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Her
by The Common Loon

This is the best month of my life, thought Eric as he crossed out another day on his school calendar, leaving only seven more until graduation. High school had been hell - there was no getting around it - for so many reasons, but now it was almost over and he would be moving across the country to go to college in a few short months. Of all the things he had to look forward to, Eric relished the most the chance to make a new life with new friends in a new place, and leave his old self far behind. His anxieties, personality quirks, and occasional unpopularity would not be making the trip out east with him, he decided, and he had determined to make the last weeks of school he had left as memorable as possible.

Eric wasn't the captain of the football team, and he wasn't an academic all-star. Such people had their own circles of friends handed down to them from on high by the gods of high-school society. For Eric, never a star athlete despite an in-shape frame and never an A student despite a creative streak a mile wide that extended to music and writing, holding on to the several close friends he had became good enough for him, for the time being. The best he could manage was second-string junior varsity basketball and an infrequent honorable mention on the dean's list. Life had dealt him some good cards and some difficult ones, he decided. But college was going to change all that.

Eric allowed himself one last fantasy of walking through an ivy quadrangle with a co-ed on each arm before he looked away from the calendar magneted to his locker. Just then, Becky - the short, too-perky flautist about whom he had heard so many disparaging rumors that he wished he hadn't - bounded up to him with a clipboard in her hand. Before he could open his mouth to find an excuse not to talk to her, she launched into what was obviously a well-rehearsed sales pitch.

"Eric, how would you like to say congratulations and best wishes to a graduating senior by buying a 'Con-grads-o-gram?'" He was a little surprised she had known his name, and he waited several awkward seconds, during which she stared into his face expectantly with an obsequious smile, before answering.

"How much are they?" He sighed. He had wanted to buy one of those for a few of his friends for a while, but he couldn't let Bloussant Becky - a nickname he really wished he hadn't heard - win this easily.

Her smile broadened, sensing an easy sale nonetheless. "The price list is right here. Can I give you an order form?" She gushed, offering forth a sheet from her clipboard as if to deprive him of any choice otherwise.

"Sure, I guess so." He took it from her, and she bounced gleefully on her toes thinking about the extra credit she'd receive for her already-met quota. Her dirty brown curly hair sprung off her shoulders as she thanked Eric and turned to leave, making a beeline directly across the crowded hallway to another poor mark loading up his bookbag at his locker. Eric shook his head, folded and stuffed the order form into his back pocket, and closed his rusty-hinged locker for what he estimated would be the seventh-to-last time.

He made his way for the closest exit, but would not get far before he felt a rough hand clasp onto his left shoulder. He swirled his head around to the left to find out who it might be, but seeing nothing but a blank row of lockers he sagged, defeated once again. "Hey, Adam," he droned mockingly.

"Eric, man," came the loud voice from Eric's right. "How come you're leavin' so soon?" Eric turned his head quizzically but wearily to convey to Adam that he just didn't want to be in school any longer. It didn't work. "The team's practicing tonight. You remember the big game against Tech High next week, right?"

Eric sighed glumly. Basketball, once a fun and entertaining diversion from the drudgery of the rest of his life, had lost its appeal since he was admitted to college a month ago. Maybe it was because he knew that whatever he did on the court - not that he played more than two minutes a game - just didn't matter anymore. But one image of Coach Riley delivering a spittle-filled speech in his face about committment and discipline convinced him that going to practice was, indeed, the lesser of two evils. "Fine," he said, his shoulders falling further still. "I'll catch up with you." Adam released his shoulder, and Eric's longtime friend trotted purposefully away in the direction of the locker rooms. Eric stared for a brief minute through an open classroom door and out its window at freedom before he trudged to the locker room himself.

The two sat with their elbows on their bare knees on the bench, watching the varsity players do a tip drill. At least, that was was it looked like they were watching. In reality, Eric was watching the empty bleachers while Adam watched the rehearsing cheerleading squad on the other sideline. He nudged Eric's arm, breaking his reverie. "Which one?" Adam asked.

"Which one, what?" Eric said.

"You blind?" Adam feigned outrage. "Which one of them?" He pointed at the varsity cheerleading squad, whose backs were turned to the court, displaying nothing more than a sequence of tank tops, pleated skirts, and tan pantyhose.

Eric shrugged, saying nothing. Adam volunteered, "I'd take third from the left. Of course, I'm a leg man and so help me, those are some nice ones. Long and fit," he droned.

Eric glanced in the general direction of the cheerleaders, his eyes focusing instead on the floor in front of him. "Yeah," he said disinterestedly.

"Man, what's with you?" Adam had noticed his lack of enthusiasm, and Eric met his gaze defiantly. "You can't still be - "

"Well, I am," declared Eric. "You don't even know what it's like."

"What? To have a crush on a girl and not have the courage to talk to her? You're right, I don't know what that's like, Eric. I'm an alpha male, man." Adam turned to look at the cheerleaders again. "Besides, who cares if you got the hots for someone else? Does that mean you can't appreciate other hot bodies when the situation arises?"

"I think your situation is arising enough for us both," Eric said, and laughed grimly.

Adam shifted in his seat. "All I'm saying," he began defensively, "is that you've got to loosen up a bit. This is high school, man, not some..."

"You two!" Roared a voice from across the court. It was unmistakably Coach Riley. "Break up your little sewing circle, get out here, and shoot some foul shots, ladies!"

Eric dropped his head into his hands for a second, then plodded slowly to the free-throw line with Adam waiting behind him. He missed his first shot and as he walked back to the line he caught Adam's raised eyebrows and finger pointing to the cheerleaders' sideline where they stood in a row, leaning over to touch their toes as they warmed up. Eric sighed heavily, retrieved his errant shot, and went on to make only five of twenty during practice before giving up and going home.

"Seven more days... seven more days..." Eric repeated to himself quietly as he undressed for bed that night. As he tossed his rumpled jeans into the laundry hamper a red piece of paper fell out of the back pocket. For a brief second he couldn't remember what it was, but as he picked it up and unfolded it he remembered the encounter with Back-seat Becky - why'd he listen to those marching band guys again? - and put the order form on his bed. In a t-shirt and boxers he sat on the corner of the bed and perused the form, thinking about who in his class he would possibly want to "con-grad-ulate." He had only one name in mind - but he dared not send anything to her. Still, the image of her face ran through his mind as he read on to the gift possibilities.

A greeting card was two dollars. A card and a mortarboard-shaped cookie were four dollars. A card and a carnation were seven dollars. That would be way too forward for my fictional gift, he decided. A card and a balloon were six dollars.

Eric's eyes froze on the sentence. His heart quickened unconsciously as he read on to find that additional flowers were five dollars each, and additional balloons three dollars each. He quickly reached over to his desk and retrieved a pen, not taking his eyes off the order form in case those sweet words disappeared from the paper.

He wrote her name in shaky handwriting in the recipient blank. He put the pen to his lower lip and gazed at the ceiling for several seconds before writing the perfect message for the card:

"Congrats, you finally made it through.
A little love from me to you.
Signed, your secret admirer."

There was no need to put his own name on the form - it would defeat the purpose. He checked the "card and balloon" box and in the designated blank wrote a three for extra balloons. He raced to his bedstand to retrieve his wallet in an effort to avoid second guesses and paper-clipped a ten- and a five-dollar bill to the order form. He chuckled at - oh, spare me - Braless Becky's signature in the salesperson blank at the bottom of the form, then folded the form in thirds and put it in his backpack. The deed was done - before they graduated, the ultimate "she" would know of his infatuation.

Eric leapt under the covers of his bed and found sleep that night very difficult. He awoke at three in the morning after an image of her bounding toward him with open arms and two helium balloons in each hand, her thick blonde hair flowing behind her and her tight jeans riding up impossibly high, jarred him from his bed with a heart like a jackhammer and boxers like a circus tent. He stumbled down the hallway and into the bathroom wearily, minutes later emerging with a fatigued smile to stumble back to his bed.

He was greeted the next morning by a large sign at the front door of the school proclaiming that it was the "last day!" to order con-grad-o-grams. He sheepishly remembered the order form in his backpack, and blushed bright red uncontrollably. He ducked into the nearest bathroom to compose himself and check his reflection in the nearest mirror. He splashed cold water on his face and returned to the busy hallway, already late for first-period gym.

He waited all day until the last possible minute. As the final bell rang to dismiss the school, he grabbed his backpack from his locker confidently before feeling that same big hand on his left shoulder. Suspecting a ploy, Eric looked right immediately, but he was outdone again. Adam laughed heartily from his left.

"Man, that's three times in a row! Remind me never to take you to Vegas," Adam chortled. "What're you up to this fine Friday night?"

Eric shrugged, avoiding eye contact with his friend. It wasn't that he was anti-social; he just knew what Adam considered to be a fun Friday night.

"I'm headed out to that eighteen-plus party over at the Starlight," Adam gushed predictably. "They're having a wild one tonight. It's gonna be like Mardi Gras all night! You in?"

Eric sighed. He looked into Adam's face and expected what he saw. But before he could answer, the clip-clop of high heels behind Eric grew closer until...

"Hey you! Got that order form ready?" Eric winced and turned around to see Boy-crazy Becky. "It's the last day, you know."

Eric felt Adam's grip on his shoulder tighten as he opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. He shook his head, and the flautist's smile fell a notch. "Fine," she stated, and in a flash was across the busy hallway to the next locker.

But nothing escaped Adam's attention. "Order form?" He said quizzically. "You sending me a graduation present or something?"

"Forget it," Eric said under his breath. "It was a stupid idea." He could feel his ears begin to redden again.

"Aww, that's too bad," Adam said conspiratorially. "I was hoping to get a nice flower, or maybe a... balloon or something."

Now Eric was blushing full-faced, and wanted to whirl around and match his fist with his friend's jaw. Instead, he grit his teeth and smiled. "Too bad, indeed. I guess nobody loves you," he lamented mockingly. But his blush gave him away.

"Oh, I see what's going on here," Adam laughed. "Man, you really should grow a pair. Seriously. Either talk to her, or forget about her. I know - come on, let's hit Starlight tonight. I promise, it'll be wild. You won't believe the feminines they've got there on Friday nights. It's like an estro-fest," he suggested with that same raised-eyebrow stare he always used to emphasize such a point.

Eric knew there was no way out of this one, and didn't feel like fighting for one. He reluctantly nodded his head, and Adam skipped off down the hallway, looking with a knowing smile over his shoulder at Eric as he did. Eric closed his locker and headed down the hallway.

As he passed the band room he caught out of the corner of his eye a cardboard box with a slit and the words "Order forms" on the top. In a moment of courage he boldly took his backpack off his shoulder, unzipped it quickly, and produced the folded order form that would bring him and her together at last. He held it above the box with a trembling hand, then thought better of it and with an unnecessary flourish emphasizing how foolish an idea it was, tossed it into the nearest garbage bin and marched away. He was halfway to the parking lot before he realized what an expensive decision that had been, and didn't leave the school until he ran back, dug through the trash can, and retrieved the fifteen dollars he had attached to the form.

At home, Eric shucked his ratty baseball shirt and jeans and donned an untucked collared shirt and loose cargo pants. Adam would call any minute and want to have a fast-food dinner before going to the club. Eric shuddered at the thought of eating another greasy burger, but resigned himself to his fate as he sat down on his bed to tie his shoes. As he looked around his messy room, his gaze briefly fixed on his nightstand. He knotted his right shoe, then purposefully reached for the nightstand phone, hesitated, then flung open the nightstand drawer. He rummaged around in a plastic bag before producing five uninflated balloons - two reds, two pinks, and a baby blue, all sixteen-inch and the best brand around. He placed them next to his alarm clock and fingered each one, feeling the soft latex between his fingers, as he stuffed them into the cargo pocket of his pants. This had become a ritual for Eric since he first started going to clubs, and his heart quickened as the phone rang and Adam confirmed that he was waiting in the driveway. Eric took a deep breath before turning out all his lights and heading out the door.

The windows of the club were darkly tinted, but Eric could still see as he walked through their parking lot to the front door that the club staff had beaten him to the punch. "Welcome to Mardi Gras!" Said the banner above the door, which was framed by two bunches of shiny twelve-inch helium balloons with long cylindrical necks swaying in the evening breeze. Through every darkened window Eric could faintly make out the silhouettes of more of the same, but these balloons were not swaying - they were being violently tugged and jerked around by their ribbons by unseen hands. Eric knew what this all meant. It wasn't that he was unprepared for it - in fact he had come to expect it from this club after several previous visits - but his heart leapt into his throat anyway. Adam dropped his unnecessary orange sunglasses to the end of his nose and looked at Eric as they walked in. "You'll have a lotta fun with this one tonight, man. They're all over the place," he said with a wink. "Know what I mean?"

Adam was a good friend, but he definitely had too big a mouth, Eric decided as he handed the bouncer his driver's license.

Inside, the dance floor was a sea of green, gold, and purple balloons, all percolating at the end of their ribbons as their owners danced frenetically to the throbbing sounds of rap music coming out of the large speaker array that bordered the deejay's platform at one end. More clusters of larger Mardi-Gras balloons floated around the perimeter of the room by the windows, and there was a huge spiral arch that nearly reached up to the twenty-foot ceiling. As he watched the dancers, Eric's first thought went to where they all were getting these balloons, but instantly that thought went away. "Bienvenue a Mardi Gras!" exulted a young, scantily-clad black-haired woman just inside the entrance with dozens of strands of foil beads around her neck. "This balloon is your ticket for tonight's raffle," she continued, shoving a purple ribbon into Eric's hand with a tight balloon in its matching purple glory at the other end. "Make sure it survives until the drawing, and you'll have a chance to win a trip to the Big Easy," she droned in a less-exuberant saleswoman voice very similar to the one Breastless Becky - dammit! - had used the day before. Eric shrugged as he saw Adam was being similarly accosted, and they took their balloons to a table alongside the dance floor.

Before long Adam was holding his balloon by its knot and bouncing it back and forth onto his lap as he watched the dancing co-eds on the floor. Eric tried to watch them too, but his eyes were fixed instead on Adam's balloon which rattled around roughly, making faint hollow springing noises as it rebounded off Adam's jeans. Eric felt his grip on his balloon's ribbon tighten and a bead of sweat run down his arm. Adam caught Eric's stare too late, and with a sly grin took the balloon in both his hands and sunk in his fingers. The balloon squealed in pain and Eric stood up hastily to confront Adam. Adam released his death grip and instead placed the balloon between his knees and squeezed. The neck of the balloon swelled upwards toward Adam's face and Eric would have no more.

"Stop that," he said to Adam three inches from him face, swearing under his breath. Adam again released the balloon from his grasp and let it float back to the end of its ribbon three feet above.

"You are so easy," Adam laughed. "Man, way too easy."

Eric was bright red again and stormed away to the bar, coming back after a long wait in line with two Grenadine-and-Cokes. He set one down in front of Adam. "Here. Maybe you can keep busy with this instead."

Adam laughed, again. "Nah, man, I'd rather keep busy with that," he said proudly as he indicated with a flip of his head a lithe, unescorted brunette that had just sat down at the table behind him. She, too, held her balloon close and wobbled it to and fro absent-mindedly as she studied the dance floor. Before Eric could say a word, Adam was out of his chair and into the chair opposite her, leaning forward across her table and telling her something Eric couldn't hear, but didn't really need to.

Instead, Eric's mind wandered as he, too, searched the dance floor for a friendly face. All he found was an endless array of arms and girls' hair flying, and balloons bounding around their heads. It was mesmerizing but not very interesting. That is, until he saw it.

There she was. He noticed a shock of blonde hair first, then the black dress underneath it surrounding more of her fair skin than he would have liked. When she turned around and he saw her unmistakable sympathetic face and sparkling eyes, he instinctively looked away. She was here! And so was he!

He gulped a healthy mouthful of his soda to ease his dry throat. He would have to thank Adam later for bringing him here. This was the night for him. This would be the night it all came together. In an instant all the order-form cowardice was forgotten, all the pleasant dreams about to become a reality. He straightened his already-straight hair with his non-balloon hand and patted himself down, smoothing out his shirt and pants. His hands stopped at the cargo pocket of his pants when he felt the springy mass of uninflated balloons inside. A smirk creased his face as he enjoyed a quick fantasy he'd enjoyed so many times before, then took three steps toward the dance floor where she was shaking that beautiful body of hers.

Three steps would be all he took. Just as he reached the edge of the dance floor, she looked exactly in his direction and caught his stare, smiling. He smiled sheepishly and was about to keep going when all at once his view of her was blocked by the figure of another dancing reveler. This one had apparently had something to drink, despite his being obviously underage, and to Eric's horror, took the one and only "her" into his arms and continued to dance.

Eric's sheepish smile disappeared and his face burned. Defeated, he plodded back to his chair and sat down brusquely. Anger and self-pity boiled in his veins, and he needed an outlet. He stared at his glass of coke and downed the rest of it in one swallow. Still not satisfied, he took the next nearest object into his grasp - his shiny crystal-purple helium balloon. With a frustrated grimace on his face he gripped the bulb of the balloon on both sides and slowly sunk his shaking fingers into it. It squeaked and squealed, attracting nervous attention from nearby tables - especially the girls at the nearby tables, for some reason. His grip tightened, making larger and larger rounded dents in the tight rubber, until finally the balloon gave up and disappeared with a hollow cracking POP! A short, slender Asian girl standing beside him who had been facing the other way jumped suddenly and shrieked at the sound, then laughed when she realized what everyone else had been staring at. Breathing heavily and just now noticing the attention he had attracted, Eric sat back down with his head in his hands, a position in which he would spend the next twenty minutes.

After this time, Adam finally returned to the table where his coke was now watered down with melted ice. "Dude, be nice to your poor balloon. You could've won that trip!" He chided cheerfully, far too cheerfully for Eric. "What's gotten into you?"

But Eric was in no mood to discuss matters. Instead he took the purple ribbon in his hand, broken shreds of balloon still attached to the end, looped it around his neck, and pretended to hang himself with it. Adam got the message, or at least thought he did. "Ready to go, eh?" He said cluelessly. "I'll be ready too, as soon as they do this -"

And "this" was already under way. "Ladies and gentlemen, femmes et gentlehommes," thundered a voice through the deejay's speaker set. "May I have your attention please for tonight's big Mardi Gras grand-prize drawing. I need everyone out on the dance floor, now!" Adam jumped and ran out to the floor. Eric, knowing his chance to win had disappeared with his balloon, was content to watch from the sidelines like the good bench player he was.

The deejay, satisfied that everyone was indeed on the dance floor, continued. "Each of you have a balloon in your hand," he thundered. "Here's what we're going to do. Inside each balloon is a ping-pong ball - "

At this, the sounds of squealing latex and several sudden BANGs rung out across the crowded dance floor. Eric sat up in his seat to see what would happen next, and searched the dance floor until at last he found her again. Her right hand held the ribbon of a gleaming green helium balloon, and as her boyfriend grabbed his gold balloon and loudly ripped it to shreds her balloon jumped at the end of its ribbon as she shielded her ears. Eric was now even more interested. Now that he knew she was taken, as dismaying as it was, he knew he could ogle her with no consequences to their nonexistent future together.

"Hold on, folks - " it was the deejay again. "I'm not finished. Here's what we're going to do. On the count of three - wait for my count, now, everyone let go of their balloon." A confused murmur arose over the floor. "That's right," announced the deejay. "Everyone let go of their balloon on the count of three. Ready?"

Eric was on the edge of his seat watching her every move.

"One, two..." the deejay counted. "Two and a half! Two and three-quarters! Th--is dance is brought to you by Pepsi and Rave 102.6 FM!" A few in the crowd laughed. "Three!"

Suddenly the canopy of balloons over the dance floor lifted and each one flew up towards the ceiling. As soon as the first one hit the ceiling the game became obvious. It popped with a loud BANG, and as the others flew upwards and did too, a thunderous roar of booming balloons filled the air and hundreds of ping-pong balls began to cascade down from the sharp-point-covered ceiling. Dancers screamed in delight as they clamored for the falling balls. In the middle of it all, there she was, and there was her boyfriend, his arms tightly clasped around her. Eric's stomach churned at the sight.

"Okay, people," said the deejay when the crowd had marginally settled down. "Does everyone have a ping-pong ball?"

After a second it dawned on Eric, and he checked the floor underneath his chair. Sure enough, there was a ping-pong ball with the number 372 on it. He hadn't noticed it in his frustration, but he was in no mood to keep it now. Instead he gripped it tightly in his fist, then flung it onto the dance floor. Disgusted by the entire evening, he stormed out the front door. He was met by the lightly-dressed young lass who had given him his balloon earlier. "Mon dieu!" She said. "You're leaving? You could win something!" Eric glared into her - actually, they were stunning eyes! - but turned and walked out into the parking lot anyway. He would wait for Adam while sitting on the hood of his car.

Adam emerged after the drawing with the lanky brunette he had been chatting up at his side. She had a larger balloon, obviously one of the decorations, in her hand. "Guess what? I won!" Adam gushed. "I got a pass for a free lunch here at Starlight! How cool is that?"

Eric was more than underwhelmed. He raised his disgusted stare to meet Adam's, and said nothing.

"Aw, you're just jealous," Adam laughed. "Come on, Maria here wants to go mini-golfing tonight. Let's get going." Adam's girl giggled vapidly.

"Take me home," Eric said softly.

Adam blinked at Eric for a second, then shrugged. "Whatever. Come on, baby doll," he said to Maria. "Get your big balloons into my car." They rode in silence, only broken by Adam's occasional glance in the rear-view mirror at the shapely Maria, who laughed as she held her sixteen-inch balloon in the lap of her red dress. Eric was never more glad to return to his bedroom and go to sleep.

Eric was almost thankful for Monday when it finally came. School would give him something to think about besides his miserable love life and the fact that his dream girl belonged to someone else. He worked out much of his pent-up frustration wrestling in first-period gym - he went undefeated on the day - and was feeling much better during sixth-period history until he heard a knock at the classroom door.

The whole class turned and started to buzz with excitement as they saw who - or rather, what - was waiting at the door. "Con-grad-o-grams!" announced the familiar voice of Beejay Becky, which Eric recognized before he even turned to see. But when he did turn to look, his jaw dropped at the sight of Becky with a paper folder full of cards, one hand holding a half-dozen carnations, and the other holding a dozen helium balloons in the school colors of red and gold. Each twelve-inch balloon had been inflated to fourteen down its neck and swayed lazily in the breeze of the hallway. The large bouquet made deep, squeaky bumping sounds as Becky carelessly pulled it through the doorway behind her and began to distribute the greetings to the class.

Being at the end of the alphabet, Eric had to wait a long time before he saw whether he would get any greetings or not. To his surprise, there were still a half-dozen balloons left in Becky's grasp when she announced his name. Eric stepped forward and Becky handed him a red greeting card. "Here you go," she said brightly. "And these are yours too." She held the ribbons of all six remaining balloons toward his chest, and with a bewildered smile Eric took them all. This was met with catcalls from a few of his classmates, and with a familiar heat around his ears Eric tied his ribbons to his chair and sat back down to read his card. His mind raced furiously to decide who had sent him all these balloons...

"Congratulations on your special day.
Take these balloons with you to light your way.
Before you leave forever, finally,
Why don't you share your gift a while with me?
Love, you know who."

His heart racing, Eric read the card five times before he took his eyes off the paper. He was reading it a sixth when BANG! a sudden noise rang out and shreds of red flew in front of his face. He jumped, then turned around in his seat to see his smiling classmate Todd with a sharpened pencil in his hand.

Eric stuck out his tongue at Todd. "You're just jealous," he gloated. This was indeed the start of something big, he decided. He looked back at the card. It had definitely been written by a girl, he decided by the handwriting. And no guy would be caught writing sappy poetry, he thought before recalling the message he had intended to send her in his own greeting card. "Share your gift with me..." he repeated softly to himself several times as the bell rang and his classmates ran out of the room, several of them tugging balloons behind them as they did.

The hallway was soon filled with the chaos that only helium balloons can cause. Squeaking and squealing rang out, and it seemed as if everyone had received a balloon today. Every thirty seconds or so one of them succumbed and popped with a BANG! that echoed off the concrete-block walls and caused the hallway to hush momentarily before resuming its previous clamor. After the din had settled down a bit but the hall was still filled with bouncing balloons and occasional harsh popping sounds, Eric took his bouquet of the five balloons he had left and strode confidently to his locker.

This time, Adam was already waiting there for him. His eyes widened as he saw the balloons Eric was towing behind him.

"Geez, Eric, I knew you liked these things, but..." Adam laughed. "You get these for yourself or something?"

This time Eric didn't notice the jest. "You kidding?" He smiled broadly. "Read this," he said as he thrust the greeting card into Adam's stomach.

Adam's lips moved as he quickly read the card twice. He inhaled sharply, then whistled as he exhaled. "Dude, is this from - "

"I don't know!" Eric confessed. "It just says you-know-who!"

"I can read," Adam retorted, still shocked. "I didn't ask you what it said, I asked who it was from!"

"I have to go ask her now," Eric proclaimed. "I have to know."

"Yeah," Adam began, "but what if it wasn't her? You'll look like a weird stalker or something."

"But what if it was, Adam?" Eric was suddenly emboldened. "What if it was? This is the opening I've been waiting for! I did see her in the club last Friday, and I know she saw me." Eric's mind was racing and his pulse quickening.

"I don't know, man. 'Share your gift?' Would she write something like that?"

"I don't know, Adam, but you know who would? I would," Eric said. "This is exactly like something I would write to her if I - well - "

"If you were more of a man?"

"If I didn't care what she thought of me."

"Well, whoever wrote this to you obviously cares what you think of them," Adam said. "How do you know they're not stalking you?"

"Girls don't stalk guys," Eric said matter-of-factly. "They long for us. They pine for us." Now Adam was shaking his head. "They ask us to come and share our gifts with them."

Adam smiled. "You're reading way too much into this."

"And what if I'm not?" Eric turned on his heel away from his locker. "I can't stand around arguing with you all day. I've got to go find out for myself." He ran down the hallway trailing his five balloons behind him, and Adam grinned from ear to ear as he watched Eric disappear into the crowds down the hall.

After months of fact-finding, Eric had found out exactly which locker was hers. He stood halfway down the hall from it, feeling as awkward as any guy might leaning against a wall with a large bouquet of balloons in his hand. Fifteen minutes passed and the hallway emptied out until nothing but white linoleum and a few red and gold shards of savaged balloons stared back at him from the floor. He had missed her.

With another dreary basketball practice ahead of him and five now-insulting balloons bobbing at his wrist, Eric heaved a heavy sigh, then decided he couldn't possibly walk into the guys' locker room with five brightly colored balloons tied to his arm. He cast a furtive glance down the hallway in each direction and, it being clear, proceeded to take one of the gold-colored balloons between his fingertips and place it on the floor. He lifted his left foot and rested his Doc Martens on the balloon, which squished out underneath his step and began to emit high-pitched squealing sounds. He resolved to pop all five of these silly balloons before anyone else could see him with them. He tensed up his thigh muscles to step solidly when he heard footsteps behind him and a soft voice.

"Now, what'd it ever do to you?" The voice said.

Eric froze, caught in an inexplicable situation. He stood up straight reflexively, for the moment not realizing the balloon was still under foot. BLAM! It popped with a resounding loud noise, sending gold fragments of rubber flying across the hall. Both he and his accoster jumped simultaneously. He turned to face the one person he hadn't expected, the one he dared not hope for.

It was her.

"That poor balloon," she sighed, flipping her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her back.

Eric took a second to register the sight he saw. She was wearing her soccer uniform - a shiny gold jersey which hung loosely around all but her tantalizing chest, distorting the top half of her number 17, tucked into a pair of red satined shorts which only hid the top half of her thighs, leaving the rest of her buttery smooth tanned legs and tennis shoes for the enjoyment of all. Her deep green eyes darted back and forth between Eric's face and the still-imposing bouquet of four balloons he was left with. Her thin, lipstick-less lips formed into a smirk as her eyes darted to a bouquet of two balloons - a red and a gold - in her own hand.

Eric was speechless. He'd waited for months for this moment and now that it was here, he had no idea what to say.

Luckily, she spoke first. "That's quite a bouquet of balloons you've got there," she said. She pulled her own down to hold their knots between her fingers. Hers were obviously the same brand, size, and color as Eric's, but these were pitifully underinflated and cloudy, and already they began to lose their lift. "Mine are pathetic," she pouted to herself.

"Nonsense," Eric finally said after an awkward pause. "Those are nice."

She looked up from her balloons into Eric's eyes. He squirmed, realizing what he had just said may have been indelicate. Instead, her accusing stare turned into a sympathetic grin. "Well, I think yours are much nicer. I don't suppose you'd trade?"

In that instant Eric knew she had sent him his balloons. She was the one that had wanted him to share his gift... without thinking, he enthusiastically - maybe too much so - offered her the four remaining balloons. "Hey," he said, his voice cracking to his embarrassment. "What am I going to do with them?" He smiled and bit his tongue, determined never to open his mouth again in her presence. What was he saying in front of her?

But she didn't notice. Instead she took his four balloons and tied them to the handle of her locker. She bounced - and everything about her bounced so delicately - up to Eric, looking up at him in appreciation for the balloons. After another awkward few seconds, Eric took the hint and introduced himself.

"Hey Eric," she lilted back. "You look kinda familiar. Have I seen you somewhere? You know, somewhere besides this school?"

"I'm not sure," he lied. "Where else have you been?"

"I know," she realized. "I saw you at Starlight." He started to shake his head, but she just smiled bigger, her soft cheek dimpling on each side. "Yeah, that's what it was."

Eric was blushing yet again. "You're probably right," he allowed. "I go there once in a while with my crazy friend."

"Yeah, I knew it," she laughed. Then she caught herself. "Where are my manners? I'm Jill, by the way."

"I know," Eric said thoughtlessly, then tried to cover. "I mean, I know I've seen you around too, Jill. Nice to meet you."

"Say," Jill started. "Were you at Starlight last Friday? I won a trip!"

"No!" Eric gasped over-dramatically. "You won that trip to New Orleans?"

Jill giggled. "Yep, two tickets. It's going to be so fun. I'm going to go in July. Did you win anything?"

"Well," Eric said sheepishly. "Not exactly. I didn't even have a raffle ticket."

"Aww, that's too bad. My boyfriend didn't win either, and he had a whole handful of those ping-pong balls. He was so mad," Jill laughed.

Suddenly Eric remembered why he had been so mad that Friday. Her boyfriend. There's nothing like finally meeting the girl of your dreams and within five minutes finding out that yes, she was someone else's. His heart sank all over again. But that still didn't explain the gift...

"Anyway," Eric said hurriedly. "I've got practice, so I should... you know..."

"Practice? You play basketball or something?" Jill asked. "I don't think I've seen you on the court."

"Well..." Eric looked at his shoes. "I don't get much playing time."

Jill cocked her head sympathetically. "That's too bad. Well, good luck all the same. I'll see you around, Eric."

"Yeah, sure Jill. Enjoy those balloons."

"I will," Jill chirped. As Eric turned and walked away, after several seconds he could hear the sounds of squeaking rubber behind him, the sounds of a balloon in peril. A sudden, muffled BANG made his heart skip a beat as he whirled around, expecting that she was already disposing of the gift he had so longed to give her.

Instead, the four balloons he had given her were still tied to her locker, and one of her soft, wrinkled balloons was now in pieces on the floor. She sank her short fingernails into the other - the red one - and Eric took a few steps back toward her.

"What'd it ever do to you?" He asked teasingly. She looked back at him with a broad, mischievous smile and squeezed. With a final squeal and POP the tired-looking red balloon disappeared. "I hope you treat mine better," he said.

"Don't worry," she said. "It's not about the balloons, it's about who they came from. These were from my ex. That must be why they were so small and wrinkled." She raised one eyebrow jokingly, and untied Eric's balloons from her locker. "No, balloons this pretty you have to hang on to."

"You're right about that," Eric agreed. In another thoughtless moment, his mind raced ahead to: "Say, are you coming to the Tech High game this Thursday?"

"I wasn't planning on it," Jill admitted.

"Would you come if I got you a first-row reserved seat?"

"You'd do that for me?" Jill beamed. "In that case..."

"Great - I'll get you the ticket tomorrow. Can I just find you here after school?"

"Actually, I've got soccer practice after school; can I find you after you're done with ball today?"

"Sure, that's great!" Eric gushed. "I'll be in the gym until five."

"I'm done at 4:30. See you then," Jill said, then turned to open her locker again, her four balloons slipping out of her grasp as she did so and spilling onto the acoustic-tiled ceiling above her to dangle their ribbons down. She looked up at them and laughed as Eric walked away with a new spring in his step.

Eric found Adam in his usual spot on the bench on the sideline as he came into the gym.

"What's up, man? You're sitting up a little straighter than usual," Adam began. "And where are your little... you know, toys?"

"It was her," Eric said without shifting his gaze from the nothingness ahead of him into which he stared.

"No kidding!"

"No kidding. It was her. I gave them all to her."

"You mean, you actually talked to her?"

"Something like that."

"This is huge, man. Huge. What did she say?"

"Nothing much. She has a boyfriend, you know."

"She does?"

"Yeah, but get this - I'm going to get her a courtside seat for the Tech game."

"Why would you do that, man? Didn't you just say she had - "

"I can't explain it. I just got this good feeling, you know?"

"You say so, man," Adam resigned. "The whole thing sounds a little needy to me."

"Needy or not, she knows my name," Eric beamed, still looking straight ahead into nothing. "She knows my name."

Adam shook his head. "All I'm saying - "

"Adam, what is it with you lately? You're the one who's always telling me to go after girls, that I'm too timid, and now you're trying to throw a wet blanket over this whole - "

"All right, J-V squad!" Coach Riley suddenly barked through lips that closed around his favorite whistle. "Three-point drill! Let's go, chumps!"

Eric felt like he glided to the three-point line on a cloud. He picked up the nearest basketball and put up what felt like the perfect shot. It fell through the basket, barely rustling the net. He shrugged and picked up another - the same result. He picked up a third and took three steps backwards, then nailed the long three. He laughed giddily as he ran to the corner and took a sideline shot - this, too, rattled off the rim and went in. Two more fell from the same location.

Now the rest of the team was watching, including Coach Riley, whose dropping jaw released his whistle to fall to the end of its lanyard. Eric hit his sixth in a row, then his seventh. The junior varsity squad began to chant his name, led on by Adam. Eric sank his tenth in a row and the team gathered at half-court to stand and stare in awe.

He grabbed a ball for the eleventh and as he cocked it back to shoot he heard a hollow BANG, the unmistakable sound of a popping balloon, from the hallway outside the gym. His shot sailed underneath the backboard, a horrible airball, and the team shook their heads and returned to their own drills. Eric stood still at the top of the three-point arc wondering what had just happened, staring out the door into the hall. The clock above the door read 4:40, and there in the hallway was none other than Jill and a few of her soccer teammates. Several of them were holding balloons, and Jill, conspicuously, held only three.

"Thought you had something there, thirty-nine," barked Coach Riley. "Take a break, then I want to see you after practice."

Eric took a break indeed, dashing past the grinning Adam into the hallway. Jill noticed him immediately.

"Eric! How was practice?"

"Actually, it's still going on. You know, you broke my concentration."

"Yeah, well, somebody broke one of my balloons," Jill said accusingly, glaring at one of her teammates, who glared back with a wicked smile.

"I can get you that ticket, but I'll be practicing until five," Eric said.

"That's okay, I'll wait around," Jill said. A few of her teammates began to whisper secretly to each other as she did so, and Jill sighed, rolling her eyes for Eric's benefit.

"Cool. I'll catch up with you when I'm done." Eric paused a second. "Sound good?"

"Sure, see you then." One of Jill's teammates was now giggling through her whispers, and Jill kicked her lightly to put a stop to it.

Eric went back to the bench, and Coach Riley sat down next to him.

"Son," he said as he always did, "Nobody makes ten in a row like that and sits. How would you like to start against Tech?"

Eric was dumbfounded. "Why would I do that?"

"Come on, son, you're a senior and you've never started, and let's face it - for some reason or another you've got a hot hand this week. We'll feed you threes all day, it'll be great."

Eric wouldn't have argued if he could. "Thanks, coach. Say," he hesitated. "Can I get a good ticket or two for Tech? They're for my parents," he lied.

"Sure, son, stop by my office after the rest of these losers finish practice. You can go shower up right now. But come Thursday ready to play!"

Eric picked up the tickets after showering and was on his way out of the locker room when he ran into Adam.

"What in blazes was that?" Adam breathed. "I heard you're getting a start? What's that all about?"

"Things are looking up all of a sudden," Eric gloated. "What can I say? Sometimes a fella just gets lucky."

"You're telling me," Adam allowed. "I'll catch you tomorrow. I'm supposed to meet Maria downtown this evening."

"Have fun," Eric called over his shoulder as he left the locker room and found Jill pacing patiently in the front entrance of the school, tugging lazily at her three remaining balloons. He gave her one of his tickets.

"Thanks, Eric," she sang. "You're a stand-up guy."

"And a starter," Eric exulted. "Would you believe that?"

"Congratulations!"

"Yep, it's going to be a great game." Eric could do no wrong this day, so he had to take the next step. "Where are you headed off to tonight?"

"Nowhere in particular," she said.

"Can I walk you home?"

"You'd do that? Don't you have a car?"

"Not today. Adam drove me, and he's off doing something-or-other."

"Well, lead on, boy scout."

Eric took the hint and opened the front door for Jill and her balloons, and the two slowly walked the two miles to Jill's house without a care in the world.

Eric's heart pounded as he stood on the step in front of Jill's front door, holding the door just as he had done back at school to allow her and her balloons entrance. The house was quiet, and all Eric could hear was the rustling sound of the balloons bumping against each other as Jill tied their ribbons to the back of a kitchen chair. He stood in the doorway looking in for what to him felt like ten minutes before she finally gave him the permission his pounding heart desired. He took three steps into the kitchen and closed the door behind him with a click. The silence resumed.

A few awkward seconds later, Jill was the first to speak. "So..." she started hesitantly. "Here we are."

"Yeah," Eric offered lamely. More awkward silence.

"I know," Jill said finally. "My dad just got an awesome home theater setup downstairs. Want to watch a movie or something?"

Eric didn't have to be asked twice. "Cool," he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. His mind raced furiously through the possibilities this evening could bring at the rate it was going... that is, until...

"Hey, check this out," Jill grinned as she skipped over to the refrigerator and extracted an envelope which was magneted to its side. She presented it to Eric proudly. "My tickets to New Orleans. Cool, huh?"

Instantly Eric remembered who the second ticket was for, and his ears burned with the same mixture of rage and defeat that had overwhelmed him at Starlight in the first place. "Yeah, check that out..." he managed through clenched teeth and a forced smile. He had to change the subject. "Got any popcorn?"

"Uh, sure," Jill mused, taking the envelope back from Eric and putting it back on the side of the fridge. She turned and threw open the highest cupboard she could find. As she did so, her soccer jersey lifted just enough to show off the tan skin of her lower back which terminated at the red ruffle of the band of her soccer shorts, and every muscle in her legs and arms stretched tightly, enhancing her already-smooth contours. Eric burned with jealousy at her boyfriend. On the other hand, he thought, he was about to watch a movie with her... alone... at her house. His mind clouded over, and he resolved not to try to overthink things, but instead go with the flow.

Jill put a bag of popcorn in the microwave, and Eric followed her down a winding set of carpeted stairs to an elaborate home theater room, in the middle of which was a sumptuous oversized black leather couch and two matching leather recliners. Eric's lifelong passion for electronics went into hyperdrive as his eyes scanned every component, every speaker: this was as nice a setup as he'd ever had the pleasure of---

"Eric? You okay?"

He snapped out of his reverie and looked Jill in the eyes, only to lapse back into reverie. She held his gaze for just long enough to drive him crazy, then broke away from it and retrieved a DVD movie from a large collection on a shelf at the back of the room. He watched her every move as she padded around the room in her socks to put the movie in the DVD player and turn on the system like a professional.

Eric quickly took a seat in the middle of the plush leather couch. Well played, he thought to himself as Jill took three steps toward the couch to sit down, but instead turned at the last second and took a place in the recliner to Eric's left, much too far away for his liking. His heart sank. She was toying with him and she knew it, he decided. He couldn't conceal his scowl as the opening credits of the movie rolled, and he hardly noticed the stunning picture and surround sound all around him that would have otherwise impressed him to no end.

A faint beeping sound came from upstairs, and Jill bolted up from her chair. "The popcorn," she explained as she dashed up the staircase. Eric stared at the large television screen, eyes unfocused, listening as hard as he could to every move Jill made on the kitchen floor above him. He heard what must have been the sound of her shaking out the popcorn into a glass bowl, the refrigerator opening and closing, a kitchen chair sliding, then her footsteps drawing closer and closer...

But as she came down the staircase again, another, familiar sound accompanied these sounds, and Eric recognized it instantly. He whirled around in his seat to see Jill coming down the stairs with a large bowl of popcorn in one hand, two cans of soda in the other, and tied to her wrist were the three helium balloons that had been following them around all day. As she took her seat in the recliner once again, setting the popcorn and soda on the coffee table in front of them, the balloons tied to her wrist bumped against the acoustic ceiling. She fixed her eyes on the movie once again, but now Eric's were elsewhere.

After a few seconds of realizing she was being watched, Jill glanced at Eric, who shot a quizzical glance first at her, then at the balloons above her head. She smiled innocently and shrugged her shoulders, and with her free hand began to play with the balloons' ribbons as they both watched the movie.

But it was not long before Jill's preoccupation with the balloon ribbons turned into an obsession. Having seen the movie several times before, instead of watching, she untied the balloons from her wrist and tied them to the leg of the coffee table instead. Eric's view of the TV screen was blocked by three still-tightly inflated helium balloons, two red and one gold, lazily wafting back and forth in the breeze of the air-conditioning vent in the ceiling. Eric shifted back and forth on the couch pretending to try to see the movie, but he too was too distracted, and he settled on the left edge of the couch with a mostly-unobstructed view of the screen that also happened to be right next to the arm of Jill's recliner.

Jill pulled a red balloon down from the end of its ribbon and held its knot between her fingers. Eric could once again feel his heart beating in his chest as she swung the balloon around by its knot. It bumped roughly against the sharp edge of the coffee table, but amazingly to Eric remained in one piece as it became clear what Jill was doing. With her short, unpolished fingernails she was picking away at the knot to untie it.

Eric swallowed hard as Jill finally untied the balloon and tossed its ribbon aside. There she sat for far too long, holding a tightly inflated balloon with its untied neck between her fingers and its open mouth hanging loosely, inches from her open lips. Eric gripped the arm of the leather couch, producing a squeaking sound that made him jump before he realized it hadn't come from the balloon Jill was about to...

Now the mouth of the balloon was between her lips. Eric's throat caught and he nearly went into a coughing fit, instead stifling it to a minor wheeze that Jill just barely noticed. But she did notice, and now turned to face Eric with the tight balloon's neck between her lips. She flipped her long blonde hair behind her shoulder with the hand she wasn't using to hold the balloon, and a sudden hissing sound made Eric's skin break out in goosebumps. He cringed instinctively, but never took his eyes off the balloon, which was... shrinking?

Jill pinched off the balloon, whose neck had now shrunk by an inch, and looked at Eric with a questioning eyebrow. She smiled broadly. "What?" Said a tiny, tiny voice. "Haven't you ever done this before?" The tiny voice matched to Jill's mature-for-eighteen face made Eric crack a sudden smile and chuckle; Jill, too, began to laugh in her new squeaky voice, but this only made matters worse. She threw her head back and giggled until she began to blush. The balloon flopped around in her grip as she slapped her knee in laughter.

When the two finally stopped laughing, Jill spoke up again, her voice back to normal. "Come on, you gotta try this," she said, and stood up abruptly from her chair to sit on the couch right next to Eric. Now Eric was smiling again, and his earlier optimism resurfaced in the depths of his mind. He had to find out where they stood. Dozens of possible phrases rushed through his head, and as he settled on one, he looked at Jill until his eyes caught hers, and opened his mouth to say it.

"Jill, I -"

But she cut him off in mid-sentence with the wag of her index finger and a playful scowl. Eric was aghast until he found out why: she held out the balloon in her hand, offering it to Eric. He took the pinched-off neck of the balloon from her, let a generous rush of helium flow into his mouth, pinched off the balloon again, and started over.

"Jill, I - " this time he stopped himself to snort uncontrollably at his chipmunky voice. He'd never heard his voice like this before. In truth, he hardly ever kept helium balloons around long enough to do so - but this was not to be the last "first" he would have today...

He composed himself and went on. "When do you leave for New Orleans?" asked his miniscule voice. He giggled to himself anew as Jill opened her mouth to answer, then caught herself, took the balloon back from Eric, rolled her eyes up at him as she took in more helium, and continued.

"Two weeks after graduation," said her impish voice.

Eric knew the drill now. He took the balloon back from her as they both began to laugh again. After another mouthful of helium, he said "Really?" And through his laughter, began to phrase the question to which he really didn't want the answer. Still, he asked in his high-pitched voice, "Who with?"

Jill's broad smile lessened and her eyes faded as her laughter turned to a rueful grunt. Eric did not like the sullen look that now enveloped her face one bit - it portended exactly what answer she would give... As she took the balloon from Eric, and released its last gasp of helium into her mouth, she spoke. "Well - " but her voice was nearly normal, thanks to the shortage of helium that now remained. She looked disappointed, and threw the wrinkled, distended empty balloon onto the coffee table with a flourish.

Eric's heart sank with each motion she made, until she grabbed the ribbon of the gold helium balloon tethered to the coffee table, drew the balloon down from the ceiling, and with a little squeaking and groaning from the balloon managed to untie it, too, discarding the ribbon to lay on the floor and holding the open neck of the tight gold balloon between her lips. A short hiss later, the balloon shrank an inch, and Jill was finally ready to continue. Eric watched her intently.

"Well - " the miniature voice had returned, but not her laughter this time. "I kinda... don't know."

This was not what Eric had expected, and for the moment he was confused. Maybe she was considering bringing one of her parents, or a brother? He held onto this thin straw of an explanation as he took the gold balloon from her and with a raspberry sound let some helium flow into his mouth. "You don't know?" he said, and resisted the urge to laugh at his voice again. "Don't you have a - "

"Boyfriend?" Jill blurted in her normal voice suddenly. Eric's face flushed red almost immediately. "What'd he do to deserve this trip?" A distraught edge crept into her voice, and Eric could sense she was not done. He offered her the gold balloon again with an upturned eyebrow. She took it from him lazily and nearly drained the rest of the balloon's helium between her lips. There was obviously a long story coming.

"You remember that night at Starlight. All the balloons went up to the ceiling and popped - " Eric salivated Pavlovian at the words he had come so to fear and love over the years, and smacked his lips quietly as she continued. "All the ping-pong balls came down and everyone scrambled to get one. Well," her voice trailed off to its normal pitch, and she took the last gasp of helium from the gold balloon and tossed its limp remains aside. "Mr. Perfect wasn't satisfied with just one. He caught four when they fell, and when he saw that I had one, he took it from me. He left me with nothing."

Now Eric's confusion was obviously knitted on his face. Without bothering to grab the last balloon for helium, he had to ask. "Nothing? I thought you won!"

Jill sat up straighter in her seat next to Eric and turned to face him, crossing one leg on the black leather. "That's the weird thing," she said, her voice completely back to normal. "Just when I thought all the balls were spoken for, I felt one more fall from the ceiling and hit me on the shoulder. I picked it up and hid it in... well, in my dress," she intimated cryptically. Eric knew exactly what she meant, and felt his ears begin to warm again.

"That's so weird," Eric said, still confused. "He obviously didn't find it, did he?"

"Nope, but when the deejay called out its number for the grand prize, I was speechless. I knew it was mine, and I had the ball right next to me, as I watched my silly guy go through all his looking for number 372. He kept repeating the number over and over and when none of his matched - "

Eric stood up suddenly, his head bumping the last remaining balloon floating above their heads and sending it lazily drafting to and fro. "Did you say 372?" He said breathlessly. He stooped to take a long drink from his can of soda to soothe his dry throat.

Now it was Jill's turn to be confused. "Yeah, I remember it as plain as day. Why?"

Eric searched his memory furiously, second-guessing and doubting his recollection. This was too perfect a story to be true... but he had to get out with it. "372! That was mine! That was my ball!" He grew suddenly quiet and looked around the room as one caught in a profound cosmic coincidence.

Jill let out a surprised laugh. "Yours?" Eric couldn't decide whether the look on her face was one of disbelief, or unbelief. "How was it yours? You told me you didn't have a ticket!"

"No, no, you don't understand," Eric said. "It was mine. I had it earlier in the night."

Jill grew even more puzzled. "Now that you mention it, I remember seeing you with a balloon that night... purple, maybe? Well, if you had it earlier in the night, why didn't you - "

"I don't know!" Eric blurted. "My balloon didn't survive for some reason."

"For some reason?" Now Jill smelled either a fib, or a truth withheld. "Balloons don't just pop by themselves," she mused, then cracked a mysterious grin that she meant to keep to herself. "Well, usually they don't."

"Well, mine did..." Eric started, then thought better of it. "...n't. I popped it."

Now Jill could tell she was getting bits and pieces of the truth, but not the whole thing, like finding shredded fragments on the floor of what must have been a beautiful round balloon. She needed the whole thing. She stood up slowly from the couch and looked Eric in the eye. "Now why would you do something like that?"

"I dunno," Eric said defensively, and now he could feel his obvious blushing. "I mean..." he searched her face for sympathy, looking for any reason to dance around this question, and found there was no way out. Instead, her head cocked and she crossed her arms across the slick gold jersey covering her chest. She was prepared to wait for this one.

Eric took yet another deep breath and started slow. "I was kinda irritated," he said. "Okay, I was pissed. Frustrated." He grew quiet, determined to say only as much as would satisfy Jill's curiosity and no more.

But Jill pressed further. "Frustrated? As I remember it, I saw you with that balloon only a couple minutes before the drawing, and it looked like you were in a good mood. What makes a guy go from smiling to taking out his frustration on a poor balloon in two minutes?"

Eric opened his mouth and took a breath to object, then let it out in a sigh. He collapsed his body weight back onto the couch, and Jill sat down gently after him, facing him as she had before. He searched her eyes for another way out, but instead she offered him her right hand. She didn't know why - her instinct just told her the last piece of this puzzle was about to fit if he could bear to bring it out. He took her hand in both his.

"It was..." Eric started hoarsely, his voice cracking. Suddenly the self-consciousness he had shackled himself with for so many years came flooding back. He breathed in and out slowly, then steeled himself to continue.

"It was you, okay? There, I said it."

The broadening smile on Jill's face told Eric that at some level she had expected this explanation. This made it easier to continue as if she already knew what he was about to tell her.

"I've wanted to talk to you for the longest time and never took the chance and there you were with that guy and - "

But now Eric was rambling, his mind having checked out to allow his feelings free passage. Jill's smile widened, flashing her white teeth, and sympathy and understanding filled her eyes. She placed the index finger of her free left hand to Eric's lips to silence him for the moment, then reached over and retrieved the last, red balloon from the leg of the coffee table. She held it in the middle of its ribbon so that it dangled a few inches above both their heads as she spoke.

"Well, I'm glad you overcame that little problem," she said comfortingly. "And it was so thoughtful of you to give me these balloons today. You're so sweet."

"Me?" Eric laughed faintly. "That wasn't my idea. I would never have done it if you hadn't - " as he said this Jill's eyebrow dropped into yet another confused look. Was he speaking another language or something? "This was your idea!" He pleaded.

Silence.

Jill shook her head with closed eyes as if to shake out the truth from her confused brain. "What are you talking about?"

Eric was in no mood to play coy today - he had to know everything, and everything he thought he knew wasn't matching up with reality. His mind snapped to, and he stood up again to retrieve a folded red card from his pocket. He tossed it to Jill as he sat back down. She read it over slowly, confused as ever.

More silence.

Now Eric felt as foolish as if he were sitting in front of her in his underwear with a whole leaf of spinach between his teeth. This was out there now, and there was no taking it back. Defeated, his shoulders fell to what felt like his waist. "You didn't write that," he said, more of a statement than a question.

"No, but it's cute," Jill said optimistically. "I kinda wish I had. So you thought that I was..."

"You-know-who," Eric admitted. He felt like crying, but instead draped his head into his hands for a second and inhaled deeply.

"That is so weird," Jill pondered matter-of-factly. She let go of the balloon she was holding and it returned to bob at the end of its ribbon near the ceiling. "I wonder who..."

"Does it even matter?" Eric cried out, checkmated by his heart once again and ready to throw the entire chessboard out the window. "I should really be going..." He stood up for what he thought would be the last time.

But Jill stood up too and rested a soft hand on his shoulder. She sat down again; Eric took the hint and did too. He had decided to say no more; his cover was blown and he was still in enemy territory. The enemy, however, was not done.

Jill took the creased card and studied it once more as Eric squirmed and avoided her eye contact. She reached over to the coffee table and retrieved a black pen. "Eric..." she started liltingly. "I didn't send you this card or these balloons. I don't know who did, and obviously, neither do you. But..." at this she uncapped the pen and wrote her name on Eric's card in the Sender blank in large script. "It doesn't matter. Let's just pretend it was me."

It took Eric a while to process this, which after several desperate seconds of searching her sympathetic smiling eyes he was finally able to do. "So," he droned in anticipation. "Where does that leave us?"

"I'll tell you where that leaves us," Jill said. "If you hadn't seen me at Starlight with that guy I broke up with that night, you would never have popped your balloon and given up your raffle ticket to throw into the crowd so I could get it and win a trip to New Orleans," she said, beginning to giggle at the absurdity of her run-on sentence. "That trip was yours before it was mine, and if you hadn't had this little thing for me I wouldn't have won it! How crazy is that?"

Eric, too, chuckled wearily at the irony of the situation. Wait - did she just say she broke up with... "You broke up with that guy?"

Jill laughed again. "Would you stay with someone that robbed you of all your raffle tickets seconds before the drawing?" Eric shrugged comically. "Well, I wouldn't." Now her eyes narrowed and her cheeks dimpled in a bashful smile as she continued. "But I would stay with the guy that gave up his chance at winning so that he could give it to someone else," she purred as she took both his hands in hers softly, then leaned in with her eyes locked on his until their faces were inches from each other. She closed her eyes slowly, Eric did the same, and their lips met, however briefly, for the first time.

When Eric's eyes opened again, they were as wide as platters. Jill's smiling face grew giddy, and she giggled in spite of herself. But the look in her eyes, pleased but not yet satisfied, told Eric she wasn't finished with him yet - not by a long shot.

Eric was speechless other than to breathe "That - that was -" and run out of words.

Jill looked away shyly, which surprised Eric until he realized she had finally started to blush herself. What he could not know is the reason - she was running through her mind how to ask him the next question on her mind. Instead of speaking, she silently grabbed the ribbon of the last red balloon again and tugged it to her chest until she held its small knot between her fingers.

"What do you have against these anyway?" Jill nodded to the balloon swaying back and forth in her grip. "Do you always pop balloons to relieve tension?"

Eric's mind reeled as it returned to the only two times he'd seen Jill face-to-face in the past week; both of them had resulted in him popping a balloon in front of her in frustration. "Well," he started before his throat caught and he began to cough.

As he chugged the last of his can of soda, Jill worked to untie the balloon in her grip and placed the neck of the balloon, still tightly inflated down most of its neck, between her unpainted lips to inhale more helium. Eric cracked a smile at the thought of talking in high voices again as he heard a rushing noise and watched the balloon, which didn't seem to be getting any small--BANG! the red balloon popped violently, sending tiny curled fragments of latex everywhere. Eric leapt out of his seat and stood aghast staring at Jill, who appeared completely unfazed as she sat with a satisfied smile on her face and the shredded remains of the balloon's neck between her fingers.

Jill spoke first after a long silence. "There's enough tension in here, don't you think?"

Eric breathed deeply to calm the jackhammer that had replaced his heart. His voice fluttered as he finally spoke. "Did you do that to relieve tension? Or to create it?"

Jill's smile turned mischevious. This guy got it. "Come on, Eric. I saw the way you went after your balloons. I saw the way you looked at me when I popped those balloons my ex sent me. You totally dig this."

Eric didn't know whether to run out of the house screaming and never return, or to take Jill in his arms and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. Torn between two extremes, he did nothing, said nothing. She had read him like a book, played him like a guitar, cornered him like an animal. His ultimate "her," his little fox, had outfoxed him.

Jill's voice deepened as she gave him one more question that needed no answer. "Tell me you're not totally into this right now."

Eric couldn't. Neither could he tell her otherwise - he was dumbfounded. He felt his knees weaken and sat back on the couch to contain himself. Finally, he whispered hoarsely. "So, where does that leave us?"

Jill tossed the broken balloon's neck over her shoulder and moved in for the kill.She leaned over Eric suddenly and smiled broadly through narrow, satisfied eyes. "New Orleans, if you play your cards right," she whispered, and this time their kiss would last much longer than their first.

To be continued...