I Regret That

Dustin was standing in the hall after lunch in all his stocky red-headed glory. He always stood in the same spot after lunch, waiting for the bell to release us. I always sat across from him, silently glad I was close to him.

This year my closest guy friend was in Germany. People used to think we were an item, and for a while we were infatuated with each other, holding hands under the table, sharing secrets. But we never kissed, and finally, the infatuation wore off and we were like brother and sister.

Dustin didn’t know that. All he knew was that two years ago in basic auto shop class, I being the only girl there who didn’t already have grease under her nails, told him I wouldn’t give him my phone number.

He didn’t know that there was a prank caller who had forced my parents to change it. He didn’t know the prank caller could have been in that room. And he didn’t know how extremely flattered I was that he asked, nor how hurt I was when he stopped holding the door open for me.

I never apologized.

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