Page 16 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

We began walking again, and I snuck a glimpse at Taylor. She fidgeted with the mullein leaves in her hands, and lost in deep thought. Her head kept turning as she took in the scenery around us, and the way the sun filtered onto her face reminded me of an angel. Aside from her natural glow, the sun added a whole new depth to her beauty.

“So, what did he ask you?”

“Pretty much the same thing,” I replied. “I told him the time away from you made me realize how much I wanted to be with you.”

She sighed but didn’t elaborate, so I pressed her.

“Was that wrong to say?”

“No,” she shrugged. “I guess not.”

Wanting to know more, I continued.

“So, the other day, when you said you’ve had a crush on me for a long time, was that true?”

I held my breath as I waited for Taylor to answer.

“What was I supposed to say?” She shook her head. “You kind of put me on the spot. I just blurted out whatever I had to make it sound believable.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, and we continued walking.

I had my answer. Taylor was just playing the part. She didn’t have a crush on me, nor did she seem happy about the situation. I had planned out this talk all night, and somewhere down the way, I had planned on how I would tell her the truth about my feelings for her, and how I shared the sentiments for years just as she had claimed.

Now, I decided not to say a word. How would I pledge my love for Taylor when she didn’t feel the same?

“You know how Hunter can be,” she sighed.

“How’s that?” I frowned.

“So strict, and by the book,” she replied.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” I nodded when I thought about how Hunter had always had such conservative viewpoints.

When we were in high school, and even into our first year of college when we went to the same university, Hunter was always the gentleman when he was dating a girl. Holding hands was the limit of public displays of affection that I could remember. I hadn’t seen him kiss a girl in the hallway, or between classes all through high school.

Once, when we were sophomores in high school, and Hunter was dating Jenna Barbour, everyone thought they were sleeping together, but I knew otherwise. When Hunter began dating Jenna, he told me he had vowed to remain celibate, and at first, I thought he was joking.

But he wasn’t.

Over the summer between our freshman and sophomore years, Hunter began to attend church seriously, became involved with the youth group, and talked about attending a religious school that curtailed its curriculum with the Bible.

I was astounded, as I didn’t know what had caused such a change in him. We were always the two kids causing trouble around town, riding our bikes and creating bedlam wherever we went.

But hearing Hunter talk about being virtuous, and not having sex with whatever girl he was dating that month, left me speechless. It wasn’t until a summer before that we talked about how this girl, or that girl, had developed and changed and how we wanted to date one of them.

As young teen boys tend to do, we discussed who we’d kiss if we had the chance, and who we wanted to make out with after the Friday night football games that coming fall.

Then, one day, Hunter did a one-eighty. He no longer wanted to talk about who he wanted to date or how he tried toget to third base with that girlthe following weekend. On the other hand, I was stuck in the cycle of dating, kissing, and making out with whatever girl I was with that weekend.

Being the star pitcher, as a sophomore, for the varsity baseball team allowed me to date more selectively, and I had junior and senior girls hanging out at my locker between classes.

The only downside of my situation at the time was that I wasn’t old enough to have a driver’s license or vehicle to go out on dates. But most of the girls I dated through my sophomoreyear didn’t care about that. They would drive on our dates, and I would benefit from their make-out experience.

Hunter chided me every weekend for being such aplayboy, and for having respect, if not for myself, then for the girls I was dating. I blew off his scolding and continued on my way of being Casanova. I figured Hunter could do his thing, and I’d continue to do mine.

“Van? Hello? Are you there?”

“Huh? What?”

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