8Dedicated to a friend
I've got a lot to say to you.
Yeah, I've got a lot to say to you.
I notice that your eyes are always glued to me
Keeping them here
And it makes no sense at all
Crushcrushcrush, Paramore
He was just one of those exchange students.
An extremely hot, French exchange student.
And just about everybody had crushes on him, ranging from miniscule to large, including me.
She was just another one of those intelligent girls.
An extremely funny and beautiful Canadian girl.
And one of my best friends.
No, this isn't a story about my raging jealousy and anger issues. Hell, it's far from it.
This will never be my story, you see. This is all her, Sophie.
This is her story.
Luc Gabriel.
I wonder sometimes what life would have been like if you had never made the decision to study here, in America.
No one really knew anything about you except for the guy you were staying with, of course. You were a mystery to all of us, and we all wanted to know more.
I had heard snippets of conversations, of some 'hot guy' and 'French' but it befuddled me. I couldn't connect two and two and make four, has easy as it may have sounded. I wasn't sure what everyone was talking about.
Well, not until I saw you.
You were just going to class (French) like everyone else. Sure, you were a tad bit confused, but that made sense. It had been the first day of school after all. You though, unlike everyone else, weren't expecting anything more major to happen in your life other than this. Coming to America, after all, is everyone's aspiration, no? I sure as hell hope not.
But something else drastic did happen in your life; I entered.
Everyone immediately noticed you, of course. You were, are gorgeous and European. A classic combination that everyone, including me, adored. I'd like to say that when you walked into the room, your eyes had landed on me, and never had left mine. But that'd be a lie, if I ever told one.
You walked into our French class and everybody, I swear to God; everybody turned their heads in your arrival.
Many pairs of greedy eyes took you in, and an emotion not unknown to me took me in. Jealousy. And then, immediately, confusion. Why was I feeling jealousy, of all the emotions out there? I didn't even know you. Wouldn't that of made a difference?
It did not escaped my notice, despite your rebuttals, that you had ever so discreetly glanced at me.
For long amounts of time.
I hotly denied it at first, when Evie had confronted me about it, but slowly succumbed. After all, denial is a river in Egypt. Thoughtful, I asked her, "Do you think he likes me?"
She couldn't give me an answer to that.
And I was glad, in an odd way. I don't think I would have been able to take "no" for an answer.
A crush is like a flower. Each leaf describing the path it took you to get there. Each petal describing a different kind of relationship. And then you reach the core, love.
It's what all crushes aspire to get to; their goal in life
The first time we talked will forever be embedded into my memory.
A connection, a so-called invisible line that once had fleeted across my mind now had become true. You were friends with my cousin, the one who lived in Rennes. Near to you.
The awkwardness of that conversation still doesn't escape me. I dissected it, making sure I didn't say anything ditzy, stupid. But, still, you even knew that there was something between us. Something I couldn't put a name to, and you couldn't either.
Inevitably, it was going to happen. It had already happened.
Crushes sucked. Even more so when you weren't friends with the person. Like me and you. I hated not knowing whether or not the feelings were simply mutual, or platonic. In your case, at the least.
I won't deny it. I looked through your Facebook defaults and the photos you and your friends added of you. I went onto your profile and had prowled through. Realizing that we had more in common that one would have thought.
I remember the first time I had conversed with you, on Facebook.
I wanted a reason to talk to you. I used French as my excuse.
The first time I talked to you online, I was lying.
I asked you if we had any French homework (we didn't). You replied with an "I don't know."
We talked a bit more, about Thanksgiving and how the holidays had went.
I don't know when we passed that line of acquaintances and meandered through the world of friendship.
Suddenly, I couldn't picture you not in my life.
Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you, I had no control over. –Unknown
I fell for you, hard.
I fell in love with your voice, your looks, your thought process, your eyes, your everything.
I, unknowingly, dug myself a hole so deep, that I wouldn't have been able to get out on my own.
It was dark, in that hole. And you were the light that gleamed through.
I couldn't tell you the truth, I couldn't. Why ruin everything now? When everything was perfect, in it's own way?
You were so oblivious, you still are.
My friends advised me to make you "jealous", something stupid like that.
But what was the point?
I melted inside every time you talked to me. Did you know that?
I don't even know why.
I wondered about that a lot then.
Like, why did I fall for you? And why I couldn't get over it.
The answer was killing me.
Cliché has it sounds; we had Chemistry together, literally and metaphorically. You and I were lab partners for that one lab, remember?
I don't know why the name evades me.
It was after that lab that you did the unthinkable.
You asked me out.
Luc Gabriel asked me, Sophie, out.
On a date.
I remember us joking around a lot that date.
Our first date.
It was so unlike the stereotypical ones, where the first dates usually meant so much.
This one was carefree and light hearted.
It had been like friends going out to go see a movie.
I was elated; there was no pressure or stress.
I want to thank you for that.
I wonder if you knew that you were basically my first everything; my first boyfriend, my first date for a dance, my first kiss.
The chemistry that we had was still there. But now, we had both already begun to acknowledge it.
You, I assumed then, said jokingly, "We're like magnets, Sophie. You can't stop the pull."
You pulled me towards you when you said that; your arms were around me.
I was absolutely delighted to have heard you say that, and didn't mention the fact that I wouldn't even think of stopping it.
I looked up, into your eyes, expecting to see some form of humor in them.
Your eyes were completely and undeniably serious.
My heart had sped up, faster and faster.
What? I wasn't able to talk.
My brain had been clouded.
I breathed in, and out. Relax; I had thought to myself, you've never been good at reading people. This means nothing.
You kissed me, then.
My first kiss.
That was when I was positive that I was in love.
And that you were too.
It was a mutual feeling, like an agreement that we had both signed.
There was no warranty; all was based upon spontaneity and our emotions.
Everyone was staring at us. It was unsettling.
But, when you were beside me, all those feelings evaporated. Erased.
It was like I was supposed to be by your side, and you by mine at all times.
I felt whole, complete, with you beside me.
I'm sure we made a well-paired couple.
You, I can't even start with you. Black curly hair, with dark eyes. Tall with that wonderful European sense of fashion which had seemed to be lost on the boys here
Me, my long wavy brown hair. Just a couple of inches shorter than you. I didn't have that European sense of fashion, like you, but I wished I did.
We had matched, in this odd sense.
We looked good together.
More and more rumors had spread about me, remember?
More than before, when they had been non-existent.
And it was all because of you, us.
But you put a stop to it, instantly. After I cried many tears over it.
I loved you for that.
Everything was a blur.
The year was over like that.
And you had to leave, back to your family and those lovely French girls.
Then you said it. I could see you holding back tears. Your voice cracked. "Wait for me, Sophie. This isn't the end. Not yet. I'll come back."
And I promised you I would, choking back tears.
We kept in touch, at first.
Refusing to let go.
And then it was you who let go.
I hated it when you had stopped replying to my emails.
Stopped calling me, or calling me back.
I began to hate you. Though most of the hate was directed at me, and my stupidity.
I felt as if you had found someone better.
You just tossed me out, like some old pair of ratty socks.
And like that pair of socks, I had holes in me.
I was incomplete.
Why would you do that?
I called you, remember? I yelled at you, asking if you were already tired of me. If you had found someone else, and if you were happy with her. I asked you why you hadn't told me.
You told me to shut up.
I had hung up on you.
I ignored your calls.
I missed you.
Where were you?
When everything was falling apart
All my days spent by the telephone
And all I needed was a call
You Found Me-The Fray
You emailed me.
It was two years after you left.
Two whole years of no emailing, chatting, talking.
Of no communication, at all.
Telling me you were coming back.
Tears were flowing down my cheeks.
Happiness.
Anger.
You asked if I'd be there to receive you.
And against my better judgment, I said yes.
You had replied rather quickly it seemed.
"Thank you."
All alone in my room, think of you
At a rate that is truly alarming
Looping my memories of you in my head
I pretend that you want me
Can't Stop- Maroon 5
I had looked forward to seeing you again, no matter the circumstances.
I was still confused on why you asked me to receive you, of all people you knew here.
Me?
You came out of the gate; Luc Gabriel had arrived.
You had looked around, and then saw me. You had had the biggest grin on your face, your eyes had been twinkling, and it felt like this was the first time you had smiled so genuinely in a long time.
I ran towards you; excited.
You looked at me, "I half-expected you to end up not coming."
"You wish."
I sounded like I still loved you.
But I do.
"I didn't mean it," you spoke so quietly I had barely heard you.
"What?"
"I didn't mean to stop calling you, emailing you. It just happened. I didn't want it to."
I had snorted. "Right."
You stared at me. "You don't believe me?" You sounded hurt, actually hurt.
"Why should I? For all I could have known, you were probably off with some French lady."
"Sophie," you said, purposely using my dreaded middle name, "I love you. And only
you. Nothing would, could ever change that."
You sounded so firm, definite.
Absolute.
I'm glad you were the one who helped me out of that hole.
You are the one, the one that lies close to me
Whispers, "Hello, I miss you quite terribly"
I fell in love, in love with you suddenly
Now there's no place I could be but here in your arms
Here (In Your Arms)- Hellogoodbye
Author's Note:
This story, "A French Connection" is dedicated to a good friend of mine and the guy she likes. Like most of my stories, there are several parts in this that are based on true facts.
This story is also the first one that I wrote in this formatting. I've never really incorporated song lyrics and quotes into a story, and especially not like this. Personally speaking, I think I did a fair job with it.
I've edited it to the best of my abilities. And I do know that there may have been some tense problems throughout it, I had difficulty with it.
I'm really proud of this, and am not sure why. I think it's because on "the Artists" and "Crushing", I wrote it on a whim. As some people may have noticed, there are many errors in it due to the lack of editing I provided it.
Another reason is because I passed the 2,000 word mark and am truly proud of that achievement!
I really hope that you guys like this, and would love it if you care to review.
Disclaimer: I don't own Facebook, Hellogoodbye, Maroon 5, Paramore, The Fray, or anything else in there that one can obviously see is not owned by me.
Thank you guys so much for reading, and I really hope you like.
Please review, if you read.
kthnxbai,
Martin the Waterskier.