This is a small part of my recent autobiographical paper I wrote on the day I first realized I truly loved my fellow drum majors. I wish I could've finished this earlier for a number of reasons and that I could've posted the whole thing (it's seven pages long) so that I could get some feedback before turning in it in less than nine hours. Oh well, I hope you like it. I certainly kind of enjoyed writing it. I was going to write a real post, but screw it. Posting my homework is close enough.
***
Cameron was the closest to me, proximity wise. I barely knew him. We spent little time with each other exclusively or talked about anything extraneous, save two days before at our drum major camp when he disclosed particles of his love life to me. I had worked tirelessly to befriend him, tried desperately to be smooth and cool and interesting. Despite the fact that I had offered up my shoulder as a pillow to him, I hardly felt at place with him. He accepted, his eyes blearily grateful, and I pretended to be a normal girl with her normal guy friend falling asleep on her. A few minutes later and I was reluctantly placing my cheek on the top of his head, irrationally fearing he might have a double standard of personal space.
Almost immediately, I received a text from Caitlin, who was sitting far behind us, clinging to an electrical outlet she had snagged to charge her iPod. My phone read "you guys look so cute! :)," and I couldn't keep a slight grin from peeking out. After all, he was pretty attractive, and such a gesture was a monumental event in our newly formed platonic relationship, and . . . he was pretty attractive.
In an attempt to distract myself, I looked up at Logan and had to agree with the girls at camp. I remembered their bright eyes and love drunk voices telling Caitlin and I that we had a fine looking pair of drum majors; you could practically hear their hearts fluttering. I shut my eyes tightly as I processed what their words meant. Fearing I was blushing, I carefully reopened them to see that he was not even looking in my direction. He was slumped up against the hard back of his seat, entranced in what was probably our show music. The intense look of concentration on his face meant he was probably trying to memorize it a month in advance.
Logan was the serious one, I knew that. We'd spent more time together than his darker haired counterpart and, as a result, quickly learned that we did not have the same tolerance for awkward situations. Our conversations would roll smoothly along until some socially unacceptable line would slide past my lips and he'd pull his head slightly back, the faintest of grimaces crossing his face. It was like he was a turtle and an unintentional double chin his shell.
I retreated back into the world of my non-smart phone until a kind lady came over the speaker to announce that the 5:30 PM flight was now boarding. I nudged Cameron awake, and we all made our way to the gate. Logan and Cameron faced Caitlin and I, heavy bags in their hands and under their eyes, and waited a few eternal seconds before hugging us. It was nice, but short and laden with obligation, indicative of our friendship thus far. We stepped back and watched the boys, "our" boys, make their way up the line and out the doors. After delaying our flight for twelve hours, the airline spitefully split us up, separating us by gender and sentencing us to different planes at different times in different places. Caitlin and I stood together, keeping our eyes on the spot where we had last seen the boys until we almost apathetically accepted the fact that we were alone.
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