Waiting for Perfect (24 page)

“Yeah, I just got
it.
 
I was in the shower.”

She plucks the
earpiece of her Ray Bans between her fingers, so the shades rise on her
forehead.
 
She peeks at me from
underneath them.
 
Her eyes scan my
hair, face, and then my clothes.
 
Returning her eyes to the road, she says, “I thought something looked
different.
 
It’s your hair.
 
I’ve never seen it behind your ears
before.
 
I can actually see your
face.”

By instinct, I
shake my fingers through my hair to loosen it from behind my ears.
 
It falls into my face, where I’m used
to hiding behind it.
 
Candace
shoots me a dirty look and smirks.

“So, Yogurtland for
dinner?” I ask as Candace runs a red light and pulls out of my neighborhood.

“Yeah.
 
I actually enjoyed the last time we
went, so I thought I’d invite you again.
 
Is there a problem?”
 
She
stares at me, waiting for an answer, but all I want her to do is watch the road.
 
This chick scares the shit out of me.

“Not at all.
 
I’m glad you picked me up.
 
I love yogurt for dinner.”
 
I can’t be sure, but she probably hears
my voice shaking with nerves.

“Good.”
 
She turns up the radio’s volume when a new
song comes on, and then yells over it.
 
“So how was physics with Kendra?”

When I scrunch up
my eyebrows confused, she continues.
 
“The library?
 
Kendra said
you guys were meeting after school to study physics.”

“Oh, yeah.”
 
I get a quick flashback of Kendra’s
almost naked body and grin like an idiot.
 
“We didn’t end up studying at all.
 
We went to Coto de Caza.
 
She
taught me how to drive.
 
We went
swimming.”

Candace nods
slowly.
 
Just under the music, I
hear her say, “Interesting.”

I turn down the
volume so I can actually hear the girl talk.
 
“Why is that interesting?”

She shakes her
head.
 
“Oh, nothing.
 
I mean, it’s not.
 
It’s just, well… I thought she was into
your cousin.
 
I didn’t know she has
a thing for you.”

She fixes her eyes
out the windshield.
 
I am totally
dumbfounded.
 
I try not to smile
because I want to keep my cool, but it’s nearly impossible.

“What?
 
You think she has a thing for me?
 
We just went swimming.
 
I don’t think that qualifies as having
a thing.”
 
Okay, I totally don’t
know girl behavior, but please, please let this mean she has a thing for me.

Candace looks over
at me, and a slow smile creeps over her face.
 
“Wait a minute!
 
Nicolás Veneto, you like her!
 
You have a thing for Kendra!”

“What?
 
No, I don’t.”
 
I run my hands through my hair and avoid making eye contact.

She’s laughing
now.
 
“Oh my God!
 
You totally do!
 
How did I not see this before?”
 

“Candace, I’ve just
been worried about her with everything that happened with Ryan.
 
I just care about her wellbeing.
 
That’s it.”

We pull into the
Yogurtland parking lot, and she finds a space right up front.
 
As she turns off the car, she sits sideways
to stare at me.
 
“Nick, it’s
okay.
 
I totally get it.
 
She’s gorgeous.
 
She’s vulnerable.
 
You saved her.
 
There’s, like, a bond or something
between you two.
 
It makes perfect
sense.”

I contemplate
arguing with her, but it’s no use.
 
Candace isn’t an idiot.
 
It’s probably written all over my face.
 

“Okay, I may be
into her just a little.
 
Please
don’t tell her.
 
She’s got a lot to
deal with right now.
 
I don’t want
her to have to worry about hurting my feelings.”

Candace removes her
Ray Bans and tosses them onto the center console.
 
She stares at my face without saying a word.
 
She’ll probably tell Kendra.
 
She’s one of her best friends.
 
Of course, she’ll tell her.
 
I’ll be humiliated again just like in
seventh grade.

“Okay, Nick.
 
I won’t say anything.
 
But she taught you how to drive and
went swimming with you today.
 
Don’t you think she might be into you too?”

A booming laugh
rolls out of my mouth before I can contain it.
 
I stare out the front window at all the people in the yogurt
store.
 
“No, Candace.
 
I don’t think that at all.
 
Come on.
 
Let’s go get dinner.”

SEBASTIAN

I go to the gym at
seven like I told Kendra I would do.
 
I’m not surprised when she doesn’t show up.
 

I push myself hard,
running five miles on the treadmill, lifting weights for an hour, and then
punching the bag for another forty-five minutes.
 
I let everything out on that bag – all the frustration
with Kendra and Nick and Megan and Ryan.
 
By the time I am finished, my knuckles are bruised and swollen.
 
I sit in the sauna for ten minutes, take
a shower, and then sit in my Mustang in the parking lot for another half hour
listening to Kid Cudi on my iPod.
 

By the time I get
home, it’s after ten.
 
My body is
aching, my hands are sore, and my mood is just as bleak as when I started.
 
I’m less than excited to see my cousin,
whom I’ve been trying to avoid lately.
 
Maybe he’s avoiding me.
 
Either way, we haven’t seen much of each other in the last few days, which
is fine by me.
 
I’m sick of his
negative attitude.

When I enter the
house, everything is dark.
 
I sneak
upstairs quietly, so I don’t wake up my aunt.
 
The only light in my bedroom is coming from the nightstand
lamp.
 
Nick is passed out in his
bed with his sketchpad lying across his chest.
 
I’ve seen him fall asleep like this a hundred times.
 
His dark hair is hanging over his eyes,
and half his face is smashed into his pillow.

As I’m reaching to
turn off the light, my eyes fall to his sketchbook.
 
It’s open to a portrait of a woman sketched in pencil.
 
She is vaguely familiar, and even with
the notebook upside down, I can recognize something in her eyes.
 
I gently lift the notebook off Nick’s
chest, trying not to wake him, and tiptoe away so I can observe his artwork.

The moment I look
at the notebook, I see that the woman is Kendra.
 
Her hair is in waves over her bare shoulders.
 
A hint of a smile touches her lips.
 
Nick has completely captured the depth
of her eyes and the tiny flecks of light reflected in them.
 
I knew he was into the whole art thing,
but I had no idea how talented he is.
 
He is truly gifted.

I glance at him to
make sure he’s still asleep and then flip to the beginning of his sketchbook.
 
The first couple pages are filled with
common objects – a table, a bookcase, a fishbowl.
 
Even in the most common of items, he has
found some way to capture my interest.
 
When I’m a quarter into the notebook, the images get darker.
 
There are pages of angels with torn
wings and a picture of a man scraping his fingers against a wall, like he’s
trying to claw his way out of a cage.

Halfway through the
sketchbook, I see the first picture of Kendra.
 
Her hair is pulled into a ponytail with loose tendrils
framing her face.
 
She’s grinning,
and her eyes are happy, like she’s laughing about something.

The second one is of
Kendra sitting at a lunch table at school.
 
Nick has made the background look blurred out so that only
Kendra is in focus.
 
She has
pensive eyes and a relaxed mouth.
 
I
flip through the others.
 
There are
about twenty in all, each of them capturing something significant about her.

I notice two things
about these sketches.
 
One is that
in all of them, Kendra is looking down or to her side, which makes me think she
must have been unaware that Nick was drawing her.
 
The other thing is that Nick has spent copious amounts of
time perfecting every detail about this beautiful angel, which means only one
thing.
 
He must be crazy about her.

Shit.
 
That makes two of us.

I set the notebook
on his nightstand and turn off the light.
 
I strip down to my boxers and slide into bed, trying to quiet
my brain enough to go to sleep.
 
After lying there for twenty minutes, I realize it’s useless.
 
I can’t sleep right now.
 
All I can think about is Kendra.

Nick should have
told me.
 
I would have backed
off.
 
Maybe I wouldn’t be so messed
up over her right now.
 
Maybe I’d
be getting laid by Megan or Emma or someone else who wants nothing at all from
me.
  
Maybe I wouldn’t feel
this regret about hurting her.

I remember that
first day at the gym when I promised myself I’d always make her smile.
 
But thinking of her face when she saw
Megan and me in the parking lot today, I’ve done just the opposite.
 
I wanted to hold her still and make her
understand that Megan means nothing to me.
 
But instead, she obliterated me, telling me that Megan and I
are perfect for each other.
 
She
thinks I’m a player, and looking at my history up to now, she’s right.

Kendra is gorgeous
and funny and smart.
 
She deserves
someone better than me, somebody that can cherish her and make her realize how
special she is – maybe somebody like Nick, somebody who is obviously
madly in love with her.

But the thought of
them together makes me crazy.
 
I
want Kendra.
 
I love my cousin.
 
He’s like a brother.
 
I know
he’s a genius.
 
And now I know what
an amazing artist he is.
 
But he is
a big, walking downer.
 
Kendra
doesn’t need that.
 
She needs
someone that makes her happy.
 
Does
Nick make her happy?
 
I know they
have a few classes together.
 
Maybe
he’s different when he’s with her.
 
Maybe he makes her smile in ways that I can’t.

I turn to my side
and pull the sheets up around my chin.
 
I’m an idiot.
 
I can’t
believe I’m so hung up on this girl.
 
The old Sebastian would just bag Megan and end all this sexual
tension.
 
I know she’d have me in a
second.
 
Then, maybe I’d forget
about Kendra and her soft hair and angelic smile and that banging body.
 
Maybe I’d forget about what it’s like to
actually care about somebody.
 
Maybe I could go back to not feeling anything.

Jesus.
 
I’m
screwed.

All night, I sleep
like shit, tossing and turning and having bad dreams.
 
When the first light hits the walls of our bedroom, I get
out of bed and step into my sweatpants.
 
Nick’s still asleep, as any sane person should be at the crack of
dawn.
 
It’s pointless for me to
stay in bed any longer.
 
I have a
restlessness that won’t subside, and there’s only one thing that helps me in
moments like this.

I pull on a black
hoodie, tie up my Nikes, grab my iPod, and head downstairs.
 
Some people eat when they’re stressed.
 
Some people shop.
 
Some people drink alcohol or smoke
pot.
 
I exercise.
 
A lot.
 
There was a time not too long ago when I’d be getting high
or drunk or laid to deal with my feelings, but when I left Texas, I vowed to
make a new start.
 
I had to leave all
that behind.
 
I don’t want to be
that person anymore.

I’m listening to
Wiz Khalifa and pounding pavement in the blue of dawn.
 
I try to drown out thoughts of Kendra
by blasting music into my ears, but after a few minutes of running, it’s
apparent I don’t stand a chance.
 
I
need to talk to her and force her to listen to me.
 
I need to see her.
 
I just need… her.
 
God, I’m
pathetic.
 
What the hell has
happened to me?

Two miles into my
run, I’ve almost got her out of my head.
 
My mind is drifting to thoughts about convincing the basketball coach to
let me join the team this year.
 
Just as I’m mentally commending my skills of persuasion, I see a tight
little body in neon pink shorts running on the other side of the street.
 
My ego immediately crashes.
 
It seems this girl will be my endless
curse.

Her earphones are in
her ears, and her hair is bobbing from side to side in a high ponytail.
 
I watch her for a while, admiring
her.
 
She’s so strong.
 
To carry on, keep going to school, keep
facing classmates that ridicule her, she’s stronger than me.
 
I run from my problems, and she faces
them head on.
 
I should learn from
her.
 
I need to face her.
 
I need to tell her what I’m feeling.

I call out to her,
but she keeps running.
 
She
probably can’t hear me over her music.
 
I check both ways of traffic and run across the street to meet her.
 
When she catches sight of me, she loses
her pace and pulls the earphones from her ears.

“Sebastian,” she
says.
 
“What are you doing
here?”
 
She is out of breath and
flushed with exertion.
 
She looks
irritated to see me.
 
It hurts more
than it should.

“I could ask you
the same thing,” I say.
 
“It’s
five-thirty in the morning.”
 
I try
to act confident, but I’m worried I’ll fall to my knees at any moment.

We quietly walk
together on the sidewalk.
 
She
glances over at me, and I see something in her eyes.
 
I don’t know if it’s hurt or anger, but it makes me feel
awful because I know I’m the one that put it there.

I try to muster
enough courage to bring this up again.
 
“Look,” I start.
 
“What you
saw at school yesterday…”

She interrupts
me.
 
“Sebastian, it’s okay.
 
You can kiss whomever you want.
 
I was upset at first, but it’s really
none of my business.”
 
She looks
down at the concrete.
 
She doesn’t
even want to look at me.

“But it’s not like
that,” I plead.
 
“Megan is
relentless.
 
She came onto me
yesterday in the parking lot.
 
She
kissed
me
.
 
I don’t want her,
Kendra.
 
I swear.”
 
I wait to see how she responds.
 
I can see her contemplating my words.

Finally, she
nods.
 
“Okay, Sebastian.”

I study her eyes
when I ask, “So… you believe me?”
 
Maybe I won’t have to spill my guts about my feelings for her after
all.
 

Her eyes narrow,
and I know she isn’t sure, but she gives me the benefit of the doubt.
 
“Yeah.
 
I believe you.”

I want to ask her
again just to make sure.
 
I want to
peel away that layer of strength and see her true feelings underneath.
 
She has let herself be vulnerable in
front of me, but right now, she’s hiding.
 
I want to ask her to show herself, to be honest.
 
I want to see everything in her.
 
But I know she’s not ready for
that.
 
And I guess I’m not
either.
 

Instead, I change
the subject, hoping we can get back to where we used to be.
 
I hate this awkwardness between us.

“So, do you always
run at the ass-crack of dawn?” I ask.
 

She picks up her
pace, and I run alongside her.
 
That
look of hurt is in her eyes again.
 
“No, not usually.”

“Just couldn’t
sleep?” I prod.
 

“Uh,” she
hesitates.
 
“I’ve just had a lot on
my mind.
 
And my mom’s driving me
crazy.”

“Oh.”
 
So, not only is she having problems at
school, but she’s having issues at home too.
 
No wonder she’s been having panic attacks.
 
“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she
says.

“You sure?”