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Underneath the Shells

Bobby had spent all his time conjuring up a plan to get her back. Sitting in front of her in history class, not paying attention to the professor’s lecture, he wrote up a neat little note. “Can we start over?” He handed it to her. She took a glance at it, read it and looked at bobby in confusion. “Huh? I don’t understand.” Bbby, feeling somewhat awkward, turned around in his seat and wrote some more. “Just… start over. I feel like the only way I don’t do something negative to you is if I ignore you—and I really don’t want to do that.” There shot a faint smile across his face as he handed the paper back to her. “I really don’t understand, but for what it’s worth, I consider you my friend, even if you annoy me. Sorry.” Bobby felt a bit overtaken. He didn’t know how to respond. She had missed his point. “I don’t see why you’re apologising. It just feels like whatever type of a relationship we have, in my eyes, it comes off very fluid and ambiguous. I guess I would just like something concrete—to know where I stand.” With a big sigh of relief, Bobby once again sent the paper over his shoulder. Moments passed without a response. He turned around. She lipped the word “later” to him. She was smiling.

Bobby saw her as she was waiting for her ride. He went up to her to converse, wondering if now was to be the “later” she had spoken of. She smiled upon his arrival. She started talking about the most trivial of things—gossiping and the sort. It felt to bobby as if she had completely forgotten about before. He tried to look into her eyes, if only to get her attention. She again smiled at him, for smiling was her most deadly weapon. He barely spitted out the words, “Remember about ‘later?'”

“Yeah.” She smiled again. Her ride arrived. She left.