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#imagine getting friendzoned not in a r/niceguy “im so nice to you i deserve to be with you” way
dykeomania · 11 months
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i don't really mean to ruin your day, but like (not proofread),
made sleepy by unforgiving winters and a population of people who were only young, once, the carnival reminds modern!ellie’s small wyoming town of what it’s like to be youthful, and alive.
tellingly so, people in her town consider this the happiest event of the year. but if it’s just between ellie and god, the significance of multicolored fair rides or the sun beaming hard enough to scorch the morning dew off of joel’s front lawn faces no match against the hatchling of your smile, once made dormant under the hazy coat of november through april, and defrosted by the month of july.
it’s the 4th. and amongst a spectacular of beams and fireworks slashing through a sky made thick with clouds, ellie swears that tonight she will kiss the girl of her daydreams. 
she has also sworn this, for the past three summers.
for the past three summers, she has ridden the same rides with you in almost identical order – familiar of every trough, and yet screaming with you through every loop. you take the same edibles, and you get the same order of fried concoctions, from the same stand and share the same $7 lemonade, from the same cup and the same swirly straw. 
it’s the same saccharine fling, bubble-wrapped in infatuation, and spared the harm of teeth sinking into its flesh in fear of eviscerating the bond that lies underneath.
but she swears, she will kiss you. this time, she will. she swears, she will.
with tongues coated with carbs and a mind made dizzy with sugar, you make the decision to ride the ferris wheel. she buries herself in the brash cackle of your laugh as she nearly rocks the cart off of its hinges. as you settle, belly and chest full of brightness, ellie watches you. your back is slumped against the metal, your head is thrown, and a hand is splayed over your stomach. the neons of the park flicker and change as you the two of you pass through them. ellie watches as they paint your body, electric; this way, she can see the symptoms of summer, highlighted, right on your cheekbones. beaming brightly, adding a shimmer to your smile, like a sparkle on a wink. ellie always has a tendency of falling in love with girls who are nothing like her. in the summer, ellie just burns. but not you. you have always glowed. 
the fireworks break through the sky, booming through the city like miniature cannons. the only unpredictable thing of all this, is the show. pop, a red firework. pop, a green one. pop, pop, sizzle. this one, a cluster of both.
boom. 
the familiar crust of a hill climbs up ellie’s throat and it’s an act of strength to swallow it all down. “wow,” she hears you remark, completely airless, a loopy grin stretching across your lips. “that’s so pretty.”
ellie nods, damning the fireworks and instead only looking at you. “yeah..” ellie swallows, again, hearing the croak that lines her own voice. “well, you’re pretty, too.”
there’s a silence that hangs, like your eyes, onto hers. and then it’s broken -- shattered not by combustion, but by a giggle turned spitting cackle, tumbling uncontrollably from your lips.
ellie’s furrows her eyebrows, “are you.. are you okay?” and starts laughing with you, only half-nervous, but like–
sizzle, sizzle,
“no.. no.. well– like yeah. like, no, yeah i’m just..” you lick your lips, close your eyes,
grin, and shake your head,
“i’m just really glad that you’re my friend.” 
boom.
the firework burns and dies in the iris of ellie’s eye, and brings with it ellie’s reminder to blink. or to do anything, really.
ellie has a tendency of falling in love with girls who are completely different from her. who want different things, and go at different paces,
who are her best friends.
she smiles. tight.
“yeah..” ellie concludes. “yeah, me too.”
she holds your hand on top of her lap, and halfheartedly thumbs over your knuckles. she lets you slot your fingers into hers, the same as you always do. and she squeezes, like normal. lets you rest your head on her shoulder, and rests her forehead atop of yours, like usual.
pop. pop. pop.
this year, she chalks her excuse up to.. loitering in opportunity. wading in questions she knows the answer to.
sizzle. sizzle. sizzle.
maybe, she’ll try again next summer. 
pop,
or maybe, it’s better that she doesn’t.
sizzle.
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