Ch. 03: Not That Guy

"We are, we are. Casey's just nuts about it," Vickie said.

Casey choked with laughter. "Don't mind her," Casey said, "she's crazy."

"Crazy, you say, huh? If I'm crazy, my dear, I don't think that bodes too well for you," Vickie remarked.

"No," Casey replied matter-of-factly, "Probably not."

"Hmm. Okay. Good. Glad you're liking it." Hassan lit his cigarette with a lighter he'd pulled out.

Casey leaned back against the wall. She felt a little nervous, but mostly just warm and happy. It was somewhat ironic, but when she went out with Vickie, her Mother's grasp loosened on her night. She trusted Vickie implicitly. They had their own kind of 'bond.' It was probably because they'd known each other for so long and, Casey thought, Say what you will about her. She always gets me back alright. She's my best-bestest friend. Upon thinking that, she knew she'd gotten tipsy.

Hassan looked deeply at her and she felt her heart tapdance. She wanted to reach for his arm and bring him closer. She looked to her friend instead, only to find her quickly finishing her cigarette and stubbing it out.

"I'm gonna go start our next game if that's cool," she said nonchalantly, "I'm craving a hot dog too."

"Oh, get me a pretzel, 'kay?" Casey asked, knowing exactly why her friend was really heading in early, and trying not to let it get to her.

"Ok, love." Vickie said, smiling wryly then, and disappeared around the corner. Suddenly, Casey was again alone with Hassan, three days since the last time it had happened.

HASSAN:

"You look nice tonight," he said, and, in doing so, he tried not to look at the expanse of skin showing above the square-necked shape of her white dress. He couldn't help looking at her lips, though, fuller on the bottom, a rosy mauve color, punctuated by a distinct cupid's bow.

Casey pulled herself a bit tighter against the wall. "I do?"

"Yeah," he said, "I-- I like your dress," he said, and was surprised at how uncontrollable his urges felt, his urge to touch her in that moment.

"Oh," she said, looking down at her attire, "Thanks." She laughed gently, a fizzy-bubbly laugh.

As she did so, he looked too, and he ached for her. The truth he'd not wanted to confront earlier was at present, undeniable. He found her intoxicating, and wondered why, seeing her that day at the basketball court, had been any different from the other times he'd seen her.

He remembered the class they'd taken together, the one they'd talked about together at the park. He'd loved laughing with her. She was funny, deadpan and honest. They'd been silly then, purposefully making their stuffed animals odd and misshapen. He thought of his, buried on a top shelf somewhere in his closet, but, until then, he hadn't really known why he'd kept the thing.

He remembered seeing her that day at Mary's brother's game. He had not wanted to go, and almost hadn't, in fact, taking his time, finally sauntering in to sit, well after it had started. It was only by chance he'd looked up and seen Casey looking back. It was just the way she'd been looking at him; he felt he'd never been looked at quite like that before, like she bore straight down into the fibers that held him together.

"Yeah, no problem. Um, how've you been?" He asked.

"You asked me that already," she chuckled.

"Oh, you're right," he laughed, feeling foolish.

"I, um, I really did have a good time with you the other day," she said.

"Me too, me too," he replied.

Silence stood with them like a third wheel for too many moments.

"Will you meet me again there? At the park? I'm not trying to be weird. I'm just wondering if you'd like to, again..." Hassan asked, preparing himself for a 'No.' His free hand went to his pocket, and he looked at her expectantly.

CASEY:

Casey felt high. The air was warm. The breeze wrapped around her, danced in her hair, and he was only a couple steps away. She squirmed at the invitation. All of her wanted to go, but there was a flashing STOP sign in her read, like the road was out, and that there were no U-turns, that to go past meant crashing from a bridge. She wanted to say yes, but knew she must protect herself. She was tired of being hurt. She hurt enough. She hurt enough every day.

"Um.. yeah," she said, "I mean, I want to, but-- Look, um, this is... This is hard for me, okay? Because," Casey felt grateful for her liquid courage as she replied, "This is hard for me because you have a girlfriend."

"Oh," Hassan said. His throat tightened. A fist of worry formed in his pocket, and he swallowed hard. "It is?"

"Well, yeah." Casey took a long drag on her cigarette and straightened up a bit, looking out and past him. The overhead light on the building to the south of them swarmed with small gnats, hungry for the light.

"Casey, I want to get to know you. Things-- things with Mary are not good and I- Jeez, I feel like an ass, but you um..." He didn't know how to finish his sentence, and his stomach felt like TV static.

"Hassan," Casey said, and stepped closer, so that there were mere inches between them, "If you wanna try with me, then, well, we can try. Just not like that." She allowed herself the thing she'd been holding back for so long, amazed at her confidence. She reached out and traced the shape of his jaw, lightly with her fingers. "I know you, and you're not that guy." She smiled a languid, gentle smile.

Hassan was simmering inside, and the spot where she'd touched him was left with a kind of after-glow. It felt like he'd always feel the ghost of her fingers there. He was speechless, trying to breathe in closer whatever perfume she had on.

And then she was back around the corner, his only friends the fluttering moths casting long and ghastly shadows.