...and fueled by mistakes...

~

I used to know a guy when I lived on Earth. We came from a small-town nowhere. "Everyone knows everyone" and such.

He lived there since he was born, but I came around a bit later. I could tell right away he had some stuff going on in his life, but I didn't say much.

Since I lived a good life, had a stable home with well-off parents who values academics, I grew up something of a goody two shoes. Not as bad as some for sure, but I was the type to have to have good grades.

Our school was an involved, community-driven place where everyone in town had gone, so we had our nose in just about everyone and everything around, and I was the icing on the cake, having spent most of my time in just about any club or sport I felt like doing.

Did some time on the swim team, broke a local record in track and field, stuck my hand in cheerleading, dabbled in some tutoring (which I stuck with), and got into student council. I'm sure you know the type of girl I was.

I built up my fair share of points with my peers and teachers, winning a few awards, giving some speeches, all that fun stuff. Looking back on it now, I'm not disgusted or anything, but it's more just "eh, it happened." Popularity was its own fun game.

Drooling, dreamy boys chased after me all the time, and telling them all no got tiring after a while. I'm not looking for some rich guy to sweep me up off my feet by any means, but small town football boys definitely aren't my scene.

And here comes the classic love story "and then I met the love of my life."

Telling flashback stories aren't my thing. Note to the drooling, dreamy boy writing my story: God you've gotta work on your cliché backstories.

So while I was the top-dog, sporty, "popular girl," he definitely wasn't. Honestly, I can't say I'd normally have gone for the shut-in, reserved, antisocial guys, but so many things about him just made me fall hard.

Vincent slept a lot in class, was probably depressed, and barely talked. Just about everyone gave him hell in some way or other, and I wasn't much good for just sitting idly by, but there were a few small moments that showed me the world about him, and after being around him for a few years, I realized I wanted to spend my life with him.

The way he treated his friend Gabriel, for one. I'm sure you're thinking, isn't she easily competition? Maybe, but I don't think he looked at her that way, and even if he did, I still wanted to try for him. He took care of her, was there for her, and when nobody else was around, I could hear how he comforted someone that otherwise wouldn't have any hope or comfort.

He'd lost a lot in his life, including his dad. He took care of his mom, and when Violet came around, he took care of her, too. Now I definitely sound crazy for wanting a guy who's already got so many women in his life, but I saw in him a future when just about anyone in this small-town dump saw good sex or social credit.

And I mean hey, I knew for sure that he was good with women.

But I think it went beyond that. He was sincere. Aside from being quiet, he didn't have many layers. Straightforward, open, and honest. Someone I wanted to help through his pain because I know he'd help me through mine without even thinking about it.

I really could spend hours talking about how I imagined a life with him. Of course it didn't come up at first, but something that brewed over time. The little things, like how he'd lend me his jacket, told me about how only one seat on the bus has A/C and nobody realizes it, so you can get the best ride in that spot.

So, one day, I got up and dressed as best I could. A dabble of makeup, light perfume, fresh haircut, curled and conditioned, up in a messy bun, the best skirt and most enticing shirt I could find. I didn't want to be obvious, but I wanted to catch his eye.

And that day, right before lunch, during a dull, dead silent work time, I decided I couldn't wait any longer to ask him, so, forgetting that we had all those people around us and how eerily silent it was, I stood up, got in front of his desk while he was sleeping, bent forward to give him... a good look...

I was what you'd call "down bad". Anything and everything it took to win him over, I was all for it.

I hit my fist on his desk, which startled him and his ruffled hair awake, a little drool on the corner of his mouth, which was just adorable.

"Oh, hi Sage," he said groggily, barely lifting his head as though even my loud noise hardly startled him.

"Wake up!" I demanded loudly. The others began to stir, mumbling and asking what Sage was doing near that weird kid.

He came to life a little more with a confused and slightly panicked look.

I prepared myself to ask him to go on a date with me and plead for him to let me take him anywhere he wanted to go, but what came out was, "Go on a date with me!"

Keith and his posse broke completely and laughed like someone was doing something messed up, as though my asking Vincent out was a cruel joke.

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Vincent seemed wildly confused at this point. "A-are you... serious?" His face was red, but not in the lovey-dovey blush way, it was in embarrassment.

"Yes! Go on a date with me!"

The adrenaline of asking my crush out on a date... God I sound so stupid... was fueling me with all the fire in the world.

Of course, now almost the whole class was in hysterics. "That's just so cold," I barely heard Keith whimper out through his laughter. They all think it's a setup. That's messed up.

Vincent stuttered and looked like his heart could beat itself in half, but, of course, the lunch bell rang, and he wasted no time grabbing his bag and... getting away from me as fast as he could.

Not that I'm stuck up and high and mighty or anything, but... how could he turn down a date with me? I mean realistically? We've known each other for a while and I'm a beautiful (I hope) woman who's capable of being there for him and with him for his whole life and-

I'm rambling again.

Maybe it was just the fact that I was too impatient and asked him in front of other people?

I tracked him down through the halls, where he walked against the flow of people trying to leave the building and looked like he was holding back tears.

After some rather forceful and physical persuasion, I was able to push people aside and get to Vincent, and I dragged him to the side of the flow of foot traffic.

"What... do you want..." he said sheepishly, averting his eyes.

"So is that a yes?" I said as my heart danced with a victory cheer. "I'll pick you up and pay for the date. Nobody has to know I did."

~

From there, I'd scored myself a date. He's shy, but I know what's on the inside, and I know he really does like people. I just have to crack him open and get him to show it.

I picked him up at his house, where he had a very nice dark red dress shirt and black pants that looked brand new. He flustered-ly called something out to his mother and closed the door, then immediately encroached on total panic when he saw me and my car.

Not because of me, but because of what we were doing. You'll be fine Vincent, I imagined myself telling him in a "tough it up" tone.

He got in the car and straightened himself out as nicely as possible, awkwardly glancing around because he had no idea how to start the conversation.

We started on the road, and when we reached the bridge where the small town main street can get on to the big highway that passes right through, I handed him my phone and opened a music app.

I didn't know what to say either, which was new to me, but I think music does a lot of talking.

I had him put on some of his music, which was slow, melodic, and lyrical. He mouthed some of the words, but I could tell that as soon as it crossed his mind that I was in the car, he stopped.

Eventually, he gave me my phone and wanted me to put on some music. Mine was some stuff by modern pop artists, less niched. I sang along because I didn't care. Not that I have a beautiful voice, but I still sang. Eventually, a song came on that he knew very well, and since I was singing along, monkey see monkey do, and he started humming along, which became quietly singing, until the chorus came and the music meant more to him than his nervousness and he just sang out like he was the only one in the car.

After he got going I just stopped singing and smiled contently as I took in his voice. He wasn't a professional singer by any means, but he just had a voice, like he'd sung to himself so many times. A voice very comfortable singing quietly with this supported and melodic nature, like a sword that sharpened itself over time - surprisingly sharp and usable, but not a straight edge.

He realized that I had stopped, and gave me a shy look, but when I raised my eyebrows and gave him a smirk, saying, "Carry on," he went back to singing.

So for the rest of the ride we both played some of our music. Our tastes were much different, yet we could appreciate each other's music quite well. I'm a firm believer that a person's musical taste says a lot about them, and his told me that deep down, he's a very heartfelt person capable of seeing a lot in others - being that he listened to very niched music that most would turn up at first glance.

We got to the place I'd planned to take him out to, where I had already reserved a table.

He was definitely nervous and it was clear that he was out of his element, but our server was a nice lady who could totally see through the entire situation from front to back.

Vincent ordered a water, while I was feeling rambunctious and got a root beer float, which was totally out of place for an Italian restaurant, but the float was good.

We started talking, mostly lighthearted stuff. He asked what it was like playing some of the sports I did, so I told a few stories. He'd change the subject (rather smoothly) back to me whenever I tried to switch it up and talk about him.

But I was determined to open him up and get him to talk to me like I want to talk to him.

When we got our menus, I was settled right away on a mouth-watering house-special chicken fettuccine dish, and I saw exactly what Vincent was eyeing on the menu, since it was something of a specialty item and took up like a quarter of a page.

But when it came time to order, he flipped the page last-second and did a small portion of a basic pasta, which I'm assuming was to be cheap since it was me who was paying.

So after he ordered it, I held up my hand and said, "he'll have the full-size lasagna special, thank you."

The server laughed and winked, walking away while Vincent protested.

"Why'd you do that?" He almost whimpered after the server left.

I couldn't help but giggle at how cute he was.

"It's okay, you can get what you want," I laughed.

We talked some more, and I started to get him to talk a little about his hobbies, and he mentioned making characters. I tired to get him to tell me about some of them, but he didn't say much, and I couldn't pry because we got our food.

I could definitely tell he was trying to hold himself back from the lasagna in front of him. Yet another cute thing. He was a smaller boy, on the timid and reserved side, trying not to absolutely devour his lasagna. But I have to give him credit for being a very polite date. Held his fork the way you're supposed to, pulled back my chair when I needed to sit back down, all the things.

We'd finished our food, and I asked him why he liked lasagna so much, which led to a conversation about his dad and his family, where eventually he enjoyed talking about all the fun times he had with them so much that he forgot he didn't like talking.

I knew I'd catch his spot at some point or other.

From there, he realized that he was talking more and being open, but was at the point of no return, so he just talked to me one on one like we were a lot closer, which I'd always tried to be with him, but he never let me in.

That night, when we got back to the car, he seemed in much higher spirits, and I'd call it a successful date. I took him home and we listened to more music, but it was quiet while we talked the whole way home. I thought that maybe he and I actually had a good chance, but I'd have to keep playing it slow and careful, because he's not the type to take well to being rushed.

But there was one thing I couldn't help myself from.

Just before he got out of the car, I stole a kiss from him. At first, he was confused, and it was more of a small peck, but when he decided he liked it, we had another, longer one, before he then blushed and hurried inside.

I merely cheered out loud, savoring that memory for eternity.