Read Waiting for Perfect Online
Authors: Kelli Kretzschmar
Changing the
subject to get her smiling again, I say, “Do you think we’ll get busted?
I think I heard that campus monitor
yell your name.”
I glance to my
side to see her reaction and try to keep a straight face.
“What?” she
gasps.
“Are you serious?
Oh my God!
My mom is going to kill me!
I can’t believe this.”
We walk a few more steps before she realizes I’m joking with her.
I can’t hold back a smile any longer.
A big grin breaks
out across her face, and she slaps me on my shoulder.
“Sebastian!
You
jerk!”
We’re walking
toward Starbucks, both of us sweating in the heat, and the idea of a
Frappuccino makes my mouth water.
I consider asking Kendra about what happened at school to make her cry, but
that would make her sad again, and I want to keep a smile on those pretty pink
lips for as long as possible.
I
want her to be able to count on me to make her feel better.
At Starbucks, I
order a caramel Frappuccino, and she orders an iced vanilla latte.
I pay for both of us, and then we go
sit on a couch together near the front of the coffee shop.
She crosses her legs as she leans back
into the cushioned sofa, sipping from the straw of her latte.
“So did you always
live in San Antonio before you moved here?” she asks.
I take a sip of my
drink.
I don’t really want to talk
about myself or the reasons that led me to Orange County, but I answer
her.
“Yeah.”
“Did your dad
change jobs?
Is that why you
moved?”
She looks intently at me,
waiting for a response.
It’s an honest
question that I don’t quite know how to answer.
“Uh, no.
My
dad’s still back in Texas.
I’m
staying with Nick and my Aunt Maria.”
“Oh,” she says,
taking another sip off her straw.
Before she can ask
any more questions, I say, “So what class are you missing right now?”
“Physics.”
“Oh,” I say, glad
to have so easily changed the subject.
“Hey, are you reading
Heart of Darkness
in English?”
She nods.
“Yeah, we’re about halfway done.”
“It’s a weird
book.
I can’t get into it.”
I sip my straw and stealthily inch a
bit closer to her on the couch.
I
can smell her strawberry lotion or shampoo or whatever it is she uses, and I
want to get closer.
She doesn’t seem to
notice that I’m moving toward her until our knees touch and her eyes travel to
the place my shorts meet her bare leg.
I wonder if she’ll scoot farther away, but she doesn’t.
“It’s a great book, Sebastian.
A classic.
You should really try to read it.”
“I just don’t
understand why we need to read it.
What’s it even about besides a guy floating down the river?”
I’m just providing idle chitchat
because I don’t want to talk about San Antonio, but I see the wheels spinning
in her head as she seriously considers an answer.
She takes the last
sip of her latte and sets the empty cup on the table in front of us.
She looks pensive, staring off into
space for a moment before saying, “I think it’s about choosing the lesser of
two evils.
Marlow sees himself as
a moral man, yet he is thrown into a nightmare, where there is no good to
choose from – only evil.
Does he see the evil and choose to do nothing?
Or does he bond to the evil like Kurtz did?”
I sit quietly,
thinking about what she said.
She
must be a book nut or something.
How the hell did she get all that from reading a story about a guy on a
riverboat?
She must be even
smarter than I thought, which makes me think she probably would never be
interested in a dumb meathead like me.
“That’s one way to look at it,” I say.
Impulsively, I
scoot a couple inches away from her, feeling the full effect of my broken ego
again.
I’m not even going to try
to respond to her analysis of the book.
I’ll end up sounding even stupider.
I slurp the last of my Frappuccino through my straw and
stand up.
“Well, angel,
what’s next?” I ask.
She stands too,
fussing with the hem of her shirt, pulling it down over her perfect hips.
“I don’t know,” she
says.
“This was your idea,
remember?”
KENDRA
It’s hard for me to
even form words when I’m standing next to Sebastian.
He’s a god with his dark hair, bronzed skin, and deep brown
eyes.
He stands at least six inches
taller than me, and I can see almost every ripped muscle under his tight, navy
shirt.
I just about died when he
was sitting so close to me a moment ago.
I could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and I wanted to get even
closer.
I almost reached for his
hand again, but then he slid away from me.
I guess he realized we were sitting too close.
When we stand, I
try to cover my massive hips, always self-conscious about them.
He eyes them briefly, and I wonder if
he thinks I’m fat.
Plus, I’ve got
a huge pimple brewing under the skin on my chin, which I’m sure is red and
swollen.
And because I was crying
earlier, my mascara is probably a mess all over my face.
“Before our next
stop, let me use the restroom real quick?” I ask, trying to get to a mirror so
I can make sure I’m halfway presentable.
Standing next to Sebastian in all his glory makes me feel miniscule.
He nods and flashes
his dimple.
“Of course,” he says
as he sits again on our couch.
Now
it’s
our
couch.
I have a feeling that I will forever
think of the couch in this Starbucks as
our
couch.
I make my way to
the bathroom and flip on the light.
Standing in front of the mirror, I’m horrified.
My mascara is worse than I thought, and
I quickly grab a tissue to wipe away the excess.
Fortunately, the zit on my chin is not as hot pink as I
feared.
My lips are a little pale,
and my lip-gloss is in my backpack – which is still out on the couch with
Sebastian.
Oh well.
I adjust my shirt
again, trying to appear less huge, and flip the light switch off as I head out
the door.
When I reach Sebastian,
he has my backpack over his shoulder and is wearing the most delicious grin on
his perfect, chiseled face.
God,
is he trying to kill me?
“So did you decide
what we’re doing?” I ask.
I try to
take my backpack from him, but he shrugs me off and tightens his grip on it.
“Yeah, I did, but it’s
a surprise.
Do you trust me?”
He’s giving me a wicked grin, and I
can’t help but smile back.
“Yes,” I say
honestly.
I don’t know how that
happened.
Ryan all but destroyed
my trust in anyone, and Lexi’s secrecy didn’t help much either.
But I do trust Sebastian.
He’s helped me in ways not many people
have.
“Yes, I do.”
“Good, then come
with me.”
We walk out the
door and are immediately blasted by the October heat.
He leads me down Oso Parkway until we get to a trailhead
I’ve never even known was here.
I’ve been living in this town my whole life, and here comes Sebastian,
showing me new things around town when he’s only lived here a few months.
We start walking
the trail and are led under the Oso Parkway overpass.
I hear cars zooming by overhead, but under the bridge, we’re
alone.
The shade is welcome, and
the cool earth surrounding us brings relief from the heat.
The bridge is supported by massive
columns that extend about a hundred feet from the ravine below.
The trail drops off into the ravine on
our right.
I move away from the
ledge like I could fall at any moment.
I’m looking straight
down the side of the steep cliff, when he asks, “What is it?”
I take in the sight
of the immense span of space between the ravine and the bridge overhead.
“Did you know they call this ‘Suicide
Bridge’?”
He looks
dumbfounded.
“No.
Why?”
I analyze the height
of the bridge and think about what it would do to a fragile human being to fall
off its edge.
“There have been
several jumpers here.
There are
two more bridges like it – one on Santa Margarita Parkway and one on the
Toll Road.
People have jumped off
all three of them.”
His face drops, and
I see that he regrets bringing me here.
I don’t know why I
even brought it up.
I don’t want
him to think I’m contemplating killing myself.
Before he can say anything, I continue.
“I’ve never been down here before.
Thanks for taking me.
I like it.
In a way, it’s kind of…peaceful.”
“Are you sure?
We can leave if you want.
There’s just something I wanted to show
you.”
“No, I don’t want
to leave.
I’m glad we’re here
together.”
I smile reassuringly,
and his grin returns.
“Okay, good.
But, for what I’ve got planned, we’ll
need a…” He sets down my backpack and starts to unzip the front pocket.
“Hey!” I
interrupt.
“What do you think
you’re doing going through my things?”
I laugh as he snaps his head up, surprised at my reaction.
“I was just looking
for a marker.
Do you have one?”
I kneel by him and
shake my bag loose from his grip.
“I do have a marker, but let me teach you one very important lesson,
Sebastian Veneto.
Never
go through a woman’s purse without
her permission.”
He shrugs, trying
to pull the bag back into his possession.
“But this isn’t a purse.
It’s a backpack.”
“Same thing!” I
yell, swatting his hand away.
I look in the front
pouch of my backpack and find a green Sharpie.
Handing it over to him, I say, “Here.
Now what’s your big plan?”
He takes the marker
from me and stands.
My eyes follow
him as he makes his way up the dirt wall that slopes from the trail to the
bridge above us.
“Come here,” he
instructs.
I obey, climbing the
dirt hill until I’m standing next to him.
Once I’m close
enough, he points to a small space of concrete where the dirt meets the street
overhead.
“Look,” he says.
There is a four-foot
tall block of cement covered in script of all different colors and styles.
Apparently, this is where people come
to share their innermost thoughts and dreams, because the phrases printed on
the wall are all pretty personal.
I move closer to
get a better look.
I wish that my brother’s cancer would disappear.
I want my mom and dad to stop fighting.
Please let me get into Harvard.
I wish I wasn’t gay.
I hope I make the cheerleading team.
Tracing my hand
over the inked phrases, I read only a handful of the hundreds that are covering
the wall.
I can’t believe this is
here, underneath a street I’ve driven on my whole life.
“Sebastian, what is
this place?” I ask, still reading the script on the wall.
He steps closer to
me and says, “It’s the Wishing Wall.”
He points to the top where the name is written in bold lettering.
“I found it a few weeks ago when I was
running this trail.”
I continue reading
the messages on the wall.
In the
midst of the profound and meaningful wishes are other ones like –
I wish Abby Reed would go down on me
and
I hope Mr. Lancing chokes on his midterm
exam
.
I snicker as I read
them.
He holds out the
marker to me.
“Do you want to make
a wish?”
I look at it in his
hand and wonder what I would even write.
I have a lot of wishes.
Can
I choose just one?
I wish I’d
never gone to Jeff’s party that night.
I wish Lexi had told me what had happened.
I wish my classmates wouldn’t hate me anymore.
I wish I had a mother who actually
loved me.
I try to think of
something I could write that would encapsulate the entire scope of my wishes,
some theme that could connect them all together in one phrase.
Finally, I think of something.
I take the pen from
him and say, “Yeah, Sebastian.
I
do want to make a wish.”
I scoot
up to the wall and find a blank space that seems to have been left just for me.
I sense Sebastian come
up behind me.
I can feel the heat
of his body at my back.
He lowers
his head so that his lips are right at my ear.
Goosebumps rise all over my body with the thrill of his
closeness.
“You deserve all
your wishes to be granted, my dear Kendra,” he whispers.
“Wish big.”
He can’t see the
smile that erupts from me with his words.
His nearness consumes me.
If I turned to look at him, our lips would be touching.
The thought of it, the need for his
lips on my own, almost possesses me.
I want to feel him, taste him.
But he would
probably freak if I kissed him.
There’s
no way he’d want me.
I am just
plain Kendra, nothing but panic attacks and drama over here.
I take a deep breath, trying to exhale
any desire to be close to him, trying to save myself from any more pain.
I tighten my grip
on the Sharpie, put the point to the wall, and start writing.
Sebastian backs away, maybe wanting to
give me some privacy, but maybe because he came to his senses about how close
he was to me and backed off before I got the wrong idea.
When I’m finished
scribbling, I put the cap back on the marker and back up a few steps to look at
my wish amongst the others.
Sebastian steps
closer so he can see what I wrote.
We both stare at the wall while he reads my wish aloud.
“
I wish for something perfect
.”
I can feel my
cheeks redden.
“I don’t know.
Pretty stupid, huh?”
My eyes drop to the ground, and I use
the toe of my sandal to kick a pebble down the hill.
He closes the gap
between us, and when he’s standing right in front of me, he puts his palm on my
cheek and guides my face up so he can see my eyes.
“It’s not stupid.
It’s honest,” he says softly.
“What is your ‘something perfect’?”
I shake my
head.
“I don’t know.
I’ll know it when I see it, I
guess.”
Staring into those
beautiful brown eyes of his, perfect looks pretty damn close to Sebastian
Veneto.
“Not many things
can be perfect, you know,” he says.
“I know.
Just
one
thing – that’s all I want. One thing in my life that’s
perfect – not difficult, not tainted – just…perfect.”
He’s staring into
me.
I can see tiny specks of gold
in his mocha eyes.
He probably
thinks I’m a lunatic.
I don’t even
know why I wrote that stupid wish.
He scans my face,
pausing at my lips.
Then, he
reconnects with my eyes.
Sweeping
a rogue hair from my forehead and tucking it behind my ear, he lets his hand
drift to the back of my neck.
For
a second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
I want him to.
Badly.
My whole insides are on fire waiting
for him.
I’m just about to
close my eyes and pucker up, when he abruptly drops his hands to his
sides.
I instantly feel the cool
emptiness of where his hands were touching my skin.
He takes a step back, and I’m left wondering what the hell
is wrong with me.
Of course, I
already know.
I’m not like Emma or
Megan.
I’m not beautiful.
I’m a fat cow with smudged mascara and
a huge zit on my chin.