I don't think I'd ever been out of the friend-zone.
And it's a shame because I thought I was pretty good looking for a nineteen-year-old freshman at an art school, where 98% of the male population is gay.
There's so much pressure on the 2%, and unfortunately I'm floating in that 2% bay.
Just a few minutes ago, a girl approached me. Very attractive--and I say attractive just out of utter respect for this beautiful human being that just graced the printing lab in Waker Hall. (a.k.a the advertising building. This was my first visit to Waker, and I was pretty damn proud of the ad I'd just created, considering I was a photography major and knew nothing about logo design or graphics. But anyway, back to the girl.)
I saw her enter through the front door. A lace dress shaping her body. A belt in wrapped around her waist. Her hair was pulled up and messy. I held my breathe for ten seconds as she strode past me, careful not to taint her air. It was in the moment just before she talked to me, that I'd planned to train myself to look behind me at timed intervals in order to see her.
But she stopped, just past a Mac.
And backed up in four swift steps.
Then she began to hum a song I didn't recognize, and walk down my aisle.
I pretended I was busy by staring at my computer, by bringing my eyebrows together.
I quickly thanked the Lucky Flannel I was wearing (we'll talk about that later).
Then realized that oh shit, she's talking.
Turn around, you idiot.
"...Adobe Illustrator?" she waited for a response.
I stared at her mouth as she said Adobe and Illustrator: the names of our kids.
I shook my head. "I-I'm sorry. I think I spaced out. What did you say?"
"I said," she stressed. "Do you know how to use Adobe Illustrator?"
This was my first day using it.
I began by showing her how to open the program, how to load files, how to bring up tools, add color, drag and drop 3D objects. The basics--I guess. Then after a while, I think she got bored with me because she only said, "okay", when I was only halfway through my tutorial.
I hadn't realized that she'd been leaning in this entire time, until she stood, and a wave of her flowery-smelling perfume washed over me.
"Thanks," she said, walking away.
"Wait," I called after her. "What's your name?"
She tucked hair behind her ear. I read somewhere that tucking hair meant the girl was interested. Oh shit.
"Jule," I whispered to myself.
"Dylan. Dylan Bartwood. I'm a freshman."
She smiled. "Junior. Nice to meet you,"
"Wait!" I called again.
The smile dropped from her lips, clearly annoyed. I should just stop now.
"Date me. I mean, would you like to date me? I mean hang out? Friday?"
Juliette sighed. "I'd love to. But I'm into girls. Just friends?"