My name’s Willy –at least that’s what Denny calls me. My full name is actually William Ross Fitchens. I call her Denny coz I guess.. I do. (I think it’s maybe because I feel like we fit together; kind of matchy, y’know? ..That probably sounds really lame –don’t tell her.) It’s actually Dakota with a capital ‘D’ for Dumb. I should really call her Dumb instead. I mean, it makes her face contort into this weird half smile half.. frown really. It’s kind of cute. I guess she can’t decide whether she’s offended or just cutting me some slack for having to deal with her lack of wits. I mean really. But what can I do when I can’t hold her eyes for any longer than a second anymore. Gosh and what an airhead. I told her before, you know, that I liked her. You know what she said? “Willy, you know you’re kinda slow at these things. I like you too!” And with that blinding bright smile of hers that got three guys to ask her to prom last year, she just laughs as if I’m the one who’s just starting to understand the basics of human interaction and stuff. I mean for god’s sake, I could hardly look at her when telling her I liked her. She ended up going out with the one guy with the Elvis hair. They didn’t date for long though.. probably because he was so out-of-date. I guess that tops the list of why she doesn’t have her eye on good looking me. I think my humor died with my soprano voice back when puberty decided it would waltz into my life. But hey, she’s missing out really. Sure I drive a rundown Honda Civic from like 10,000 BC; but I mean I ain’t too shabby with the other girls. They tend to admire my gray eyes from afar until eye contact happens and it’s like the zombies suddenly rain down and they quickly dart away. Something like that..
Well. Denny. Just so you know, I like you. I mean like you. I like the way you pretend to get upset when I tell you that you must’ve been dropped as a baby. Or the way you violently pluck the petals off every flower in sight. And perhaps even the way you play with the ends of your hair when you’re tired of listening to Dr. Marla ramble on about how physics is what keeps our “ungrateful teenage butts” down on these chairs. I could go on but I guess I’m too lazy to think right now.
You’re just.. Dakota. Girls are so complicated. If only you get it.
I love you.