Daniel

Okay. I am, honestly, like every other teenage girl who ever lived. Seriously. I was born and bred in the typical girly fashion. I like to shop. I love to talk. I giggle and laugh, just like any other girl in the entire universe. Boys are something I’m definitely interested in. It’s just that I happen to have a knack for attracting the strangest ones.

It started at my best friend, Tyler’s, very calm—apart from the peacock that had decided it was a perfect time to try his mating call—going-away party. He was leaving to Oregon. A sad business I assure you, but there was some good that came out of it.

I was finally—after many three-way phone conversations—going to meet Tyler’s best guy friend, Daniel. I had been guaranteed that he was the funniest person on the planet. This, obviously, was a big deal. He was late, and I was anxious. I was afraid that this giant in teenage humor would find me unfit. Mind you, I had no idea it was going to have the entirely opposite outcome. When Daniel arrived, I was all a flutter.

The moment I saw him I fell for him. I don’t think it was his looks. He was okay-ish looking, don’t get me wrong, but he had a severe sunburn that was peeling—I’m serious. His outer layer of skin was literally falling off his body—and he was wearing a tattered, old ball cap.

No, it was his charm, and, boy, let me tell, did he lay it on thick. He complimented me so well that I was having a hard time keeping my face a few shades under tomato. I drank it up, though. We spent the entire party flirting. It was the movie type flirting too. We made witty comments. We laughed sophisticatedly. There was even the perfectly time tripping into his arms scene. It was fabulous.

Needless to say, Daniel and I hit it off immediately. I gave him my number, and he actually called me! We would talk into the wee hours of the early morn about anything and everything. It became an art for us, flirting over phone, but we saw each other regularly. ‘Flirt’ was a way of life for us after a while.

Later that year at school, another dance was being orchestrated. It was one of those girl-ask-guy dances. Naturally, I asked Daniel, and he agreed to go.

Actually it was more like, “Are you freakin serious? Of course, I want to go!”

“Are you sure? I mean it’s supposed to be pretty lame.” I wanted to be positive, but I was going to be spending nearly $45 after all.

“All I need is you to have a party, Chels.” My heart did that flutter thing you always hear about, but never understand. It‘s a strange sensation.
So, it was set. I had my first ever, real live date. I was ecstatic. Unfortunately, I left out on little detail. ‘Oh my God, Chelsea! What about a freakin’ dress?’ I asked my mom the same thing, if a bit edited. She, in turn, asked my aunt who looked into her closet and found a dusty, old, vintage 80’s, black and white dress.
I tried it on, via my mom’s plea. Her eyes actually lit up. She was grinning from ear to ear. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I looked like a giant poof. Just a poof. There’s not better word to describe it. I was poof.
I sucked it up, though, and wore the poof dress for my mom. Daniel looked suave, as always, in his button-up shirt and dress pants. He had put a substance in his hair very much like glue. Still, it did nothing but make him look smoother. He told me--I disagreed-- that I looked lovely. “A picture” was his exact phrase.
On the dance floor, Daniel and I stood around awkwardly for about 4.2 seconds before he swung me into his arms for a magical dance. It was only magical because I magically didn’t step on his feet. We laughed and danced, talked and flirted, drank punch and laughed some more. It was amazing.
The highlight of the date came during a slow dance. I had my head on his shoulder, and he was holding me close. I could hear him breath. I could smell his manly cologne. He was tenderly playing with my hair. We swayed to the music, lost in the brilliant moment.
Suddenly, I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. I leaned in, hoping beyond all hope that this was going to be the moment of my very first kiss. He leaned in, but he didn’t kiss me.
Into my ear, he all but breathed, “Chelsea, I have to tell you something.”
I could barely move. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered and then did some summersaults. They were obviously pleased with this turn of events.
“What is it?” I managed to whisper back.
He looked at me once more and gave me a breathtaking smile. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he leaned towards my ear again, kissing my cheek every so slightly in the process. “Chelsea,” I couldn’t stand it. I was ready to burst.
“mhmm?” I leaned my forehead against his shoulder. I was so lightheaded I could barely keep my self from falling. I was sure I was falling, falling in love with—
“I’m gay.”