Angela Christine Weber.
Her name was so beautiful, so suitable for her utter perfection, and the only thing that could make it even more perfect in my eyes was if Weber became Cheney. Yeah, so I was obsessed. Sue me. How could you not be? She was so nice and easy to talk to (and easier to look at) and she took amazing photos and volunteered at animal shelters every weekend.
Girls with good hearts, I was a real sucker for those. I knew that if you wanted to settle down with someone, you should probably do it with someone who wouldn’t up and leave you halfway through building your life together. And usually, if a kind-hearted person is so considerate in every other aspect, they will be so in romance too.
Christ, but I promise I don’t like her just because she’s friendly to all she meets. She’s also super smart, always achieving top marks in science and music. She is the one you go to if you want homework answers, gum, or someone to just vent to. Hell, she even helped Lauren Mallory (not the nicest, that one) get over her breakup with Tyler. I’ve seen it often enough - and God knows, I’m not exactly her closest friend - who knows what goes on off-screen?
“Ben! Earth to Ben!”
I lift my head to see her. Angela. She’s so gorgeous, I can’t help but think. Because today she’s wearing a dress, which isn’t very often for her, and put on makeup. What for? It’s not like it’s a special day…but I can’t complain, not when I want to kiss the bright red lipstick off her mouth. My heart all but stops at that lovely imagery.
“Angela. Um this is awkward but I was wondering if I can ask you to the dance?” I stammer, face burning and eyes anywhere but near her. I want to hide. I want to turn and run because I can almost hear her soft rejection. She wouldn’t be rude, that’s what hurts. She’d be just as sweet as ever but now it’ll be awkward and -
“Oh, Ben, I thought you’d never ask.”