Twice Shy

by Sarah Hogle

Slipping away into the dream version of my life is sometimes a conscious decision. But frequently, I don’t realize I’ve been daydreaming until a loud noise jars me, and when I check the clock, I’ll find I’ve lost an hour. A whole hour, just gone. The more anxious or stressed or lonely I am in reality, the less time I’m inclined to spend in it.

There’s a superstition about luck, and it goes like this: a run of bad luck is followed by a run of good luck. This is the silver lining, the softening edges.

It’s rough when you have a nature that begs you to avoid heartache at all costs but also makes you wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Their senior year he broke up with her and she mailed him a Sorry for your loss card.”

I’ve only ever wanted to be liked, and I’ve only ever wanted to be liked by absolutely everybody I come in contact with, however temporarily and inconsequentially. It’s my most dominant and simultaneously weakening driving force, which leads to my toning down various wants and needs in order to make myself digestible, easy to get along with. The essence of Maybell Parrish is painfully sensitive, and if you touched it, it would retract and try to surrender. For better or worse (and I’ve certainly tried to be anyone but myself), I am a wobbly white flag.

think.” I feel myself starting to glow with pride and take it down a notch. People call women who brag about their accomplishments unlikable.

I think he’s under a curse—if he laughs, he’ll die. This is a sensible explanation to me. It isn’t that I’m not a joy to be around, it’s that he’ll literally die.

I don’t like loaded silences. When someone is quiet I tend to assume they’re thinking unpleasant things about me, so I have to stem that flow by distracting them with conversation. Conversation proving I am an all-around great person and definite friendship material.

Everything I know about baseball can be traced back to that scene from Twilight.

He looks like he wants to backseat-paint so badly and can barely hold it in, pressing his knuckles to his lips, other hand cupping his elbow.

It’s so humanizing, to see this giant starchy potato get all pink and flustered simply because I’m bearing witness to his fluffy trees.

“I’m not that bad, you know,” I continue. “You are constantly turning your back on me, ignoring me when I’m around like I’m a punishment to talk to, and it makes me feel like shit. You make me feel even lonelier than I already was.”

NOT TO BE DRAMATIC, but I would rather drink battery acid than be in the throes of a crush.

I raise my eyebrows. “Meanwhile, here are these other ancient beings who just want privacy, and they’ve outsmarted us,” he goes on. “A giant middle finger to the assholes who’ve ruined their habitats.” He frowns, coming to a standstill. “I’m sorry for saying assholes.”

“I like that you wear it,” he tells me in a tone so soft and genuine that my chest cavity feels hollowed out. “For months, I wasn’t able to find it. Then one day, there’s that missing piece of my key chain around your neck.”

“Aren’t you weirded out?” I can’t help asking. “I mean, I thought I dated your picture.” “Weirded out?” He releases a long-suffering sigh. “How do I say this?” He tips his head back, searching the dark sky for answers. “How do I say this.” I slide him a questioning look. A hand hovering at the small of my back makes direct contact, urging me forward. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Absolutely nothing. I’m deeply, terribly flattered that you would have swiped right on me.” Turbulent eyes cut to mine, then into the grass. “Makes me wish I’d had a real Tinder profile that day.”

“You’re right. I see you.”

This is the trouble with crushes. You begin to doubt whether they’re reciprocated, even if on paper the signs are all there. If I ever get married, I think I’ll be wondering all the way down the aisle if the wedding’s an elaborate prank and the groom will say Gotcha! at the end. I can’t trust my own judgment here.

“I’m not that strong at all,” he replies modestly, head ducking, “but for you, I can be strong enough.”

I think that you walked into my life and absolutely ruined it with how beautiful you are. I haven’t gotten a single decent night’s rest since we met.”

And I refuse to do any more kissing, even though kissing you was the most magical, time-stopping phenomenon I’ve ever experienced and I will perish before I let another man’s lips near me.”

“When I’m around people I don’t know, I rarely smile,” Wesley confesses at length. “When you smile, people look at you more. I prefer to blend in. For nobody to notice me.”

It is a heady, gratifying thing, to watch this man unravel.

“Listen very closely: I’ve listened to everything you just said and I love you. Do you hear me? I’ve heard all of it, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to love you. You don’t have to hide anything from me, because I love all of it, every little bit. You have to let me love it all, okay? I love you. Say it.”