Inward CringeMature

Inwardly Cringing:

Nathan POV:

I went through Mandie’s profile to find her. Searched her name and up it came, I hesitated for a second, but then pressed the button and knew that I was screwed.

Two and a half hours later, I reopened the site after writing a third of a history essay I knew I had no hope of completing in the next three lifetimes. There was a notification sitting at the bottom of the screen, and eagerly but also slightly pathetically, I almost sped my mouse to open it. She’d accepted! My stomach did a little flip, but I wasn’t entirely sure why.

My fingers hovered over the keys as I considered writing a million different things to her – You’re pretty; you smell nice; you confuse me... My sense got the better of me and I ignored the screaming of my idiocy and licked my lips, typing the most logical thing that came to mind.

“Hey, ty for the add... you came up on my sidebar and I thought I’d add you... hope that’s okay? Hope I didn’t flatten you earlier either?!

Xx Nate.”

                I had clicked send before I genuinely realised that I had put Nate. Not Nathan, but Nate. Bloody hell! Nobody called me Nate. Nate wasn’t my name... but I wondered. It might have sounded nice coming from her lips, she might have put a little emphasis on the ‘e’ sound, pronounced it with a little more ‘y’ when she said it, so it sounded like ‘Nayte’.

                Folding my arms and pulling my jumper over my shoulders, I crossed my legs like a primary school student and tried to finish the damned essay, my fingers drumming on the keyboard as I felt extremely distracted. Two hours later, I returned to my profile and felt my stomach backflip as I saw she had replied to me. We had a conversation going, even though it was clipped and slightly awkward.

“Heyhey. No problems at all.

I’m alright, bruised sense of dignity, but I’m used to that. Did yu sort out your cwk with Mand?

xXx”

                No. I did not flipping sort out the coursework. No I did-flipping-not, and she knew that.

“Gdgd, at least the dignity’s used to it.

I feel just about the same – I walked into a door on my way out.

Coursework is stupid, as usual. What’re your subjects, by the way? I know you said them, but... I kinda forgot.

x”

                I smiled. That would definitely explode into a quality conversation, I’m sure. We could talk about school forever, I know we could.

                A few seconds later, I found myself going over the thoughts I had just had. Rolling my eyes at myself, I also realised that I was totally delusional and probably utterly insane.

                Shutting down the desktop for a while, I sat back on my bed and picked up my history textbook, irritated that the work was so hard, and that beneath the sheet with the essay title on it, there was a pack filled with chemistry work, all of which I knew I would have no chance of completing. Ever. I couldn’t actually do chemistry, but I wanted at least a single science in my arsenal when I applied to university. History, Art, Chemistry and Economics. Four choices, from totally different subject areas, simply because I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do.

                I drew my knees up to my chest and started working, my head suddenly pounding, and my stomach still cringing. My hands clasped together without me wanting them to, and I bowed my head to touch them, I swallowed and my heart pounded.

                She. She was sitting there, every time I closed my eyes, I could see her, and it made my heart beat faster. It was a crush, that was blatantly obvious, but every time I looked at her, the longer I held her gaze in the common room, or heard her laugh, or Mandie told me about an escapade that had occurred in a lesson with them, I thought the infatuation subsided a little, and genuine adoration took its place.

                Trying not to get my hopes up before bedtime, I switched my laptop back on and deliberately got rid of the history essay, hating it beyond belief and determined not to look at it. I sighed and double clicked on my Facebook tab again, biting my bottom lip as I hoped in vain for a reply.

                Just before I logged out, I noticed a small white ‘1’ next to my inbox, at the top of the screen. Clicking on it, I felt my jaw drop. Private message. Katie Rosstow.

                Shit.

“Nate.

Please don’t take this the wrong way, please.

I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but... stop. Stop staring, stop looking at me, stop trying to be my friend. You were rude, and arrogant, and I’m slightly afraid of your lack of knowledge about personal space.

I know I sound mean, but please.

Leave. Me. Alone.”

I think I felt sick. I think I felt hurt. I think... I think I may have teared up a little in the corners of my eyes, but I wasn’t sure. Nothing actually made me feel for the best part of ten minutes, I think, I simply stared at the black and white picture that accompanied her little rant, and questioned it, lots. My lips pouted, naturally, because I wasn’t getting what I wanted, and I felt ill.

“Why?”

                I replied the single word, and decided I would drown myself in the shower.

It took all my strength to sign out, took me all the time I could to force myself to move the pointer to the right, make it click, and as I hovered my mouse over the single word ‘logout’ I froze as something flickered up onto the screen at the bottom.

One New Notification.

Katie Rosstow wrote on your wall.

The End

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