Before that moment, Gwen Nance hadn't caught my eye. Now that she had, she caught them both. It’s funny how you never seem to notice what’s right in front of you. The same routine every day dulls your observations. Then a switch, once flipped, creates a crush where, moments before, none existed. That’s the way it was with me and still is.

She and I were in the ‘L to N’ homeroom group. It made it easier for the school to keep track of attendance. For almost three years I didn’t pay much attention to Gwen. But after that year’s Christmas holiday, all that changed. I now watched her every move but pretended I wasn’t. Scoping her out from a distance was easy. My problem was how to approach her. A little voice kept saying, “She’s the one.” Another one reminded me, “She’s outta your league.” 

I am sure she never thought of me at all, but she was always on my mind. Another problem was her cadre of disapproving friends. Well, at least disapproving of me. You see, I didn’t fit into her crowd. I wasn’t a football star, a guy with a car or a dreamy Romeo. I was the grocer’s kid. There was nothing special about me. Given those obstacles, I had to work out that ever important first move. “What could it be? How do I pull it off?” I had a thousand ideas, none of them good ones.      

Gwen had an engaging smile, a breezy demeanor, was funny, had a million friends and was very popular. She shouldn’t have noticed I was alive. But, she was always nice to me, in a general, passing on the street, sense. When she walked down the hall on her way to class, her sashaying was mesmerizing. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, many did.

That spring was a busy one for me. College, out of town, started in the fall. Track season had begun and I was eager to begin the competition. I had been practicing all winter at the local YMCA. It was time for some races. Classes were easy, the pressure of school had let up. The only thing left was the prom. Time was getting short to lock down a date. I needed to make a move. In my mind, there was only one possible candidate, Gwen Nance.

Life is a series of choices; some you make for yourself, others you don’t. Regardless, the consequences fall on you every time. An off shoot of the “others you don’t” category, is to not to make a timely choice. It’s called hesitation and it plagued me every day in every way.

It was early April; one of those now or never moments. “Today I ask her.” The bell rang dismissing us from homeroom. Gwen was walking down the hallway, looking great as ever. I ran to catch up. I yelled out, “Gwen, do you have second?” Surprised, she stopped, turned, smiled and said, “Yeah.”

I couldn’t believe it, “My God, I got her attention.” I was all set to ask her if she wanted to go to the prom when I heard someone say, “Were you able to figure out that math homework?” Wait. What? Who was that? I recognized that voice. It sounded familiar. Those weren’t the words in my head. “Gwen, do you have a date for the prom? Would you like to go with me?” Those were the words. But they must have ended up in a neural dead letter office or something because I didn’t speak them. Instead, I hesitated.

Responding to my question, she said, “I got it done. Wanna see?”

Before I could answer, her friends descend upon us, gave me a dismissive look and started pulling her away. They were cackling about something. I couldn’t make it out. My focus was on Gwen. She titled her head, smiled and shrugged her shoulders as she disappeared into the crowd.

Then the late bell rang. It seemed like it rang for an hour. “Besides not asking her, I’m late for first period. Idiot, you missed your chance. I’ll ask her tomorrow.” I thought.  Later that day I heard Billy Westgate asked her to the prom. Hesitation got me, again.

Years later, during a reunion weekend, we were both in our hometown. Due to a late arrival, I missed an informal get together of old friends. So, I put a message out on Facebook that I was heading to a well-known local pub. Later, much to my surprise, Gwen arrived with some of my old friends. When I saw her, I must have looked like had I won a million dollars. Seeing her again brought back every memory. She was walking my way. My heart was pounding.

“Jimmy McNamara. I saw your message. I had to come. Look at you. You haven't changed at all." She said. I thought, “Yes, I have.” but sometimes you smile and accept the compliment.

We stood on the street and had a warm conversation consisting of small talk. Then, the time came for us to part. Ready to say goodbye, I said "It is so good to see you". What I wanted to say was, "I had a big crush on you in high school". Par for the course, the words stuck in my head. Again, I hesitated.

As she turned and walked up the stairs into the crowded barroom, I swore I heard the late bell ringing.

Edward N. McConnell writes flash fiction and short stories. To date his work has appeared in Literally Stories, Terror House Magazine, Mad Swirl, Down in the Dirt, Rural Fiction Magazine, The Corner Bar Magazine, MasticadoresIndia, Drunk Monkeys, The Milk House and Refuge Online Literary Journal. His story Where Harry’s Buried was selected for inclusion in The Best of Mad Swirl v2021. He lives in West Des Moines, Iowa with his wife.