The Boss Crush

by Penny Wylder

  Turning away from me, she starts down the hall. But I'm not ready to give up just yet, so I stay with her, and follow her. I maneuver around other kids in the hall, doing my best to keep up with her.

  “Kira, I'm begging you, please, just get her to give me five minutes. That's all I need, five minutes to talk.”

  “Oh, you're begging me, huh? Is that what this is supposed to be?” Her eyes move to mine, cold and irritated. “I'm sorry, I don't see you on your knees right now.”

  “Seriously? Is that what it's going to take to get you to help me out here?”

  “Honestly. . .” She pauses, rolling her eyes forward so she's looking straight down the hall. “No. If Dalia wants to talk to you, she will. If she doesn't, well that's too fucking bad for you now, isn't it?” Kira stops short, grabbing my arm, and spinning me to face her. “But you need to hear me, and hear me good, Lyle. I think you need to just leave her alone. You and your sister really hurt her. She doesn't deserve to be hurt anymore.”

  “I di—”

  “Leave her alone,” she demands, cutting the air with her hand. “And stop fucking following me.” Kira storms off, pushing her way through the crowded hall.

  “What the hell was that about?” my sister asks as she steps up from behind me, coming out of nowhere.

  “Jesus, Sandy,” I say, my breathing slightly labored. “Don't fucking do that. I hate when you sneak up on me like that.”

  “Sorry,” she says all snotty as her eyes open wide, and she looks up away. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing, don't worry about it.”

  “It didn't look like nothing.” She crosses an arm over her stomach as she watches Kira walk away.

  “I was just asking Kira for a favor, but it doesn't matter, she won't do it.”

  “A favor. . . What the hell do you need her for when you have me? You need a favor, you ask your sister, not a twat like Kira Benson.”

  “Right, well that's all fine most of the time, except this is something you can't help me with.” I start walking, and my sister stays with me. “Actually,” I say, looking over at her briefly, “you're the reason I need her help anyway. So, it's probably just better for you to stay out of this one.”

  “Oh, okay, I get it. This has to do with her doesn't it?” Her voice slices and spits, choking out the single word. And she's not even using her actual name.

  The way she says her goes up my ass. “She has a name.”

  “Yeah—whore.”

  Stopping, I snag Sandy by the wrist, and pull her to the side. “Why do you have to do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Say shit like that?”

  “Awe, what's wrong? Does the poor baby not like it when I make fun of his girlfriend?”

  “She's not my girlfriend, Sandy. See? This is exactly what I'm talking about.” Running my hand across my jaw, I shake my head. “You're such a bitch sometimes.”

  “Maybe I wouldn't have to be such a bitch if your taste in women was better.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she says matter of fact.

  “All right, who would you chose for me then? Sara Noones? Callie Wise?”

  “Come on, Lyle, you're better than both of those girls. You're better than majority of the girls in our school, that's for sure. I wouldn't pick anyone here.” She looks up and down the hall, glancing over the girls around us. “I can tell you whoever I pick would have to be like me.”

  “You? That's gross, Sandy, I don't want a girl that's like you. That'd be like I was dating my sister.” Sticking out my tongue, I fake gag as I hold my chest.

  “What's so gross about that? If there's anyone who's a perfect fit for you, it's your twin.”

  Is she serious right now?

  Arching a brow, I stare at her. Her lip is pulling back into a small smile, and she's staring right back. I'm questioning the seriousness of what she's saying.

  She can't really think she's the perfect match for me. We're brother and sister, that's disgusting. Shaking the thought away, I ignore the idea completely.

  She's just fucking with me, I know she's fucking with me.

  “Fuck you, stop being weird,” I say, giving her a playful shove.

  “I'm just saying that you have to find someone who's compatible, and it's definitely not her.”

  Crooking my jaw, I counter her. “Obviously we see things differently because I was going to ask her to prom, and you went and fucked it all up with your little portfolio game. Now she won't talk to me at all.”

  “Wow, you're getting shot down by a fucking loser.” Sandy laughs, adjusting her purse on her shoulder, and her books in her arms. “You're a fucking idiot, you know that?”

  “I'm an idiot?”

  “Yeah, that's what I said. You're an idiot.”

  “Please, tell me why I'm the idiot here?” I draw out my voice, making sure she knows I don't really give a shit what she thinks, or believe her anyway.

  I don't need my sister to try and give me life lessons, we're the same freaking age. We've been through the same shit. There's nothing she can tell me that I don't already know.

  “You're an idiot because you actually give a fuck about that girl and what she thinks. Why can't you see that she's a nobody? What is it going to take for you to see she'll never be on your level? She means nothing and she is nothing. We're Vox's, Lyle, mingling with a girl like her will only bring you down.”

  I know she sounds like a horrible person, but deep down I believe my sister really only thinks she's looking out for me. Sandy wants what's best for me, just like I want what's best for her.

  Of course, my sister has a funny way of showing me she cares. She'll tear down everyone around us bit by bit in order to raise us up. She's been that way for as long as I can remember.

  Some people see value in status, in objects, in possessions. That’s my sister. She measures your worth by the car you drive and the clothes on your back. It's not her fault, that's how we were brought up.

  I just haven't always seen the world or the people in it the same way my sister does.

  “Right, thank you for that powerful motivational speech. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.” Pointing over my shoulder with my thumb, I start to walk backwards. “I'm going home to get ready for tonight, I'll catch you later, San.”

  “Wait,” she says, holding out her hand. “You're still going tonight? I thought you weren't because you don't have a date.”

  “I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I?” Shrugging a shoulder, I start walking backwards. “Besides, I did rent that tux, I'd hate to see it go to waste.”

  “Sure, it would be a waste.” Sandy smiles, watching me as I go. It's a fake smile. She doesn't mean it.

  I can always feel her eyes, I can always feel her eyes. It doesn't matter where we are, but I know when she's watching me.

  I'm not sure if it's the twin sense, or just the fact that she can rip you open with one good, heavy glare. She watches me walk down the hall until I turn the corner, and out of her line if sight.

  The burning sensation dissipates as I break that tie between us.

  My tux is waiting for me at home, hanging on the back of the closet door. A small plastic box, holding a purple corsage, is sitting on my dresser next to it. Picking up the box, I twist it around, and look at the flower inside.

  It's supposed to be Dalia's corsage. I bought it for her. I spent half an hour trying to pick out the perfect one. And for what? For nothing. She won't even give me the time of day to explain myself or tell her I'm sorry.

  I didn't even do anything.

  Holding the flower over the trash, I almost let it go. And then I change my mind. I'm not giving up on this, on her, on anything that I want. I've never been someone who backs down, and I'm not going to start now.

  Slipping into my tux, I gel my hair, and spray my neck with some cologne. I'm going to the prom anyway, stag, and I don't even give
a shit. I'm leaving my options open.

  Maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe I'll get a chance to right all of the wrong she feels.

  The sign above the door reads, Winter In May. There are snowflakes dangling from the ceiling, and fake snow sprinkled around the floor. Long, flowing strings of garland, full of big silver flowers and sparkling leaves, drape from one corner of the room to the next.

  The tables have dark blue covers, and more bright white snowflakes speckle the open space between the plates. It's fucking ridiculous, if you ask me.

  No one is asking you.

  Standing in the doorway, the music thumps through my chest as I look around the room. A few of my football buddies are standing against the far wall waiting in line with their girlfriends for a photo.

  The smiles I see aren't excitement for a photo to remember the night. The smiles are for the simple fact they're getting some ass tonight.

  Moving my eyes back across the room, most of the tables are empty. Everyone is either dancing or in the photo line. I wave at a few friends, looking past them, hoping she's here.

  And then I see what I want, the whole reason I'm even standing here right now.

  Dalia.

  Fuck, she looks so damn beautiful. Her dress is red with a flower pattern tracing the right thigh and across the front edge. The dress is covered by a sheer black fabric, giving it a shadow that flickers as she moves.

  Stunning. That's the only word that comes to mind. The only word that rightfully describes the beauty on the other side of the room.

  My heart starts to race as I watch her closely. Her slow movements. The way she gently touches her lips with the pad of her finger. The way she holds her belly right before she giggles, and how her head falls back at the same time. The delicate swipe of her finger as it pulls a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and how her eyes pay attention to whoever she’s talking too. It doesn't matter who you are, she's looking at you.

  All of it. Every last drop makes her who she is. It's mesmerizing.

  She's smiling as she dances with Kira, tipping her head back to laugh out loud. She doesn't look angry or sad, and that's perfect. I need her smiling like that, it'll make it easier for me to approach her, and talk to her.

  Working my way around the room, I give lame waves, and half smiles to teammates so I can get closer to Dalia. My mind isn't on who I should be seen with, my mind is only on her.

  She doesn't notice me. So I stand back, and wait for the right moment to cut in. It doesn't take long, the song ends after a minute, and she slows down, taking a step back to get some air.

  “Dalia,” I say, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

  She jerks, spinning around fast. Her eyes expand wide as saucers.

  She doesn't say a word to me, she just turns her shoulder and looks the other way.

  It hurts. To be disregarded, her eyes full of regret and disdain send needles through my heart. My hope was a smile, instead I got the cold shoulder.

  Leaning into Kira, she whispers something in her ear. I don't know what it is, but the look on her face tells me she's wondering what the hell I'm even doing here.

  I'm here for you, and only you.

  “I get it,” I say, passively holding my hands up. “You don't want to see me, and I completely understand that. All I'm asking is for a few minutes, I really just want to talk, that's it.” I reach for her again, but not with the intention to touch her. It's to show her I'm here, but I know I fucked up.

  Kira steps between us, and her jaw cocks to one side. “I told you already, Lyle, stay away from her. If Dalia wanted to talk to you, she would have already. Take a fucking hint asshole, this ended days ago. It's time to move on, you had your chance and you blew it.”

  “Dalia,” I say over Kira's shoulder, ignoring her completely. I know she means well, but I want to hear it from Dalia. “All I want is for you to hear me out, that's it. I'm not even asking for you to forgive me, I just need you to listen.”

  “Fuck off, Lyle. Doesn't her silence tell you anything? She's telling you to get bent.”

  “If she feels that way, then let her tell me herself.” Kira gives me an evil eye, her mouth opening to probably tell me to go fuck myself. “Please,” I say, keeping my eyes on Dalia and not letting Kira get out a word. “Five minutes.”

  “Do I—”

  “No, I don't want to hear what you have to say,” Dalia cuts in, not letting Kira finish as she moves around her and stands in front of her. “I've heard enough already.”

  “All right, fine, I'll leave you alone if you just give me five minutes. That's not too much to ask.”

  Do I sound desperate? Because I am.

  I can't keep going like this. I need her.

  “No you won't,” she says, taking another small step in. “You don't know how to stop talking, you don't know when to close your mouth and just listen.”

  “I'm listening now.”

  “You're just as delusional as your sister. You're still talking, you're not listening. There's a difference between hearing and listening.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I ask, my voice aching for some direction. I don't know what she wants from me. And yet, I'm just happy she's talking to me at all. Even if it's out of anger.

  The silence is the worse. I'd rather have her screaming in my face than not hear her voice at all.

  “Just leave me alone, Lyle, that's all I want. You don't need to say anything, I get it. You and your sister had your fun, you made a fucking fool of me. You win, I get it, I'm a damn loser and everyone knows it now. So thank you.”

  I'm quiet for a moment, letting her words settle in the air. “Fine, you want me to leave you alone, I will.” I'm not going to waste my time arguing with her about the job fair. Her mind is set, there's no point. But I think we can move past it. “Under one condition.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she purses her lips. “And what's that?”

  “Dance with me.”

  “What?” she scoffs, giggling as she lets her eyes flick to Kira. “Dance with you?”

  “Dance with me just this once, and I'll never bother you again.”

  Her demeanor changes, brows snapping down hard. “Fuck you,” she barks, flaring her nostrils. “I'm not doing that. I'm not dancing with you. You don't deserve it.”

  “All right, fine, have it your way. I'll just keep talking then. I'll follow you around, everywhere you go, and I'll just ramble. I'll tell you all about the camp I went to as a kid, and the Christmas I spent with my grandmother in Florida, where I spent four hours cleaning her basement. I have a million stories, Dalia, you'll get to hear them all.”

  Kira holds up her hand, using it stop me from speaking. “Okay, Lyle, enough. You're not helping yourself here.”

  “I think I am,” I say with a smirk as I keep my eyes on Dalia.

  “Fuck—”

  Dalia sets her hand on Kira's back, and smiles. “Thanks, Kira, but this time I got it.”

  “You sure?” she asks, her eyes turning to pinpricks as she glares at me.

  She's mad, and I get it. I understand she wants to protect her friend from getting hurt. But I'm not here to hurt her. I don't want to cause Dalia any pain.

  “Yeah, I'm sure.” Dalia closes the space between us, her eyes firmly secured on mine. “What are you really doing here, Lyle? What is it you want from me?”

  Holding an open hand over my heart, I bow my head. “Just one dance, that's it. I swear. I got all dressed up, and it would kill me if I did this all for nothing. I just want one dance tonight.”

  “One dance, right?”

  “That's right, just one.”

  “And then you'll leave me alone?”

  Tipping my chin into my chest, I rest a hand on my heart. “Absolutely.”

  “Fine,” she agrees, surprising me.

  “Really?” I ask, honestly thinking it would take a lot more convincing.

  Tilting her ear to the ceiling, she listens carefully for a moment. “I
t's now or never,” she says, noting with a finger towards the speaker that the music is slow.

  Grabbing her hand, I don't waste any time, pulling her to the dance floor. Placing my hands on her hips, her eyes won't connect with mine. She’s looking all over the place. The floor, the people beside us, the back wall, the ceiling.

  What is she thinking? What's going through her mind?

  We move in a small circle, her hands timidly resting on my shoulders like I'm covered in spines.

  “I'm not going to bite you,” I say, pulling her in closer. “Unless you want me to.”

  “You said you wouldn't talk.” Her eyes finally flick up to mine, and even with the anger I can see on her face, I'm happy, because she's actually looking at me.

  Smiling through thin lips, I wrap my arm tight around her waist, and take one of her hands. I'm leading us in this dance, taking small steps. We move to the beat, swaying side to side.

  I'm trying to keep my mouth shut, I really am. It's just hard as fuck.

  Dalia is looking off to the side, avoiding me at all costs. I can't have that. I won't have it.

  It bugs me that she's refusing to even look at me. We don't have to talk, but she needs to see the unspoken apology on my face.

  Gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I force her to look at me. “I told you I wouldn't talk, but I want you to look at me.”

  “Why should I do anything for you?”

  “Because you feel it too. You feel the same thing I do.”

  Her lids lower as her lips shift to one side. “You don't know what I feel, Lyle. So don't pretend you do.”

  Running my thumb across her jaw, I lick my lips. I want to kiss her, I want to taste her, and feel her, and let her know exactly what I'm thinking.

  “I know more than you think.” My thumb sweeps around the curve of her jaw, gently moving back in the other direction. The very tip of my thumb slides across the bottom ridge of her lip, causing her to inhale a quick breath. “I know I like the way I feel when I'm with you.” My fingers push past her face and around her head, gripping her nape. “I know I like the way you feel when you're in my hands.”