“….and if you give me this chance. I promise to love you no matter what. Come rain or shine, you’ll always be mine.”
Khloe’s smile morphed into a grimace at that last line. Was she overdoing it? That last line felt too cheesy, even for her. And she was literally the queen of cheesy. It was bad enough that she chose a medium as old-fashioned as stone grinders to convey her feelings rather than just sending a text or better yet, saying it in person. But no, she had to write a love letter. She only hoped he wouldn’t laugh in her face at such a primitive method.
It wasn’t easy owning up and finally confessing her feelings after more than ten years of solid friendship. He was her best friend whom she’d had a solid crush on for that long. It sounded so sad each time she thought about it. Of course, she’d live up to the cliché storyline that had been showcased in thousands of teen movies.
The little girl becomes friends with the little boy who just moved in. They become best friends, and either party start crushing on the other, and in her case, she was the one doing the crushing. And then the girl never gets to tell the guy that she’s in love with him and watches him flirt around with other girls till he finally meets his Miss Right and she’s left dejected, alone and full of regrets.
Shuddering out of her nightmarish thought, Khloe wished with all her heart that her story wouldn’t become yet another teenage stereotype. But at least, Desmond was no flirt. Or maybe he was and she was just too blinded by love to see it. Maybe….
Nope. She wasn’t going to overthink this. Even as she proofread her letter and made sure no comma or full stop was out of place. Old habits died hard and she wasn’t going to compromise on her immaculate grammar technique just cause of some stupid letter.
Correction. Definitely not a stupid letter. She hoped the lilac-scented paper wasn’t a dead giveaway. Desmond knew it was her favourite flower. And if the immaculate grammar wasn’t enough to reveal her identity, the scent of the paper ought to do the trick.
Khloe knew that Desmond wouldn’t be at home because of football practice. Yeah, it was no surprise that her best friend would become a jock. One minute, he was a gangly teenager with constant acne breakouts and ragged features and now he was a man, with a baritone that could shake the heavens and features, so defined, it would put Adonis to shame.
Catching herself before she started drooling about her best friend for the thousandth time, she traipsed to his house, using the back door and was in time to keep the letter on his reading table before she heard the door open and loud laughter following. Just her luck. He had to come home with friends today of all days.
Oh my God, there was no way she was going to escape in time, Khloe thought. Quickly, she fitted herself into the closet he hardly ever opened. Praying there were no bugs or worse, spiders waiting for her. And then held her breath when she heard the laughter right in the room.
“Yo man, I’m telling you. My eyes are on that girl.” That was Desmond’s voice. What girl was he talking about, she mused. Fighting to overcome the overwhelming jealousy, she kept listening.
“You wish.” A guy scoffed. Carlson. Khloe could recognize that rich tenor anywhere. “From what I’ve heard she’s still hung up on that Princeton ex of hers.”
“Why the good ones always got to be taken bro.” Desmond sighed with regret.
“Yo man what’s this? Girls be writing you love letters now huh.” Carlson teased.
From where she was, Khloe held her breath. She knew they had started reading the love letter. How she wished he was reading it alone. Damn, that meddling Carlson. Her thoughts were interrupted by loud guffaws.
“Bro, whoever this is, you’ve got to date her. I mean look at those lines. She’s got to be a poet or something.”
Desmond didn’t reply as he looked at the letter. There was something familiar about it, yet he couldn’t place it.
“You think it’s Jenkins?” Carlson offered.
“Bro, are you crazy? Ain’t no way it’s Khloe with her nerdy self. I swear, the day she stopped being a geek would be the day. She’s a good sport alright, but nah. Couldn’t be her.”
In the little closet, Khloe felt her heart squeeze with sadness. She clutched her chest to ease her breathing, but Desmond wasn’t done shattering her heart.
“Besides, even if she were the one,” Desmond continued, “Khloe knows it can’t ever work out between us. Heck, she’s practically my little sister at this point.”
Khloe’s tears flowed in torrents. Yeah, definitely lived up to the rejected best friend stereotype. Of course, he’d have nothing romantically to do with her. She was the geeky friend. Or sister, because he’d just sister-zoned her. All his obliviousness when she made passes at him, treating his birthdays like it was hers, doing all of that. He didn’t see it cause he’d already steeled his heart against her. He’d locked his heart and didn’t even give her a chance.
Oh my God, she was still in his closet. If he saw her, she was going to practically dissolve in humiliation. Figuring a hole in the closet, she ambled to look in and to her horror, lost her stance, sprawled gracelessly on the floor.
A gasp followed.
“Khloe?”
And for the first time, Khloe hoped with all her heart that the ground would swallow her whole and never let her up.
This is my submission to The Inkwell Monthly Contest. All Rights Reserved. Copyright©️ Jhymi || 2023
