Personal Narrative: I M Skylar

It isn’t that he blew his chance, it’s that I never gave him one. He was just being honest, being himself, and I hurt him. Things will never be the same between us, and I won’t ever forgive myself.
We’re young and we’re dumb, and I never in a million years thought that I would end up with him. I’m Skylar, I’m small and introverted and I didn’t think anyone noticed me, but Jesse did. He’s tall and handsome, and he plays the guitar. I never thought that I would spark his interest.
It was November. We sat together in history class. It was the third- maybe fourth time he had caught me staring. I thought he was going to scowl at me or tell me to stop looking at him.
“I like your dress.” wasn’t exactly the smoothest way to start a conversation, but his comment made me blush nonetheless. It ignited a long conversation about nothing, and then about everything. Soon enough, “I like your dress” turned into “I like your smile”, which then became “I like your laugh” and eventually, surprisingly, “I like you.”

It was February.

We sat together on the swingset that we were both obviously too big for. I was counting his freckles and he was playing with my curls. I thought he was going to crack a joke or kiss my cheek.
“Happy Valentine’s Day. I bought you flowers.” was the best thing he could say to spark a conversation about everything, and then about nothing. Soon “I bought you flowers.” turned into “Should we grab some dinner?” which then became “Will you be my

girlfriend?”
It was April. We sat together in the grass, neither of us had thought to bring a blanket. I was counting the stars and he was playing his guitar. I thought he was going to sing showtunes or strum old country songs.
“Take my hand” was the last thing I expected to hear, but it sure made me blush. It wasn’t a song about everything, nor a song about nothing. “Take my whole life, too.” Made me wonder if we were taking things too far, too quick, “because I can’t help falling in love with you.”
It was May. We sat together in his car. Neither of us reached to turn the radio on. He was staring at his phone and I was biting my nails. He expected me to kiss him and tell him I’d see him tomorrow.
“We’re moving too fast.” was the worst way to bring the conversation up, and his face drained of color. It sparked a fight, an argument about everything, more than everything. “We’re moving too fast” came out as “Only fools rush in” and “we’re taking things too far” turned into “We’re done.”
It was July. We sat across the room from each other. Neither of us said a word to the other. He was back together with an old girlfriend, and I was barely talking to anyone, let alone looking to date someone. I expected him to shout vulgar things or look away when I spoke to him.
“We should at least be friends.” was the last thing on Earth I expected to hear, and a warm feeling came over me that was calming and peaceful. It didn’t spark a conversation; there was nothing to say. “We should be friends” turned into “I’ll see you in class” and he had no problem saying “I’ve moved on.”
I hadn’t moved on. I haven’t moved on. I know things will never be the way they were, and I’ll never be able to count all his freckles. I regret not giving him a chance, because it means that I blew mine.