I doubt if it
hid any secret messages or agendas, or if it was all part of some elaborate propaganda to
destroy my reputation, no matter how great it might or might not have been. Besides it was
a little cold outside and I could not reject a girls request, no matter how cute she looked.
And to say she was cute would be a vast understatement; to say that she was beautiful
would be an utter lie. She was one of the few girls in the world who took take your breath
away with one glance, who would make your heart skip a couple beats from just her smile,
and who could wear about anything and make it match. Her chestnut hair stopped just
underneath her shoulders and hung gracefully, bringing out the natural beauty of her face.
Her pink t-shirt definitely didn’t suit the circumstances that we were in: forced outside to
watch a football game during school hours where it was just over 50 degrees and half the
school just cut altogether. I was surprised that she stuck around, seeing that most of her
friends were probably out of the building by now. She was the new girl, and yet she was
more popular than any girl could have ever dreamed of.
I smiled lightly as I pulled the American Eagle sweater over my head; instantly, the
wintry air cut into my skin and shattered all the warmth I had gathered. I handed it to her,
slightly shivering and she took it with an expression of pure surprise and gratitude. I guess
she didn’t think I was going to give it to her. It was big on her, large and bulky, but is still
looked good on her, like anything else she wore. I sighed as I tried to make myself as small
as possible, rolling my shoulders inward as I clasped my hand and started to blow onto
them in a weak effort to keep warm.
I glanced up from my hands to watch the evanescent vapor fade into the perpetual
gusts of cold that sliced through the chilly air. I noticed a significant change in the distance
between us; she was silently standing right next to me. The air between us no longer
resembled the awkward tension of strangers but rather more of a mutual amicable aura. I
wondered if she knew that I liked her. I admired her since the day she moved her, and
couldn’t get her resplendent face out of my head, even if I tried. But I never tried to get to
know her; half the school was chasing her anyways. And besides, between school, soccer,
tutoring, and basketball, I didn’t have time for a serious relationship.
Suddenly, she turned to face me. I realized that I was staring at her and hid my face,
blushing. “Who’s winning?” she asked, in an obvious attempt to make small talk. I peered
into her enchanting eyes and felt my heart stop.
“We’re down by 14.” I answered. The rest of the period sped by while we were
engaged in a pointless conversation that seemed to consume every start of a friend I had. As
the period passed, my affected for her seemed to aggrandize with every sentence she spoke
and every time she smiled.
Over next few months, our friendship quickly blossomed into a close affinity. Soon
enough, it felt like we could share anything with each other and trust another with our
deepest secrets. My constant adulation and extolling of her, along with my abiding altruistic
mood whenever she needed something and my efforts to appease her every desire, probably
hinted at my true feelings for her. But her feelings for me were always kept an enigma,
hidden by the abstruse vibes she emitted every time we hung out; until that day that
changed my life forever.
The aphotic clouds engulfed all the light in the sky except for the moon, whose
radiance glistened on the jagged shards of ice lying on the virgin snow. The somber amber
glow from the streetlamps lit the sidewalk, making it possible for me to walk the narrow
path that some thirteen year old shoveled without getting my pants wet. Snowflakes gently
floated down from the clouds, slowly dancing in the air before they would be steeped on,
shoveled, or compacted into balls and thrown at girls. The snow made every home look like
a white mountain protruding from the ground, but I made my way to her house and noticed
the shovel on the front lawn. I picked it up and shook it vigorously, letting all the snow to
fall off. I grasped the wet wooden shaft with my bare hands and started to remove the snow
leading up to her house. But just as I began, she stuck her head out of her window and
hollered, “What are you doing?! Let my dad do that when he gets home.” I smiled as I
continued to make a path leading up to her porch. Leaping over the steps, I ran into her
home, inviting the warmth that filled the house. The TV was on mute; the glow lit up the
dark room. I read the clock that hung on the wall. It was already nine.