Dreaded Days

Summary: Some people really enjoy Valentine's Day. Others don't.

Author's Note:

This is my entry for the

Literotica 2022 Valentine's Day Story Contest

. It is the story of a young man's attempts to grow up and find love and happiness. Please read, vote, and let me know your thoughts. Thanks!

_______________________

Prologue

Blue and red lights from his patrol car flashed over the fresh-fallen snow, highlighting the fluffy flakes swirling around him as he tried to use his Maglite to light the way ahead.

With the snow already over 8-inches deep and still falling, it was a wonder he'd noticed the tracks trailing off the edge where the car had apparently slid off the blacktop as the driver entered the curve. Then again, Officer Tyler Andersen had been looking for just that while praying that there would be none to find, that the driver he was seeking would have instead stopped somewhere along the way to weather the storm.

Over the edge he went and down the side of the embankment, battling the swirling snowflakes, the wind, and the biting cold. Looking at what remained of the ruts in the snow, it appeared the driver had been able to correct to avoid overturning, but that left the car going almost straight downhill, unable to stop.

A few difficult steps later, the flashing lights started to fade, blocked by the angle, the falling snow, or both. With only the flashlight to guide him, he continued trudging forward, following the twin ruts down toward the bottom.

Then he saw it, there, a short distance away, a glint of red, the gleam of a rear reflector. He took a few more steps forward and saw the ruts end as the rear of what appeared to be a dark Ford Taurus came into view. He felt sick as he saw it, hoping it wasn't a 1986 model while being almost certain that it was. Now, he could only hope that there would be no one in the driver's seat when he reached it.

The license plate was iced over, the number not clear, so he worked his way around to the driver's side where he flashed the light forward to see a big pine tree embedded several inches into the front of the car. The hood was crumpled, the damage severe. In addition, there was no horn blaring and no lights nor taillights were shining, so he suspected the battery was dead or damaged like the rest of the car. Between that, the snow filling in the tire tracks, and the depth of snow over the less damaged part of the hood, he also guessed the accident had occurred quite some time before.

Officer Andersen wiped the snow from the side rear window but could see nothing inside so he did the same with the driver's window as he moved forward. Shining the light in, he saw someone, looking broken and bloodied, where the airbag hadn't been able to do enough.

"Shit! Hold on Bryce! Just hold on!"

He tried but was unable to get the door open due to the snow piled around it or to damage—he wasn't sure which—so he quickly worked his way around to the passenger side. When it wouldn't open with a single tug, he used his nightstick to break the window and clear the glass. Leaning in and across, he felt for the pulse but there was none to find and the body was already cold. He shook his head sadly as he saw roses and a heart-shaped box of candy scattered over the passenger-side floorboard.

Fighting tears as he pulled out of the car, he let out a primal scream before clutching his coat tighter around himself and turning to start trudging back up the hill to call in to the station.

Then, he knew, he would have to make the somber drive to his sister's house....

***

Chapter 1--Friday, February 14, 2003--Junior Year

"Get it, get it, get it!"

"It's too far!"

"Oh, fuck!" said Alex Morgan, my best friend since 1st grade, as the swarming creatures on the screen overwhelmed and killed both of our characters before we could recover the magic orb, the current goal of our quest. "That's, what? The tenth time today? We're never gonna' finish this level. On Master difficulty, anyway."

I was shaking my head as I let the controller slide from my fingertips onto the coffee table. "Yeah, I'm sick of it. Normal's sounding a lot better by the second. Besides, I have to study now."

"You always have to study, wimp."

"You never have to study, smart aleck."

"Hey, it's practically my name! It's in my nature."

I sighed, looking over at the stack of work that I needed to do but didn't feel like doing. "Wanna root beer?"

"Got a beer?" Alex asked, looking hopeful.

"Yeah, but if my mom sees it missing, she'll kill us both and you'll never get to come over after school again."

"Yeah, that's true. Root beer's fine, I guess."

We were actually supposed to be studying the whole time, but we spent part of the afternoon each day playing on my PlayStation 2, battling monsters or racing cars or whatever. Afterward, we knocked out our homework, with Alex usually helping me with anything I didn't understand; it was much less often that I was able to return the favor.

I handed Alex a bottle and took a swig from mine. "So...have you given any thought to Valentine's Day?" I asked. "It's in just over a week."

It was Alex's turn to sigh, or rather, snort. "Grant, as usual, I couldn't care less about a stupid day that once commemorated the Christian saint of romantic love but which is now a big money-making scam."

"I know, Hallmark, Hershey's, and FTD," I groaned.

"Yeah, the card makers and the candy makers teamed up with the floral industry to milk money out of couples who think they might, just possibly, be right for each other. They rarely are, though, but the asshats get rich anyway from leading on poor but hopeful saps like us. No, it's just another lousy day."

I frowned, having heard this idea before over the last few Valentine's Days. In fact, I'd even contributed to part of the theory since I hated the day as much as or more than Alex did.

My first Valentine's Day crush had been when we were in the 7th grade, and that and each V-Day since had been equally unsuccessful. With each year that followed the first, I dreaded the coming Valentine's Day and its disaster, in whatever form it would take, and each year, it came in equally surprising and, to a teenager, seemingly spectacular fashion, leading me to increase my dislike for the day each year.

In fact, just days after last year's holiday of love, Alex and I found "I HATE VALENTINE'S DAY" t-shirts (with a fat little Cupid shot full of arrows below the text) on closeout at the mall, so we'd bought a pair, planning to wear them this year in protest of the mass-marketed stupidity.

This year, though, things were different and I was once more willingly part of that stupidity. I wouldn't be wearing the shirt due to the fact that this year there was a young lady named Vickie Selkirk in the picture; she'd moved to town with her parents the previous summer. This time, I had a huge crush on Vickie and I was determined to prove my prior dislike of the day to have been wrong.

"Well," I replied, "if Valentine's Day helps me win Vickie, then I'll never say another bad thing about it."

Of course, Alex knew about my rampant feelings for Vickie, too, and wasn't going to let me forget the fact.

"Grant, I don't think the day will give a flying fuck about your feelings toward it; it's not sentient, you know. As for Vickie, if you seriously like her, dummy, ask her to be your girlfriend."

Confidence wasn't exactly my forte, so I replied, "I will, but I need that little bit of extra help, you know, the hopes and expectations that Valentine's Day brings, so I can convince her. Otherwise, if I do it early, she'll say no and then I'm going to be upset and it will be worse than—"

"No, nothing can be worse than you moping about her every day. Do it, Grant! Ask her or shut the fuck up about her."

Alex was right, as usual; I needed to do it, but our disagreement was primarily over the timeline and my plan was already set. However, as the big day approached, just like in the years before with my previous crushes, I became more and more nervous. While I'd been speaking with Vickie more, almost daily, for the past couple of weeks, I'd never been able to force myself to tell her how I felt.

Each time I saw her, my heart and nerves felt as if they were bunched up in a jumble in my throat, making breathing difficult and coherent speech almost impossible. I just couldn't say the words that could transform my existence without that extra little impetus I'd become convinced that Valentine's Day provided. Therefore, I had to keep it secret until I could tell her.

That said, we attended a relatively small high school in a relatively small town, so most of us knew each other fairly well and I was fairly sure my interest in Vickie had gotten back to her. Alex, I knew, would never say a word, but I'd let it slip in front of my friend Pedro Cardona and a couple others once, and those guys gossip as bad as girls. Then there was the way I couldn't keep my eyes off of her; she had to have noticed, despite how hard I'd tried to keep it hidden from her.

I crossed my fingers, hoped, and even said a prayer that I could surprise her and that she'd be happy at my interest.

***

The big day finally came and I was as ready as a high school junior who spent weeks planning and worrying could be. While the main focus would be asking her on a date, I planned to improve my odds with the really pretty card, a box of candy, and a small bouquet of flowers I purchased (thereby contributing to all of Alex's much-hated money-making triumvirate).

We arrived in home room on Valentine's morning and had a couple of minutes before announcements and morning roll call. Alex looked around at me and nodded toward Vickie, giving me a frustrated look before sighing in exasperation and turning away.

Yes, it was time. I took a deep breath to calm myself and walked over to Vickie's desk. My heart was pounding, my mouth dry. Still, I had to keep going.

"Excuse me, Vickie, can I speak with you...ah, privately, for a moment?" I stammered.

Everyone around Vickie laughed with some probably seeing what was in my hands behind my back, but she gave them a fierce look before looking back at me and nodding. We stepped over in the corner of the classroom to speak quietly, with all eyes on us.

"What's up, Grant?" she breathed, as calmly and sweetly as a songbird.

Encouragement and confidence! Just what I needed. Her agreement to speak with me and that nice reply gave me a bit of each and I said, "Vickie, happy Valentine's Day. I hope you don't mind but I got you a card and some flowers and some candy." I pulled the flowers and the little red bag from behind my back and shoved it toward her just as Mrs. Leopold, our homeroom teacher, entered and walked to her desk.

There was a touch of sadness in Vickie's eyes as she looked at me. "Grant, why did you wait so long?"

"What do you mean? Today's Valentine's Day."

"True, but you have to make a move beforehand, more than just—"

"Vickie? Grant?" called Mrs. Leopold. "Time for roll call. Please be seated."

"—talking with a girl. You have to let her know before someone else snaps her up. Ah, yes, Mrs. Leopold!"

Looking back at me, she quickly added with quiet resignation, "Jerry Curtis asked me to be his girlfriend last night and I said 'yes.' I'm so sorry, Grant, I didn't know you liked me like this."

She returned to her seat leaving me, quite literally, holding the bag and wondering if maybe I'd kept my secret better than I thought.

Fortunately, Jerry was in another homeroom so he didn't get to laugh at me. Of course, most everyone else in our home room did.

"Silence!" called Mrs. Leopold, about as sternly as I'd ever heard her. She looked over at me with a look of understanding before giving me a nod and waving me toward my seat.

With almost all eyes in the class focused on me, I made my way toward my seat, with each step feeling like agony. I didn't cry, but it felt as if I might easily have done so as I reached my seat and slunk down, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Alex, wearing the "I HATE VALENTINE'S DAY" t-shirt, whispered, "Sorry, Grant," before turning back to face Mrs. Leopold."

"Yeah, me, too," I breathed.

***

Alex and I discreetly shared the candy while Mrs. Leopold did the roll call and the announcements played over the loudspeaker. The box and everything else went into Mrs. Leopold's trash can before we left homeroom. However, the laughter and derision followed me throughout much of the rest of the day as word of my all-too-public failure spread.

Reports of newly minted couples continued rolling in as the day progressed, too, with some between my classmates, some between members of other classes, and a number involving those from different classes. I tried not to think about them, though, lost in my own heartache over what had happened, and worse, what might have occurred if I'd only been smarter or played my cards more wisely.

That afternoon, I glumly went to my locker before heading to the school bus. I was digging inside for a book when I heard a group "Ahhh!" a short distance away. There were several of our female classmates looking on as Vickie and Jerry smooched in front of her locker. When she drew back, still smiling, he offered the crook of his arm, she slipped her hand through, and they made their way down the hall toward the exit and the parking lot.

As much as I hated it, I had to follow behind them moments later. Once outside, I stopped to watch as they crossed the lot and made for Jerry's pickup. He was a gentleman, opening her door for her and giving her a hand up before closing the door and going around to the driver's side. He glanced across the lot in my direction and smirked at me before getting in. Jerry and I were friends most days, but today, he was the victor instead and he knew it.

Having seen enough, I turned to the left toward the school buses, not wanting to know if Vickie stayed on her side or if she slid to the middle where he could put his arm around her or she could put her hands on him. I scampered onto my bus just before the door closed and it pulled away from the curb.

It was a lonely bus ride, that Valentine's Day of 2003, as I tried to think of anything other than Vickie being together with Jerry. I hated that my grades weren't quite good enough for my mom to allow me to get a real, paying job where I could earn money to get a car of my own. I wanted my own car so I could drive to school or on dates and, like Jerry, get a girl.

"No, not

a girl,

" I muttered to myself, "but Vickie." Only she would do.

Looking out the bus window, the thickening clouds and the possibly imminent snowfall were an almost perfect reflection of my dark day. As the bus pulled out of the school parking lot onto the main road, the only good thing going through my mind was that I wouldn't have to see them again until Monday.

***

Chapter 2--Saturday, February 14, 2004--Senior Year

The big thing about high school is that few things stay the same for long. Almost everything changes if given enough time.

Take, for instance, Vickie Selkirk, who'd accepted Jerry Curtis's devotion on Valentine's Day 2003 but then dumped him for Davie Waltrip ten days before the junior-senior prom. Of course, that didn't last long either, with Luke Dreyfus stealing her affections just a few weeks into the summer before I even heard that she'd broken off her relationship with Davie.

Knuckling down for the rest of the spring semester, my grades improved enough that my mom let me get a job at Hardee's, the fast food burger place, shortly before school was out, so that summer my afternoons and evenings were busy, leaving Alex and me less time to play video games and me less downtime to dwell on my awful luck. Of course, that meant I had to deal with grumpy customers, even grumpier co-workers, and that damn deep fryer. We closed at 10 except for Friday and Saturday, when Mr. Johansen, the franchise owner, required us to stay open until 11.

It was 9:55 on a Thursday in early August when Alex came running in the door. Corrie Thompson, the grump at the register, rolled her eyes and said, "Welcome to Hardee's. May I take your order?"

Corrie and Alex hadn't gotten along in years, with Corrie not too bright, always grumpy, and usually sarcastic, and Alex, absolutely brilliant but perpetually dark, pessimistic, and often even more sarcastic, which sometimes made me wonder if they wouldn't be a perfect match. Alex ignored her, as usual, and came over to where I was collecting the trash.

"Grant, guess what happened!"

"Alex, I've been here since 1 and I'm tired. Just tell me, okay?"

That drew a frown. "Grant, I'm trying to help you, my friend, but I'll leave if you want to be a grump about it." Alex had heard my speech about grumps at my workplace on more than one occasion.

I rolled my eyes similar to Corrie, but made sure I was making progress on the trash since Neville, the shift manager, was looking my way. "Okay, I give. What?"

Alex sighed in frustration. "Okay. You still have that thing for Vickie Selkirk." This, I knew, wasn't a question; Alex knew me that well. "Well, you still have a chance if you act quickly. She broke up with Luke tonight at the skating rink after she saw him kiss Lori Peltree. Call her, commiserate, and ask her out."

"Get out of here!" I exclaimed, barely squelching the "TF" that would have gotten me fired for sure if Neville had heard it.

"Yes, please do!" called Corrie with a smirk as she glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Corrie! Customer!" barked Neville, stabbing a finger at the person who was just walking up before he locked the doors. "Grant, trash! You," he said, frowning at Alex, "if you're not buying, you're not staying."

"Yes, sir," I called, moving a little faster on the collection and cleanup process. Alex ignored Neville, so I talked as I worked. "I don't know, Alex. School starts next week and I can see her then."

From the corner of my eye, I saw that Alex looked livid. "Listen, asshole, didn't you learn anything? If you like her like you've been saying for, what—the last nine months? People have babies that quick, you know?—and want your shot, you call her now before someone else steals her out from under you. Again. If you don't, or won't, just shut the fuck up about her. I'm sick of it and don't want to hear it anymore."

Alex turned angrily and left, leading Corrie the bitch to stick her tongue out at me and Neville the bastard looking to make sure I wasn't the one who'd let the bad words fly so he could fire me.

Somehow, I survived the last few minutes of the shift with my job intact.

When your best friend gives you the what-for and makes you open your eyes, it hurts but sometimes it helps, too. I thought about it the whole bike ride home, so instead of calling Alex when I got home, I looked up Vickie's number and dialed with unsteady fingers, not sure what I was going to say.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Mrs. Selkirk? Hi, this is Grant Norwell. May I speak to Vickie?"

"Grant, it's nearly 10:30. Why don't you call at a more reasonable hour tomorrow?"

"I just got home from work, Ma'am, and I don't get off until 11:15 tomorrow night. Please?"

Maybe it was the please, maybe that I had a job, or maybe the even-later time I might call the next night, but for some reason she took pity on me. "Hold on. Vic-kie! Phone!"

She answered a moment later. "Mom, got it! Hang up, please! Hello, this is Vickie."

"Ahem, hi, Vickie. It's Grant. Grant Norwell? How are you?"

"Oh, hi, Grant. This is a surprise."

"Yeah, I...ah, I heard what happened with Luke tonight...and, I wanted to say I'm sorry for you. He shouldn't have treated you that way."