Chapter 13: Forget Her

Daphne has been wearing natural makeup and lovely outfits to school ever since.

She then had conversations with Lance. They became closer over time, and their chats became more in-depth and profound. They discussed art, science, and life. After that, they texted each other every night after school. I felt as though I'd lost my best friend all of a sudden. She's made a new best friend.

Daphne and Lance were seen together all over the school. I noticed them in the corridors, canteen, locker hall, courtyard, and other areas. They looked adorable together, peering into each other's eyes, laughing and holding hands. I allowed her to have lovely moments with him. I wanted to make her happy all the time. Lance was her crush after all. Who wouldn’t be happy with their crush?

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad. No, that wasn’t true. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I felt depressed and heartbroken. But, to distract myself from her, I engaged in extracurricular activities such as athletics and painting. I hung out with my varsity and cheerleader friends (often referred to as the "popular crowd" by Daphne). So it was school, athletics, art, and clubbing for me every day. It seemed like a never-ending cycle. My life was full with friends, yet it was also empty. I missed Daphne so much.

I returned to Fluffy Purple, owned by the uncle of Christian’s friend. This is also the bar where I met Renee, a stunning exotic dancer. Renee was dirty and provocative in her dance. The customers were handing her money. Renee collected all of the money they offered her and stuffed part of it into her bra and short leather skirt because she didn't have any pockets and to lure the sex-hungry crowd. They applauded, whistled, wolf-whistled, and catcalled. They were all enjoying themselves while watching Renee. Renee was content to dance and take as much money as she could from these men. I also approached the crowd and handed her cash. She winked at me. It was a sign that she remembered me. I was glad that she remembered me.

I returned to Christian's table with his friend Abraham.

"It appears that you missed Renee," Christian said, "Is she the reason we came to the bar?"

I told Christian, "You may say that."

"Yes, Renee is a stunning young lady. Many men always look for her. The majority of customers prefer her over the other exotic dancers. I mean, look at that face!" Abraham exclaimed, "she's the best here! She should be on television! She actually auditioned for a number of female dancing groups, but no one has yet accepted her due to her age. I really wish she'd reach legal age as soon as possible. If only she could turn eighteen already. If only it was possible that she’d turn eighteen in just a snap of my fingers.”

Yeah, Abraham, I wish you would just shut up.

Christian muttered, "Or maybe you're here to forget about Daphne." God, I despised it when Christian read me.

Abraham chimed in, "You're seeking for a girl to forget about a girl."

"Please, let’s not talk about her," I said to the guys. "We're here to have a good time!" " I murmured, my voice trembling.

I sipped tequila while eating chicken fajitas. Christian was drinking absinthe and eating chocolate brownies while Abraham was drinking Jägermeister and eating glazed jerk chicken.

Renee approached our table. She greeted us all. "How are you doing, boys? Are you enjoying yourselves?" She asked. With easy yesses, Christian and I responded.

“Yeah! Back there, you were amazing!” Renee was complimented by Abraham.

"Thank you, Abe," she expressed her gratitude.

Abraham replied, "You're such a lovely girl."

Renee said, "It's lovely to see you again, handsome."

I replied, "Likewise, Renee. As always, you look stunning."

"Thank you for the tip," Renee kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear.

"No problem," I said with a smile.

Abraham remarked, "You seem really close."

Renee and I exchanged a smile. Renee received a sip from Abraham. It was a rum with peach taste and ice. Renee thanked Abraham.

"Cheers to this fantastic evening!" Renee informed us.

“Cheers!" As we clinked our glasses, the boys and I said to one another. We then drank our booze.

The hot, wonderful liquor made its way from my throat to my stomach. Then we all danced until morning to energetic dance tracks.

Christian, Abraham, and I all returned to our houses. Even though we had just had a great time in the bar, I was still melancholy. That could have been the case. The thrill was very fleeting. Even the things that make you upset will return to your mind once you've returned to normal. I wish I could quit being so depressed. Daphne was someone I couldn't forget. I loved her so much. I was unable to date other girls because I could not get over her.

In movies, good-looking people like myself are frequently easy to move on. That, however, was not the case. If you love someone deeply and they don't return your feelings, it might make you feel insecure, whether you're attractive or not.

It might make you doubt yourself. Why didn't she love me? What had I been missing? Was it because I wasn't attractive or interesting enough for her? What does that another guy possess that I lack? I'm always told that I'll find someone who loves me as much as she loves her. But I'm not ready to let go of her. Sure, Lance now possesses Daphne. But I'd be willing to wait a billion years for Daphne. I eagerly anticipate the day when they will no longer be in love. I'm hoping they split up soon.

I didn't care whether Lance was more attractive, taller, brilliant, athletic, personable, wealthy, or renowned than I was. Daphne and I are meant to be together. My thoughts were a jumble. I made Daphne happy the other day. I kept my word to her that I would do all in my power to make Lance notice her, and he did. And now they were close. Furthermore, they had started dating.

The next morning, I attended classes. Daphne and Lance were everywhere on campus. I felt jealous. Whenever I saw them holding each other’s hands, I imagined that I was the one holding her hard.

I once witnessed them passionately kissing on the lips in front of his flashy Tesla car. That guy was show-off. He was showing off his lovely girlfriend and stunning car to everyone who passed by.

I wish I was the one kissing her. I wish I were him.

You deserve someone better, Daphne. You should go with me! I'd be a much better boyfriend. I'd make a better lover. That jerk didn't really care for you. He only wanted to be with you because it was convenient for him. He was dating a lovely girl like you because he wanted to keep his popularity at school.

Everyone at school assumed Lance and Megan's relationship ended because they couldn't handle the challenges of a long-distance relationship, but this was far from the case! He ended his relationship with Megan because she gained weight. "I don't like the way Megan looks right now," I overheard him say to his basketball teammate Chaz, “She looks like a whale in that dress.” Chaz laughed at that. I felt sorry for Megan. Lance did not love her unconditionally. I hope Daphne won’t have the same experience.

"Do you still have feelings for that girl?" Luke, a classmate and friend, asked me.

"Which girl?" I asked.

Luke sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You and Daphne were obviously inseparable in the past. You're sitting alone on the bench now that she's with Lance. I'd label you a loser if I didn't know you."

"You mean, Luke, a "loner!" I had to correct him.

"It's the same banana," Luke explained, "the point is you used to be so full of life, and now you're always sad. Is it possible to turn your frown inside out?”

I faked a grin. He shook his head. "You have the appearance of a child who does not know how to smile properly for photographs."

"You can't make me happy if I'm not happy," I told him honestly.

"She's not even that attractive!" exclaimed Luke. I locked my gaze on him. That sentence made me want to punch him. However, I kept my cool.

"Woah, easy!" Luke moved his hands in an attempt to calm me down. "What I mean is, Daphne is undoubtedly lovely, but she lacks confidence," he continued. “She's also the type of girl who would wait for a guy to make the first move."

"It's because she's not a flirt," I explained.

"Yeah, that's it," Luke said, "she reminds me of a nun."

"What's the matter with that? That's what girls are meant to do, right?" I asked.

"You're so traditional," Luke sneered. “Now I see why you adore Daphne." Luke had given up on me.

He sipped a soft drink from a plastic bag. "I just hope you'll move on quickly," he said. “Daphne appeared to be far too smitten with Lance. They've been doing a lot of PDA (public display of affection) in the entire school. I don't want you to appear unhappy anytime you see them.” He advised me to "return to the old Alex." Return to your former self. That made me ponder what it meant. I simply felt like I was being myself. Maybe other people thought differently of me.

I was accustomed to being pursued by girls. I was notorious for ditching girls I didn't want. I had entertained a large number of girls. I dated a lot of girls. I've never been in a committed relationship. The majority of the girls I had were merely flings with whom I chose to have a fling with. In the past, I was hesitant to commit to anyone. Those girls never made me fall in love. They were clingy and desperate.

There was this girl named Maria. She wasn't particularly attractive, but she was a good kisser. We had numerous encounters in my home, her home, and my car. We didn't have sex because I was young and didn't want her to get pregnant. That's all we did: kissing, petting, and necking. I was embarrassed to be seen with her, so I never showed her to anyone.

"What are we doing?" she said while we were making out on my couch. “Are we a couple?”

"No," I told her.

"So you're not interested in having a relationship with me?" When she asked me this, her voice was trembling. I was unable to tell her the truth. I didn't want her to be my girlfriend since she was plain and I didn't want to destroy my reputation by being with her. She was also far too attached. Even though we were only having fun, she pretended we were in a relationship.

"I am not ready for a relationship," I said to her.

She got what I was saying. She cried as she stepped out the door and shut it. Since then, I have not heard from her. But I couldn't say I blamed her. I was so heartless.

Daphne did not want me to be her boyfriend. I realized how it felt to be rejected. Perhaps the universe was punishing me in this way.

I entered the classroom and concentrated on all of the subjects' lessons, temporarily forgetting about Daphne. I was delighted because Lance was not my classmate. Seeing them together made me extremely sad. When we were in the classroom, Daphne was completely "mine," and I smiled at her. She returned my smile. I have to say, I was happy and filled with romantic anticipation when she returned my smile.

Mr. Randall, our English teacher, was teaching us several types of poetry. Haiku, free verse, sonnet, acrostic, villanelle, limerick, ode, elegy, and ballad are among the many types of poetry. Each type of poetry was defined by him. Of course, I would not discuss the definitions of each of these types of poetry with you because that might bore you. You'll also study about it in school. Anyway, our teacher instructed us to write a haiku after discussing the many styles of poetry.

Haiku is a type of poetry that began in Japan and has spread around the world. It consists of three lines. Five syllables make up the first and third lines, while seven syllables make up the second. It could be on any subject.

Mr. Randall, our short and dark-skinned teacher, stated, "Just remember these crucial numbers, class, so you don't get confused: ‘five-seven-five.’ I anticipate you to write a haiku on nature. Because it was only a short one, I'll allow you at least thirty minutes to create your own haiku poem."

So, the teacher instructed us to create any haiku related to nature. I wrote my poem.

My poetry was as follows:

Blackbirds

The birds are singing

A song of melancholy

Hope doesn’t exist

"Mr. Pierce," the teacher stated after reading my poetry in front of the class. "I ordered you to compose a poem about nature, not about heartbreak or depression.”

I understand Mr. Randall's point of view. But, didn't it count as a poetry about nature because I used the word “birds”? Maybe I was depressed too much. Or maybe the teacher was expecting something like Dan Fogelberg, the singer and composer of the song “Longer” would write.

This was, after all, English. If you've been speaking this language since you were a toddler, it was a rather simple subject. I can't think of anyone who would fail this class. I received an eight out of ten. That was fine by me.

"Class, for your assignment, you will write a reaction paper about one poem by either Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, or Pablo Neruda," Mr. Randall said. “Try to comprehend each line of their poem and write your reaction. Alex, you have a broken heart. I'm guessing you'd appreciate a poem penned by Sylvia Plath."

Daphne gave me a worried glance. She might have been curious as to who had broken my heart. If she ever asked me that question, I would try to come up with a response. I couldn't say she was the one who broke my heart since that would make me appear pitiful.

When the class period was over, Daphne talked to me. "Hello, Alex," she said.

"Hello, Daphne," I returned the greeting.

"How are you doing?" she asked. She was concerned.

"I’m good," I replied.

"Have you been dating anybody? Are you heartbroken?” She bombarded me with these questions.

"I don't want to talk about it,” I replied curtly.

She sat back down and left me alone. Because I responded her rudely, I got the impression she was sad. But how could I respond to her question? I just couldn’t tell her, "It's you, Daphne! It was you who crushed my heart! You fucking robot!”

Even though those were the words that come to mind when I think about it. Daphne was already taken. It was pointless to tell her my genuine feelings. I was looking forward to our final subject, Art. This was one of my favorite subjects.

"Good afternoon, class!" Our lovely instructor, Miss Adelstein, greeted us. She was dressed modestly in a pastel pink dress with simple heels to match. Her hair was straight, medium-sized, black, and shining, and she was thin, of medium height, fair-skinned, and had expressive dark brown eyes with long lashes. She placed her black bag on the table.

We greeted her with, "Good afternoon, Miss Adelstein."

She asked if we had brought our glasses, acrylic paints, brushes, toothpicks, and quick-dry varnishes.

"Yes!" we all said at once.

"I presume you each have a glass, right? Okay. I'd like you to all paint something on the glass. Because painting on glass is difficult, it doesn't have to be too detailed. Don't worry if your painting seems basic; you can add tiny dots with a toothpick after you paint," the teacher said. As a result, you should paint quickly. After your paint, let it dry for ten minutes. After that, apply the quick dry varnish to the paint and wait thirty minutes for it to dry. Remember to use only thin coats! Let's get painting!”

On the glass, I painted a skull with roses for eyes and strategically placed some little white dots around it. I waited five minutes for it to dry. Then I painted the paint with thin layers of quick dry varnish and let it dry for thirty minutes.

Daphne's artwork caught my eye. Her glass was decorated with cherry blossoms, stems, and leaves. She painted admirably.

My teacher gave me a ninety percent. She graded Daphne a ninety-five percent.

The bell rang. The students were dismissed from class. We brought our works of art with us.

Daphne was picked up by Lance. Lance had stepped out of the classroom. They exchanged kisses. I averted my gaze.

"Alex, hello!" Lance gave me a high five and said hello.

"Hey, Lance," I responded with a similar greeting.

He said, "Let's hang out at your house. Just the two of us, all right?" He continued.

I started to feel anxious. What was Lance planning to do? "Sure," I replied, my voice assured.

Daphne questioned Lance, "Why just the two of you?"

Lance asked Daphne, "Aren't you going to finish reading the War and Peace book because you'll be returning it to the library tomorrow?"

Daphne nodded, "Yeah, you're right. Have a good time, boys!" she exclaimed.

Lance said, "See you later, Alex!"

Daphne was driven to her home by Lance. I arrived at my residence in my car.

Lance and I were at my residence. He praised, "Your house looks great."

"What do you want?" I asked him. I may have sounded rude when I said that so I added, “coffee or tea?”

He ignored my question and instead asked me, "What's your favorite sport, Alex?" Lance asked, smirking.

"Swimming," I said quickly.

"I'm assuming you have access to a swimming pool? This mansion, after all, is magnificent." He declared.

I said, "Yes, we have that."

"All right, let's race in the pool," he proposed.

We walked into the room that housed my swimming pool. Lance received a towel and some additional clothing from me.

"All I need is a towel, dude. After we swim, I'd still wear my own clothing." He told me.

"Ah okay," I said.

He smiled smugly at me.

My maid filled two glasses with four seasons juice and topped them with small umbrellas.

"Let's start!" Lance exclaimed, as if it were a battle cry.

We went swimming. I tried everything I could to go ahead of Lance. I went as fast as I could. But Lance beat me.

We went up to the swimming pool and used the towels to dry our bodies. We drank our glasses of juice.

Lance had changed into his own clothing. After the race, he didn't even bother to shower.

Lance smirked and began talking while we were sipping our juice cups. "How’s that, Alex?" He said, “I'm more attractive, athletic, faster, more well-known at school than you. When it comes to basketball, I'm better than you. I'm also a better swimmer than you. So in many ways, I'm far superior than you."

I simply nodded. I attempted to keep my rage in check. However, I began to shake while holding my glass of juice. I gulped down my juice.

"Now we know why Daphne picked me over you," he said, cruelly and arrogantly. He became instantly wicked. He was so cocky that he irritated me.

I tossed my glass at him, but he managed to avoid it. He was not hurt. That son of a bitch!

I yelled, "Get out of my house! Never come back here again! Is this how you'll repay me after I provide you hospitality? I don't want to see or speak with you; you're the one who insisted on our meeting. I don't care if you're Daphne's boyfriend; I won't speak to you or even be in the same room with you! You motherfucker, go lost!”

Lance walked out of my house, laughing evilly.