The door won’t open again.

My sweaty hands hit the wooden surface of my apartment’s entrance once more, it remained sturdy like newly poured cement. This made me even more furious, considering what took place tonight, and helped me garner up even more power to break through the barrier blocking me from the comforts of my ‘cubicle-like’ apartment.

Crack!

The door swung open with colossal momentum that it probably woke Mr. Ruben from next door. I scurried inside like a rat in the middle of the night. ‘I don’t need another lecture from that annoying old fart’, I whispered as I crashed myself into a cheap yet springy $50 couch. Usually, I would go and change out of the bulky winter gear I often use to protect my body from the harsh Chicago winter, but today I wanted to drown my soul in its moist, arctic fabric.

I am the youngest son in my family, and standing at a puny frame of 5’7” I was always the shortest in class. So everyone in their right minds would know that it would take a huge miracle for some skinny, freckled, ginger like me to get a date with Charlize Roberts, the best looking cheerleader the state has ever seen in the last 50 years. Her azurite eyes, gummy smile, curvy body and flowing blonde hair makes that jovial personality of her even more attractive. The class were on a round of truth-or-dare when Jackson, an overweight old foe of mine ordered me to ask Charlize out to the movies in front of the whole class. The entire student body of George Ranch High was ready to laugh at me, so naturally everyone, including myself, were shocked when she said yes.

Today was the day. Tonight was that night. I could still smell the buttery popcorn and taste the frizzly soda. I arrived a whole hour early to the ‘date’, probably so Jackson and my other friends wouldn’t get the pleasure of witnessing their loser buddy shiver and sweat like hell at the sight of the most beautiful thing in the country, but I did not expect them to be waiting for Charlize and I at the cinemas. God, how much I crave to wipe that smiley face of Jackson’s face. You should’ve seen it. It was the epitome of pure disgust. His oily face and crooked nose could make a priest vomit on a warm Sunday morning. Charlize showed up on time in an alluring white dress that made her seem more like an angel than a 16 year old teenage gal. She gave off a scent of roses and daisies and her eyes—oh her eyes—bore the gaze of Marilyn Monroe herself. Her presence gave my self-esteem a quick notch, but it also made my palms sweat like we were in the Sahara rather than a local movie theater.

We were lining up for concessions when it happened. Jacksons and his group of bullies were not visible, but I knew they were eyeing for any weird gestures I may’ve made that would be worth laughing about at school. I was so caught up in my own mind that I did not realize that Charlize too was showing hints of nervousness. She had her fair share of sweating and has so far displayed nothing more than a little grin. Moreover, why would she dress up so nicely for a ‘date’ with a nobody like me? Wait. Why did she even say yes? The question haunted my mind as I walked forward, my mind half-conscious when I crashed into a man in front me. His hands were gently balancing an XL coke and though I was just this little skinny boy who couldn’t even catch a fly, I managed to tip him out of balance and send his drink down Charlize’s immaculate dress. Boom. Game Over. I had one shot to know this girl, and I threw it down the drain. I would never see her again. How did I know that? Well, the screaming and tears in her eyes moments after her dress was stained with disgusting brown fluid followed by her running out of the cinema were enough evidence.

Kring!!

The sound of my phone signaling a new message startled me out of my slumber. Then, with my eyes still partially blinded from sleeping in this godforsaken cold, I tried to read the message as it slowly faded into vision. It read:
 

    Hey, my mom said the dress would be fine. Sorry for running       out like that. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Are you free           tomorrow?