the new kid. The girls, me included, were instantly attracted to this fresh-faced, muscular man, who seemed so much more mature and capable than the other boys. It was in the way he carried himself, a swagger that was just the right amount of confidence, without seeming arrogant. The guys, on the other hand, especially the jocks, eyed him warily. I think they knew, just as we girls did, that there was a new top dog on campus.
What amazed me was that, within a couple of weeks, Chris had managed to charm them all. Affable, friendly and with a surplus of smarts when it came to interacting with people, he was almost universally liked.
As I was far from universally liked, it was something that I both envied and admired. My biggest problems, it seemed to me, were that not only was I painfully shy, I was also from a lower income family from the “wrong side of the tracks.” Girls like me didn’t date the white jocks or for that matter ever fall in with the popular girl cliques either.
The ‘it’ girls at school were the cheerleaders, most of whom I found empty-headed. My few feeble attempts to fit in were perhaps, therefore, always doomed to fail. Besides, I told myself, I didn’t want to spend my evenings waving pom-poms around.
Eventually, I gave up the ridiculous idea to become friends with the popular crowd and accepted my fate as the quiet girl with glasses. I didn’t consider myself a nerd, but I was studious where most of my subjects were concerned. And, with the exception of math, I was a straight-A student. None of that really bothered me, until Chris came along.
I would have given anything for him to notice me. But, of course, he didn’t notice me. Why would he, when he could have anybody?
He noticed plenty of other girls, though: The cheerleaders, the track, volleyball and gymnastics teams. He gradually managed to work his way through most of the girls in the school. But that didn’t seem to affect Chris’s popularity. The girls hated each other, but they never turned on him.
And I had to admit, he was honest about it. He made no secret of the fact he liked to surf the dating pool. As far as I’m aware, he never promised exclusivity to any one of them. So, secretly I kept hoping that one day it would be my turn. But in truth, I didn’t need to be taken out to dinner, or a movie. I would have been satisfied with just a word or two from him. All I ever got, however, was that one smile on the very first day I saw him.
Chapter Three
As far as I can tell, things haven’t changed. Chris has an arm wrapped around a young woman’s waist; I’m not sure whether she’s here with the press or with Panther Sports, but whoever she is, she’s gladly being tugged to his side. The pair pose for another wave of camera flashes.
Gradually, he begins to step down from the small platform, into a circle made for him by a huddle of reporters. I should be over there, I know that. If I don’t get some quotes or some semblance of an article, I won’t have a job in the morning.
Reluctantly, I begin to move, my feet dragging unwillingly, as I become aware that my third glass of champagne has made the edges of the world a little fuzzy.
Staying somewhere near the back of the crowd, I listen to the fatuous questions being asked.
“So, Chris how are things in Atlanta?”
“Have you got a girlfriend, Chris?”
“Are those sneakers comfortable?”
Chris made no attempt to answer any of them. Instead, he smiled genially and waited for the journalists’ excitement to fade.
Sure enough, the hubbub slowly died, and a relative quiet fell over them. One eager young woman, who looked as though she were still an undergrad, held her hand up patiently.
“Yes?” Chris’s deep voice encouraged, as his eyes found her.
“Mr. Hays, could you tell us if the rumors of you and the Hollywood actress are true?”
Chris’s grin grew wider, his perfect, dazzling teeth on display as he audibly chuckled. “Well, that’s not the
What amazed me was that, within a couple of weeks, Chris had managed to charm them all. Affable, friendly and with a surplus of smarts when it came to interacting with people, he was almost universally liked.
As I was far from universally liked, it was something that I both envied and admired. My biggest problems, it seemed to me, were that not only was I painfully shy, I was also from a lower income family from the “wrong side of the tracks.” Girls like me didn’t date the white jocks or for that matter ever fall in with the popular girl cliques either.
The ‘it’ girls at school were the cheerleaders, most of whom I found empty-headed. My few feeble attempts to fit in were perhaps, therefore, always doomed to fail. Besides, I told myself, I didn’t want to spend my evenings waving pom-poms around.
Eventually, I gave up the ridiculous idea to become friends with the popular crowd and accepted my fate as the quiet girl with glasses. I didn’t consider myself a nerd, but I was studious where most of my subjects were concerned. And, with the exception of math, I was a straight-A student. None of that really bothered me, until Chris came along.
I would have given anything for him to notice me. But, of course, he didn’t notice me. Why would he, when he could have anybody?
He noticed plenty of other girls, though: The cheerleaders, the track, volleyball and gymnastics teams. He gradually managed to work his way through most of the girls in the school. But that didn’t seem to affect Chris’s popularity. The girls hated each other, but they never turned on him.
And I had to admit, he was honest about it. He made no secret of the fact he liked to surf the dating pool. As far as I’m aware, he never promised exclusivity to any one of them. So, secretly I kept hoping that one day it would be my turn. But in truth, I didn’t need to be taken out to dinner, or a movie. I would have been satisfied with just a word or two from him. All I ever got, however, was that one smile on the very first day I saw him.
Chapter Three
As far as I can tell, things haven’t changed. Chris has an arm wrapped around a young woman’s waist; I’m not sure whether she’s here with the press or with Panther Sports, but whoever she is, she’s gladly being tugged to his side. The pair pose for another wave of camera flashes.
Gradually, he begins to step down from the small platform, into a circle made for him by a huddle of reporters. I should be over there, I know that. If I don’t get some quotes or some semblance of an article, I won’t have a job in the morning.
Reluctantly, I begin to move, my feet dragging unwillingly, as I become aware that my third glass of champagne has made the edges of the world a little fuzzy.
Staying somewhere near the back of the crowd, I listen to the fatuous questions being asked.
“So, Chris how are things in Atlanta?”
“Have you got a girlfriend, Chris?”
“Are those sneakers comfortable?”
Chris made no attempt to answer any of them. Instead, he smiled genially and waited for the journalists’ excitement to fade.
Sure enough, the hubbub slowly died, and a relative quiet fell over them. One eager young woman, who looked as though she were still an undergrad, held her hand up patiently.
“Yes?” Chris’s deep voice encouraged, as his eyes found her.
“Mr. Hays, could you tell us if the rumors of you and the Hollywood actress are true?”
Chris’s grin grew wider, his perfect, dazzling teeth on display as he audibly chuckled. “Well, that’s not the
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