There she is, sitting all alone again, looking as though she has nothing left in the world.
Every time you cut through the soccer pitch on your way home from school, you see her sitting on the side benches, looking miserable. It’s been a week since Sunset Shimmer’s diabolical bid for domination, and every day since, she’s been alone. You see her there every afternoon, hands in her lap, staring out across the grass, never moving or speaking. You’re not even sure if she ever moves from that spot later in the day, or whether she has a place to go if she does. You were often curious to find out, but you were never sure whether she was still the manipulative queen of the school she’d always been, or if there were traces of that powerful demon still inside her.
That, and you’d always found her fairly attractive, but were afraid to speak up, for the same reasons.
You can spot her several yards away as you walk, but somehow, she seems like she can’t see you. Or anything, for that matter. She looks as if she’s given up on everything. She hadn’t been part of another incident since the Fall Formal, but it still seems the only people willing to even tolerate her at this point were those five girls who’d all helped stop her. And even then, Sunset didn’t seem like she wanted to spend a lot of time with them. It could have been her nursing her damaged pride, or her shame holding her back, or guilt in having done what she had done. It could even have been fear of being rejected by the only real friends she had (if one could even call them that). But you remember that look. You can imagine what it’s like to feel that way.
Especially when she starts crying.
Out of the blue, Sunset buries her face in her hands, hunches over, and begins emitting pained sobs that you can hear even from where you are. She shakes as her hands and face are buried in her lap, and her heels spread apart from each other, her toes touching, to steady herself. She looks vulnerable, brittle, like she’d come back from a massacre in which she was the sole survivor.
It’s a side of her you’ve never seen before.
This sight compels you to approach. You walk as quickly and gently as you can; you don’t want to scare her off. As you near her, you start noticing that her face is dirty and slightly bruised, and the left cuff of her leather jacket has a small tear. Has she been fighting? you speculate at first, but then remember her reputation. She’s not exactly the most popular person in school right now. It only makes your heartache worse for her.
Once you’re about halfway over, your insides jump as you see her look up from her hands, and her eyes land directly on you. Shaken, but undeterred, you keep approaching her, slowing down and addressing her when she sees you.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Sunset stares at you the whole remaining time you approach her. She doesn’t move, save the occasional blink that shakes free a loose tear. “W-what . . .” Sunset begins at last, her voice unsteady, “. . . what do you want?”
The question throws you, not in its delivery, but in the question itself. Still, the way she spoke gets to you after only a moment; she sounds defensive, almost frightened, as if you mean her harm. I’ve got to show her that I’m friendly.
“I . . . I saw you crying, and I thought you might need some help. Is there anything I can do?”
Sunset looks at you, her weary, wet-eyed expression now mixing with slight confusion. She seems as though she isn’t quite sure of what to make of you. It doesn’t last, though; she turns away, whispering weakly, “Please, I just . . . I’ve been having a bad day. I just wanna be alone right now.”
You feel your heart drop, and you hang your head in failure. “Oh . . . okay . . . well, I guess I’ll see you later, Sunset.” She doesn’t answer, and you feel your heart descend even more. It may have been just one attempt, but it still feels like there’s no getting through to her.
“I understand how you feel, Sunset,” you say before turning away. “You want to be a better person. I hope you get there someday.”
Sunset still doesn’t answer, so you have no choice but to turn and walk away. I have to let her know she’s not alone. I only hope I can get her to open up. She may not want to now, but I’ll wait if she needs time.
I’ll wait as long as it takes.
***
The next day, you see her in the same place at the same time. As you cut through the soccer field, you even see her in the exact same position. It’s as if nothing you said to her yesterday made any difference. In fact, the way she looks, she may not have ever moved at all.
I just have to keep trying. I won’t let her suffer while she has the chance to change.
Now a shorter distance away from the school than you were the first time you approached her, you make your second approach, quick and careful, hoping things will go better today. And just as before, Sunset looks up at you as you come closer; her eyes are once again wet with tears, and that scared, anxious look remains.
“Hi, Sunset.”
She looks at you, but doesn’t respond for a few seconds. “It’s . . .” she finally speaks in a broken voice, “. . . it’s you again.” You give her your name as she pauses, but she almost seems like she hadn’t listened. “What do you want?”
She still sounds like I’m about to hurt her. This is not good . . . .
“I just wanted to check up on you. You were really upset yesterday. Aren’t you feeling any better?”
Sunset sniffs, slipping a finger over her ear and pulling a lock of hair back. “No . . .” she admits, still not speaking far above a whisper.
You sigh, again feeling her pain. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“Why?” Sunset asks as she glares at you, seeming unsure of whether to trust you. “Why do you care about a . . . a person like me?”
You saw this question coming, but it does little to assuage you. “Well . . . like I said, I understand how you feel.”
“I doubt it,” Sunset replies a bit bitterly as she looks away. “You could never know what it’s like to have the whole world hate you for turning into a monster.”
You sigh again, heavier and guiltier. “Well, I was never a monster. I was never a bully, either. I never stole lunch money, or beat anyone up, or teased anyone. But I’ve seen how damaging bullying can be. When I was a little kid, I’d see kids bullying the weaker, smaller kids in school, and they only seemed like they do it to make themselves feel better. So I get what it means to want to do anything to feel good. To feel important. To feel . . . well . . . .”
“Validated?” Sunset finishes for you.
You look back at her in surprise. “Y-yeah. I guess it’s like, you felt like you didn’t matter, so you made everyone make you matter. If that makes any sense . . . .”
Sunset’s gaze drifts back down to the ground, then out to the courtyard at the front of the school. “Yeah, it does . . .” she says wistfully as she stares out at the front lawn. For a second, you swear she’s staring at the WonderColt statue.
Suddenly, she gets up from her seat and brushes back a lock of hair. “Look, I’m sorry,” she tells you, sounding a bit flustered, “but I have to go. I . . . I guess I’ll talk to you later.” She brushes off the back of her tight miniskirt before walking away, and it’s at that moment that you remember how beautiful she is. The way she looks, the way she’s dressed, her hair, her face, her eyes—if you hadn’t known her, you’d never tell that she could have ever been a monster.
For a moment, you speculate why you want to help her, and it’s not entirely because you understand where she is right now. It’s because, possibly, this has become more than just infatuation from afar.
“You mean that?” you call after her, without thinking, before she gets too far. She stops, turning back towards you.
“What?”
“That we can talk again later. I liked talking to you today, and . . . well, I hope you did, too.”
Sunset looks at you in confusion for a moment, but slowly, her mouth draws up into a faint smile. That slight trace of a smile on her soft face, a sign that your words are getting through to her, drives your earlier suspicions about yourself home. Right now, her smile, small as it is, is the most beautiful thing in the world to you.
Sunset nods slightly and replies, “I did. I didn’t think I would, but I did . . . .” She starts blushing ever so faintly, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “Oh, yeah, uh . . .” she mumbles, “I . . . gotta go . . . see you tomorrow. Bye.” And with that, she turns and walks away, and although you can’t help but watch her from behind (after all, she does have a cute little butt), it’s the whole picture you admire. Beneath all that leather and mystery is a fragile, vulnerable girl, and with the inside proving to be just as lovely as the outside, there’s no room for denial.
I think I’m falling in love . . . .
This makes you even more eager to help her. You’d give anything to see that smile again.
***
“Hi, Sunset.”
You greet her in the same place at the same time the next day. She had been sitting there in the same languid, melancholy position until you spoke, and she looks up, her face brightening into a more flourishing, transcendent version of the smile you saw yesterday.
She calls you by name and greets you, “Hi! How are you today?” She scoots over and pats the wood of the bench next to her, offering you a seat.
“I’m great!” you reply, pulling yourself out of your backpack and dropping it between your feet as you sit next to her. “How about you?”
Immediately, Sunset’s smile wears away. “I don’t know . . .” she replies with trepidation. “Ever since the Fall Formal, I just hang out on the sidelines, trying not to be noticed. I’m not even sure what to do . . . .”
Her mood brings your spirits down, but you strive to not let it show. “Well, what is it you want?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know what I want. I used to think that power and recognition would make me happy, so it’s all I thought about. But then Twilight and the others gave me a chance to start over, and . . . I don’t know what I want for myself. But I know I have to make up for what I’ve done. To prove I’m worth the chance I was given.” She turns to you, searching your expression with wide, sparkling eyes. “Did you ever feel that way when you were in grade school?”
You’re taken aback by the question, and you immediately comb your memory for an answer. “Hmmm . . . every now and then, I guess. Junior high, mostly. I’d get in trouble with my parents and teachers sometimes, but I didn’t want them to just give up on me. I don’t think anything hurts more than someone you love turning their back on you . . . .”
“Tell me about it,” Sunset replied. “My teacher from my old school did the same thing. I’m not even sure what it was I’d done that was the last straw for her, but she just . . . couldn’t do it anymore. I guess she couldn’t take certain risks with a student of ma— . . . math. A-and science. B-because I was such a bright kid and a fast learner and all, I—”
“Sunset,” you cut off her nervous cover-ups, “I saw a person turn into a mad succubus, brainwash a whole school and try to take over the world, and I saw six girls turn into magical anthro-horses to save the day.” You rest a hand on her shoulder and grin. “Nothing you say is gonna sound crazy.”
Sunset chuckles and blushes slightly, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, the point is, I wanted to be worthy of my old teacher’s attention, and I thought taking it by force was the only way. But now that that’s over, I don’t know what I want for myself. I just . . .” she starts to falter, but presses on, “I feel so . . . alone . . . .”
That last word makes you feel a deep twinge of pain in your heart. I suppose being a bully for so long does that to you, you think to yourself, remembering how you felt whenever you’d felt angry enough to push people away. You don’t realize what you could have had, until it’s too late . . . .
“Let me ask you something,” you say as you hear her last words. “If you wanted to be alone before, why hang out here? I mean, you’re not exactly alone out here.”
Sunset glances at you, then looks back out to the grass, a pensive finger to her chin. “Hmmm . . . I’m not really sure,” she answers, shrugging. “I guess I wasn’t as eager to be alone as I thought. I guess . . . I guess deep down, I want someone to see me and ask to be my friend.” She glances at you again, and you notice that she has a faint blush on her face. “Kinda like you did . . . .”
This last phrase touches your heart in a pleasant way, but that’s also when an idea snaps to mind.
“Well, there you go!” you suddenly speak up. “If you feel alone, this is a good chance to start making new friends! You said you wanted to make up for the things you’ve done, right? Well, there’s no better way than to show the whole school that you’re a good friend!”
“But I’m not a good friend,” Sunset replies, her tone weakening. “How can I be, after everything I’ve done? I don’t know what to do or say to get people to like me. I can’t hold a conversation. I can’t even talk to people because of how they react to me! How can I be a good friend when no one will let me?”
“That’s your problem, Sunset. You never really know until you try. I mean, those five girls at the end of it all, they gave you a chance. They might as well have offered you friendship. They’re not the ones not letting you.” You stop, gently place your hand under Sunset’s chin, and bring her face up to meet your gaze. “You are.”
Sunset begins to tremble under your touch. Her skin prickles, and her eyes start watering. “What if they don’t like me?” she half-whispers. “What if they still hate me for what I did? What if they just want to bully me, too? I . . . I’m scared . . . I’m just so scared . . . .”
“You can do it,” you tell her resolutely, your eyes never leaving hers. “All you have to do is try. They’re waiting for you right now. I’m sure of it. Besides, don’t worry about them not liking you. They will. Because I do.”
At this admission, Sunset’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush to match her top. The color of her sky-blue eyes is particularly magnificent when reflecting the sun through the slim barrier of her tears. If your heart wasn’t captured by her before, it is now. Seeing her gorgeous face, hearing her soft breaths, feeling the skin of her knee under your hand—
“Oh!” You finally notice that you’ve gone too far, and you jerk your hand back. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t . . . I didn’t see . . . .”
“I-it’s okay,” Sunset stutters, shaken back to reality, just as you were.
After a few seconds’ pause, you catch each other’s gaze again. It’s not as nice as before, though. This time, there’s something in her eyes that you see reflected in yours; she undoubtedly sees the same gaze, and knows what you know at this point. It’s painful for you to admit, but it’s true.
This won’t work between you two.
“I’d better go,” Sunset murmurs as she stands up. “I . . . I’d better get ready for tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” you agree, not wanting to make a bigger fool of yourself. “That’s probab—wait. ‘Tomorrow’? What happens tomorrow?”
“Well . . . .” Sunset brushes back a lock of hair as she starts walking away. “ . . . I think I want to follow your advice. At least, I’ll try . . . .”
You are quickly overcome with surprise and glee. “That’s great! Good to hear, Sunset!”
“Yeah . . . so, um . . . see you around?”
“You bet. See ya!”
She turns and walks off, and you stand there entranced as she departs. She’s taking a major step, and this excites you. She’ll have friends, she’ll have someone else to talk to, and she’ll be happy.
All I want is for her to be happy, you say longingly as she finally vanishes from view. Because it can’t be with me. We just met. We hardly know each other. And she’s too good for me. She may not realize it, but she is.
But if she does like me, I’ll wait for her. Right now, she needs friends more than she needs me. More friends. Better friends. And even if they take up all of her time, I’ll wait for her.
I’ll always wait for her . . . .
***
After school. Same time, same place. You check your watch; the time can’t possibly be wrong. You glance all around you, and you feel your heart sink with each look around the soccer pitch.
“She’s not here . . . .”
What you’d anticipated would happen four days ago is looking likely now. But since that time, you hadn’t seen Sunset in your usual meeting place. You’d even waited around for an hour on Friday to make sure, but she didn’t show. She really did it, you’d thought that day after you’d given up and gone home. She asked Applejack and those other girls to welcome her. The step she took paid off. I’m so proud of her . . . .
You’d tried to think of it differently over the weekend. More positively. She’s not standing me up. She just has her own friends now. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see me anymore. She’s just busy, that’s all. Busy with other friends. It’s no big deal. It’s not like it would have worked between us anyway . . . .
It was all you could say to ignore the heartbreak.
You turn and walk back down the pitch, feeling the hole in your heart widening and stinging you inside. You resolve not to think about it. Sunset is happy now, and it’s what you wanted. This thought runs through your mind like a mantra as you make your way to the front lawn, near the WonderColt statue, trying to ignore the chatter all around you. There’s one particularly strident voice that has grabbed your attention, and you turn to hear it again. Is that . . . . ?
“Wait! Wait up!”
You hear her call your name. You see her running up to you. Her eyes are sparkling in the autumn sun, and her smile is wider and purer than you’d ever seen it.
“Sunset!”
As you see her coming, you run toward her, and the second you reach her, you wrap your arms around each other. You feel light as a feather, gladder to see her than ever, and she gives a slight giggle when you hold her close. She’s here! you celebrate in your mind. She came after all! You can’t even understand why you’re so ecstatic, more so than any moment you’ve spent with her, but it doesn’t matter. You breathe in the flowery aroma of her red-and-yellow hair, and your joy is boundless.
“You were right!” she speaks up excitedly as soon as you part. “Remember when you said to try making some new friends? Well, I talked to Applejack and the girls on Friday, and they said they were going to hang out for a bit at Sugarcube Corner before going home. So, I asked if I could come, and they said yes! I went with them, and we talked and had snacks, and it was so much fun! Did you know they’re all dating someone right now? Well, except for Applejack, but she said there’s someone working at her farm right now who’s flirting with her. Oh, we had such a good time! I think they really like me!”
The hole in your heart begins to fill, and your elation for Sunset swells. “That’s great! I knew you could do it, Sunset!” You hesitate before you continue, “You know, for a while there, I was a little worried about you. I was really hoping you’d find someone new to talk to so you wouldn’t feel lonely anymore. Now it’s happened, and—” You cut yourself off, knowing how that sentence should end. And now you don’t need me anymore. It’s been on your mind for days. It’s on the tip of your tongue right now. But now that she’s here, you hold back.
Because I know I’ll lose her. If she doesn’t need me, we won’t be able to talk anymore. And I’ll . . . I’ll never get to tell her . . . .
“You know,” Sunset steps in after a lengthy pause, as the two of you start walking together, “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be sitting on that bench alone, crying my eyes out.” She pauses for a minute as you both stop in front of the statue, and she looks into your eyes the whole time. Her cheeks begin to redden as she finally finishes, “Thank you . . . so much . . . .”
Now your face starts warming up, as well. “Well, I just did what I’d want someone to do, I guess. Besides, now you have your own friends. That means . . .” you hesitate again, but you can’t let this go on anymore. “That means . . . you don’t need me bugging you anymore. You have five new friends who can help you out more than I can—”
“Whoa, hold it,” Sunset interrupts you earnestly. “You think just because I have new friends, it means we can’t talk anymore?”
“Well . . . I . . . .” You try to reply, but you didn’t realize how silly this point of view was until Sunset put it into words. You’d only thought about it before; now it dawns on you that you never really needed to.
“I can have as many friends as I want, you know,” Sunset continues, chuckling a bit. “It’s not like I’ll ever replace you. I mean . . . you’re kinda the first friend I ever had here . . . and you helped me so much, just by being there. You don’t know what that means to me . . . .”
You sigh slightly, not knowing whether you are upsetting her or not. “Sunset, I . . . I-I didn’t really do anything, I just—”
“Yes, you did. You didn’t just give me the courage to try. You reached out to me. You gave me something I needed: companionship. I needed someone to talk to who wouldn’t judge me by the mistakes I made. Someone who wouldn’t see me as a villain. Someone just to chat with. And you were there. And you didn’t even want anything in return.”
“Well, no, I didn’t,” you say truthfully. You know you cannot keep your feelings hidden forever. “But I did think,” you begin uneasily, “that . . . I don’t know, it’s kinda stupid . . . .”
“It’s okay,” Sunset coaxes you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You can tell me. It’s only fair that I listen to you, now.”
Your hands start shaking at your sides, and a mixture of shame and fear is turning your stomach and making your knees quiver. “Well . . . Sunset, I . . . I’ve been feeling something lately . . . something strong, but also kind of sudden . . . .”
“Go on.”
“And I thought it would be best to wait to tell you, but I didn’t know when, and I was afraid to, but I was afraid not to, and . . . i-it’s just really messed up. I’m not even sure you’ll understand . . . .”
You then see the look in her wide, sparkling eyes, and you feel more welcomed by it than anything she could have said. Now you feel surer of yourself than ever—sure that you can tell her how you feel, and nothing will ruin your friendship.
“Sunset . . . I . . . .”
“Go on, it’s okay.”
“Sunset . . . I have . . . I have a bit of a cru—”
“LOOK OUT!”
Without warning, Sunset grabs your shoulders and throws you to the side. Your vision whirls as you roll across the grass, and all you hear is the smacking, splashing impact of several small objects—they sound like water balloons—and Sunset yelping in distress each time. You don’t see what’s happening until you right yourself and look back, at which time four blows have landed.
When you stand up and look at Sunset, you see her staring at the WonderColt statue, holding up her arms defensively and covered in a brownish-green fluid. You turns towards it and you see where the liquid came from, and at that point, Sunset’s fearful words from a few days ago echo in your head: What if they still hate me for what I did? What if they just want to bully me, too?
“Go back to horse land, you freak!” yells out a pink-skinned young girl in a tiara sitting on top of the statue.
“Yeah, we don’t want you here!” yells her gray-skinned, bespectacled companion on the other side. Both are carrying water balloons, and it looks like they are filled with the liquid that Sunset is covered in—rotted food or liquefied garbage for all you know—but the smell is particularly potent. Even standing upwind, you can tell it’s crippling.
You feel a streak of fury burst through you at this offense. You don’t know the names of those two girls, but you’d seen them occasionally getting into mischief, and you’d fleetingly hoped on each occasion that CHS would bring back the paddle for girls like them.
“Hey!” you yell at them, letting the anger boil over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
The two girls quickly jump off the statue and bolt from the scene, laughing and panting like maniacs.
“Get back here!” you scream as you start after them, but you stop before passing the statue—Sunset needs help. Quickly taking out your phone and snapping a picture of the two delinquents before they get too far, you then turn and run back to her, and your heart breaks at the horrified look on her grime-covered face. Her hair, the sleeves and edges of her jacket, and her skirt are all dripping with the viscous material. It runs in miniature rivulets down her legs, soaking the tops of her boots, and the odor gets stronger as you approach her.
“Sunset,” you speak up, “are you all right?”
There’s a brief silence as Sunset simply stands there, her eyes wide and her breaths short and shaky. Finally, without warning, she bursts into hysterical sobs and collapses to her knees, covering her face with her hands.
Your already aching heart now crumbles to dust. “Sunset . . . .”
“It doesn’t matter!” she shrieks through her sobs. “It doesn’t matter how many friends I make! No one is ever gonna let me live this down! I could make all the friends in the world, and someone will still only see me as the demon of Canterlot High! I’ll never be anything more! Never!!” She uses up her words quickly, and returns to pure sobbing.
You drop down to your knees and reach out a hand to rub her back. “Shh,” you whisper to her as she cries, “it’s okay. Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know you. They don’t know you’ve changed. Real friends will try to get to know you. And if they don’t see you as a different person, they’re not worth it.”
Sunset doesn’t answer. She remains on her knees, hunched over and bawling into her hands as if incapable of anything else. All you can do is rub her back and keep whispering that she’ll be okay. You’re not sure what else to do, and the feeling of helplessness hurts you. Now, not even caring about the ugly, vomit-colored slop covering Sunset, you reach out and attempt to hug her.
“No, please,” Sunset insists, stumbling backwards and landing on her behind. She turns her face away as she squeezes her eyes shut. “Please don’t touch me . . . I don’t want you to get all dirty, too . . . .”
“It’s okay,” you assure her. “I don’t mind. I just want to help you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted . . . .” Once again, you approach, and you go to wrap your arms around her. She gives no struggle, settling down soon and resuming her anguished sobs. She presses her face into your chest and wraps her arms around your waist; as a result, the ugly grime rubs off on your shirt, and the smell gets stronger. “It’s okay,” you repeat soothingly, ignoring the odor that makes you want to gag, “it’s okay . . . .”
After a few minutes of crying, Sunset pulls herself out of your embrace, sniffs, and wipes her face with the only clean part of her hand. “I’m okay, now,” she insists. “I’ll . . . I’ll just call Applejack or one of the girls to come pick me up.” You nod as you both stand up, and Sunset takes her phone out of the breast pocket of her jacket. When you both see it, Sunset gasps in frustration to find that it, too, is covered in the dark-green muck. She presses the screen to activate it, but it does not respond.
“No!” she screams, the hand clasping her phone shaking all the way up to her shoulder. “I had all their numbers in this phone, and it’s ruined! And I can’t go home yet! I don’t even have a washer or dryer! It could take days to clean this outfit!”
You look back at Sunset with a furrowed brow. “How do you not have—?”
“It’s hard getting appliances in a world you don’t belong to,” Sunset answers, interrupting. This never occurred to you, and you nod in response. As an adjunct to this thought, you realize that she might not even have a home in this world. Wherever she stays at, if anywhere at all, it would take her a long time to walk back, and by then, the damage to her clothes would be irreparable.
You realize then what you have to do. It’s risky, and it might not make me look good, but I still wanna help her.
“You can come to my place, if you want.”
Sunset looks at you with wide, slightly worried eyes. “What . . .” she replies, her voice still shaky, “. . . what do you mean?”
“I could drive you to my house. It’s not far, and we can get there quickly enough to save your clothes. You can have a nice hot shower to wash that stuff away, and I can lend you a long shirt or something while your clothes are washing.”
Sunset keeps looking at you, but the confusion in her eyes slowly degrades to skepticism. “Wait, hang on,” she says, her tone matching her look, “you’re not trying anything funny, are you?”
“No, absolutely not!” you reply speedily, predicting this uncertainty. “I promise, I won’t try to make a move on you. Once you’re all clean and your clothes are washed and dry, you can walk out my door without any trouble. I swear.”
Sunset continues to eye you with reluctance, until she responds with, “Pinkie Promise?”
“. . . What?”
“Pinkie Promise. Pinkie Pie taught it to me while we were out the other day. It goes like this.” Then, Sunset made an imaginary cross on her chest with her finger, then flapped her hands like bird wings, and finally poked herself on the top of her eyelid with her index finger, all while reciting: “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
“Uhhh . . . .” You feel unsteady at this point, but there’s no question what you have to do. I want her to trust me. I have to do this.
“Um . . . cross my heart,” you repeat, crossing your chest, “and . . . how does it go?”
“Hope to fly,” Sunset aides you.
“Okay . . . and hope to fly . . . stick a muffin in my—”
“Cupcake.”
“Right, cupcake . . . stick a cupcake in my eye.”
“Good,” Sunset approves with a nod and a grin. “But I’m warning you now—if you ever break a Pinkie Promise, you lose a friend’s trust. Forever.”
Seconds after she speaks, a car drives by the front of the school, and a pink-haired girl sticks her head out of the passenger side window, screaming as she passes by, “FOOOOREEEEEEEEEVVVEEEEEEEEEEERRRRR!!”
Sunset giggles at this spectacle, while you simply stand and wonder aloud, “What the . . . .” You also briefly wonder who’s driving that car.
“Okay, then,” Sunset says cheerily, taking one of your arms into both of her hands. “Let’s go.”
You see her bright, beautiful smile shine through all the muck on her face, and it takes your breath away. As much as you want her, though, you maintain staunch chivalry. I’ll take her home, get her cleaned up, and let her leave. That’s all. It gets harder to believe that as you feel Sunset’s head gently rest against your shoulder.
The two of you head to the parking lot and reach your car, her head on your shoulder the whole way there. As you get inside, she briefly offers to clean it out afterwards. “It will get messy, you know, and it’ll be my fault—”
“No it won’t,” you say as you decline, “besides, it’s no trouble.” Sunset simply beams before she gets inside. You enter the driver’s side, and the smell hits you right away. As you roll out of the parking lot, Sunset rolls down her window, but when you don’t do the same, you can catch her glancing at you.
The drive is quick, but silent. Seconds before you slow down to enter your driveway, though, you hear her softly speak from the passenger seat:
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
You glance at her, and feel your heart flutter at the sound of her voice. “Anything for you, Sunset.”
The car pulls up the driveway and stops, and the two of you disembark and proceed inside your moderately-sized home. You allow her in first, and when you enter, you hit the lights, illuminating the brown wood paneling and simple grayish carpets.
Sunset immediately takes off her boots and her socks, and walks across the carpet with adorable, dainty feet. You kick your shoes off as well and follow her. “Okay, so the laundry room is right across from my bedroom. Down the hall, first door on the left.” You take the lead, and Sunset follows you into the hall, where you both stop at a mid-sized double door. You open the doors to a simple laundry room, more of a pocket than an actual room. The washer and dryer stand next to each other, with slim space inside, to the left, for a shelf.
“I’ll look for something for you to wear,” you say to her. “Once you start up the load, the bathroom’s the last door down, on your left. Okay?”
Sunset nods, looking at you with her luminous eyes. A small blush traces itself across her face. “Thank you . . . this means a lot to me . . . .”
“Like I said. Anything for you.”
You turn and enter your bedroom and start rifling through your dresser for a long shirt, or something that Sunset can wear for a while. While you search, you take off your own crud-covered shirt and throw on a plain gray one. With a little extra time, you finally find a white shirt that comes to your thighs; since she’s slightly shorter than you, it should work perfectly. “Okay, I found something,” you say as you turn back towards the door—yelping when you realize you forgot to close it.
Sunset is standing at the washer with her back to you. Her jacket is on the floor next to the washer, her top and skirt are off, and she is unhooking her vivid dark-red bra while slipping off her matching panties at the same time. The hall light shines off of her bare orange skin, giving slight shade to the contours of her shoulders, back, and perky round butt. She turns her head towards you, tossing her hair behind her at the same time and, in spite of the green gunk, giving the effect of a glamorous supermodel.
With a lightning-fast hand, you reach out and slam the bedroom door. “I’m sorry!” you yell from the other side, cramming your eyes closed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to see! I forgot to close the door! Please don’t be mad! I didn’t mean it, I swear!!”
“It’s okay!” you hear Sunset’s voice from the hall. “Relax, I don’t mind. As long as you’re only looking!” She laughs at her own joke before you hear her footsteps aimed for the bathroom. The door closes, and you soon hear the rush of water in the shower. You take a heavy sigh and trudge over to your bed, flopping down on it and covering your face with the shirt. Jeez, I’m such an ass! you castigate yourself as you lie there, waiting for Sunset to just dry her clothes, put them back on, and leave.
Twenty minutes later, the water shuts off, and you hiccup your heart into your throat. She’ll be coming to dry her clothes and put on your shirt any second now. Oh, man, what do I do now?! you panic in your head. Now she’ll have a towel on! She’ll still be wet! What do I do?! What do I say?! You hear the laundry room door opening and Sunset fiddling with the washer and dryer, and you feel your heart slamming into your chest.
Finally, there’s a knock at the door, accompanied by the call, “Okay, I’m out now.”
You yelp as you sit up from the bed, but you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Get a grip! you command yourself. She’s not about to hurt you or anything. She just needs something to wear while her clothes dry. Just relax! Taking another breath and feeling calmer already, you stand up, go to the door, and open it.
When you see Sunset standing there in nothing but a towel, your calm goes swiftly out the window.
“Like I said, just look, but don’t touch,” Sunset chuckles in response to you turning away. You slowly turn your head back to her, and you see that her towel is wrapped around her just high enough, and just low enough, to cover what needs covering. Her hair is wrapped up in another towel on top of her head, and the residual moisture from her shower makes her slim, soft body glisten in the light. Despite your earlier calm, you can’t stop looking.
“Umm . . .” Sunset tries to speak, “can I . . . come in?”
“Huh?” you reply in an asinine tone before your mind finally catches up with you. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, uh, come on in.”
As you stand aside to let her into your room, she smiles and rolls her eyes. “Listen,” she says seriously, “I wanna talk to you about something.”
“Wait, don’t you wanna get dressed first?” you ask, turning back to the bed to retrieve the shirt you found. “I got you something you can throw on—”
“That can wait,” she stops you, pulling you back by your shoulder. “This is important.”
“Okay, then . . . what is it, Sunset?”
“I want to know what it was you were trying to say to me before,” she explains. “You had something you wanted to tell me, but you had trouble saying it. What was it?”
Hearing this makes your heart sink. You reach up to pull her hand away from your shoulder and you turn away from her, walking to the back of the room. “I can’t,” you say simply.
“What? But . . . but why?”
You sigh wearily and attempt to explain, “Look, I . . . I want to be your friend, Sunset, but I know that won’t happen if . . . if I . . . .”
“What? Please tell me. Whatever it is, I won’t let it ruin what we have.”
You bow your head and squeeze your eyes shut. It seems like just opening your mouth is agonizing. Bracing yourself, you turn back to face Sunset and finally let it all out:
“Sunset, I love you. We’ve been talking for only a few days, but we’ve shared really deep things with each other, we have a lot in common, and I feel like we have a really strong connection. But we don’t know each other that well, and now you’re naked in my house because I wanted you to come here. Do you have any idea how that makes me look? What I thought you’d think of me? I didn’t want any of this to ruin our friendship, and as much as I love you, I want you to be happy, and that won’t happen if I’m hung up on you! I can’t drag you down with my stupid feelings just because I think you’re the nicest, sweetest, most beautiful girl I’ve ever met! You deserve better than me! You deserve someone you can bond with! Someone you’ll actually like! Someone your friends will want to meet! Someone who’s . . . b-better than me . . . .”
It’s not until you finish that you realize you’ve been crying almost the whole time you’ve been speaking.
You bury your face into your hands as you feel your warm tears drop between your fingers. It’s gotten to where it hurts to look at her. The shame stabs you from all sides like a series of red-hot swords. You don’t even have the words to describe your feelings. You just know that you can’t bear knowing Sunset is watching you.
After a few seconds of crying, you feel her warm, gentle touch as she pulls your hands away. She brings a hand up to your chin and points your gaze at her. “Do you mean all that?” she asks you, her eyes full of sweet, starry-eyed wonder. “Do you really love me that much?”
Your view of her is clouded by the tears in your eyes, but you nod, shaking one loose and letting it slide down your cheek.
Sunset looks back at you, her own face pained and anxious, and you can do or say nothing to respond. Soon, you hear her voice again, as soft and caressing as her hands. “You’ve been making yourself sick all this time because you’re not sure what you want.” You feel her other hand approach your face, fingers easing over your skin as if touching priceless marble. “Didn’t you ever think about what I might want?”
“Of course I did. I know you wouldn’t want me.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“We’ve talked for four days!”
“What difference does that make?”
“Sunset, come on! How could you fall in love with me in four days?”
“Maybe I did! Did you ever think of that?!”
Her voice has grown unusually vicious, as if offended by your way of thinking. Dumbstruck, you stare into her eyes, which display a mixture of anguish and resentment. “Maybe I do love you back,” she repeats, much calmer now. “Maybe you were my first real friend here, and maybe you gave me the courage I needed to be a better person. Maybe we really do have a connection. Maybe you helped me make new friends, and even so, maybe you’re all I could talk about around them. Maybe you mean more to me than you ever thought before. Maybe . . . .” She too, starts to tear up as she speaks. “Maybe I was just waiting for you to say it back.”
Your eyes widen at this admission. You gasp as you attempt to answer her. “I . . . a-all this time . . . I was waiting for you, but . . . I don’t believe . . . .”
Sunset places both hands to your face, soothing you with her touch. “I guess we both have a ways to go, huh?” She smiles at you as she stops speaking.
You look back into her eyes, and forget for just that moment that she’s not even clothed. For now, only those gorgeous sky-blue eyes matter. Those eyes that you waited for—that you now feel free to give yourself to.
“I guess we do . . . .”
There is a lengthy pause as she returns your look of awe, the look you get from simply staring into her eyes. You reach a hand to her face and run a finger lightly across her delicate cheek, and her hands descend from your face to your shoulders. Instinct takes you over, and you move forward, lowering your face to meet hers. She leans in as well, meeting you quickly, and you share a long, passionate kiss.
Sunset slips her arms around your neck, and your arms caress her waist. Her fingers massage your shoulders as your hands smoothly run down to her hips, deprived of the sweet feel of her skin only by the damp towel. You pull her in close and press her body to yours, your hand pressing deep against her behind. She moans contentedly as her hand cradles the back of your head, her barely-covered, still-moist breasts rubbing against your chest and dampening your fresh shirt. Her other hand vigorously rubs your back, and you return her moan of pleasure into her mouth. You take in the musky smell of body wash and shampoo as you keep the connection, and you feel her hand trickle down your back and stop at the end of your shirt. When she starts lifting it, your eyes widen, and you separate.
“What . . . what’s wrong?” Sunset asks breathily, tugging her towel back up.
“I can’t . . . I just feel like . . . I don’t—”
Sunset reaches out and presses her fingers to your lips. “You don’t want to wait anymore, do you?”
“Well, no, but . . . it’s just that—”
“Shhh . . . don’t put yourself down. You proved to me that I’m a good person and that people can like me. You need to remember that about yourself.”
“Well . . .” you struggle, but can’t find any more words. Your inexplicable reluctance pains you. I want to be ready for her, you think to yourself, but I just feel so selfish . . . .
“I want you to be ready,” Sunset tells you, laying her hand against your cheek. “But if you’re not . . . I understand . . . .”
“Wait, please don’t be upset,” you plead, your hands on both of her shoulders. “You’re right, I want to be ready, but . . . I just . . . I’m afraid we’re rushing it. I don’t want to lose you, friend or not.”
Sunset calls you by name. “It’s all right,” she coaxes you, “believe me, I understand. But I’m okay with it. Really. I want this.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything.”
“And you really want me, even though we haven’t spent a lot of time together?”
“That’s the best part. We’ll be able to spend more time together.”
“I . . . I’m just not sure . . . .”
“Please, trust me.” Sunset takes a step backwards, loosens the towel around her waist, and lets it drop. You marvel at her flawless naked body—her shapely breasts, the soft bend of her waist into her hips, her long, immaculate legs, her trim, well-toned stomach—it’s like every part of her is calling out to you. “I’m ready.”
As if time has been distended, she walks toward you slowly, and you step up to meet her. She sinks into your arms, your faces meet, and once again, you kiss. You press her close to you, your hand now firmly planted on the soft, supple skin of her backside. Your other arm grasps her around her slim waist, and her hands curl tenderly around your neck. You feel her hands slide down your body, and you feel a moan escape your mouth and into hers once again, until her hands find the button of your jeans. She undoes them effortlessly and begins to slide them off.
You pull your lips away for just a minute, and her lips pay close attention to your cheeks, chin and neck. “Your . . . clothes are probably done by now . . . .”
Sunset presses her lips back to yours again as she begins to lift your shirt. “Don’t worry,” she mumbles as she stays locked against you, “I won’t be needing them for a while . . . .”
At the sound of this, your excitement overwhelms you, and your busy hand squeezes her butt tightly, making her squeal and giggle into your mouth.
“You were ready for this, weren’t you?” she asks playfully
“Only if you are.”
“Oh, I am . . . I certainly am . . . .”
You fall backwards onto your bed, your pants around your ankles tripping you up, and Sunset swiftly follows, sitting in your lap and giving you a follow-up kiss. Your left hand creeps around her waist, but your right hand now cups over her left breast, both arms leaving their places only long enough to pull away from the sleeves of your shirt. Your lips must take a similar break from touching her as your shirt comes off over your head. You feel her lips move to your cheek and your ear, so you move yours to her neck and chest, touching them against her warm, welcoming skin as if kissing pure gold. You hear a quiet shifting above you, and you glance up to see the towel descend from her head and hit the bed behind you. Her fiery mane of hair, shimmering with moisture in the room’s light, drapes her shoulders and touches your back as she continues kissing your neck.
You pull yourself away from kissing her breasts as you glance up at her again. “Hey, are you okay?” you ask, nearly breathless.
She replies in a similar tone as she shakes back her liberated hair. “I just feel so . . . free.”
She curls up her legs and wraps her body around you as she nibbles your shoulder. You scoop your hand under her butt and lean back, cradling her in your arms as she scurries up and down your naked body, her lips touching every bare bit of skin she sees. She works her way down to your chest as her fingers slip carefully into your underwear, and your hands massage both breasts while she pulls them down. Finally, you both make one final incredible connection of the day, with your hand reaching behind her and pushing her down onto you from behind, your fingers pressing into the skin of her butt once again and eliciting a combination of a gasp and a shriek as you meet.
You spent almost a week waiting for Sunset. And it is beautiful.
