It was innocent enough. Actually, extremely innocent. Over the top innocent. Disgustingly innocent.  Enough-to-make-you-puke innocent.
She asked me out.
She asked me out.
I don’t know if I attract these kinds of people, or if they’re just so lonely that they’ll settle for someone like me, or something in between. All I know is, I’m not the kind of person she should ask out. I’m not the kind of person anyone should ask out. I have a million excuses, too: I’m but a child, a toddler, even, I’m the most boring person you’ll meet, I’m just not fit for relationships, I’m too tall for my age and gender...
She asked me out after school had ended, in the library in the world cultures section. We always hung out there after school and picked out the most boring books to flip through, laughing and pointing to pictures and words out of context. I didn’t think of those times as anything but fun, platonic bonding, wasting our time instead of getting our work done, but now they have a whole different meaning to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go into the library ever again.
I had a book in my lap, thumbing through the rough pages leisurely. I wasn’t really in the mood to look at books that day, actually, but I had come up to the library because she wanted to hang out. She was fiddling around with her phone, wrapping a strand of straight, black hair around her finger. After a few more minutes of staring at the faces of different asian generals from World War II, I shut the book and shelved in behind me into a random section. I started to stand and pick up my backpack, saying, “I’m getting bored. I have physics homework, too.”
She looked up from her phone and pocketed it quickly, scrambling to get up. “Wait,” she said, and from the look on her face, I could see that she was about to do something she either a) didn’t want to do, or b) was terrified of doing. “I, uh, have something to tell you. Er, ask you.” 
I hate when people do that. Say they need to “ask me something”, as if it doesn’t make my stomach do somersaults the minute they say “ask”. Speaking of stomachs, mine was in knots by this time. “What is it?”
She sighed, then rubbed the back of her neck. Then she fidgeted with her shirt sleeve before laughing nervously. “It’s a little awkward, sorry. I, um…” Don’t ask me anything, please,  I screamed in my mind, let me deal with physics!  That’s enough torture! 
She ignored my silent screams. “Will you go out with me?”
Yikes. More than yikes. Zoinks.
I didn’t know what to say. What could I have said?I don’t think “Sorry, I have no desire to spend my days with you or anyone as a romantic partner, don’t tell anyone I’m a frigid bastard!” would have covered how sorry I was. It wasn’t her at all; she was beautiful, with shiny, silky black hair that was completely braidable, porcelain skin and warm, chocolate, almond sized eyes. I would be insane not to agree to go out with her.
For a few awkward seconds, I stood there, my mouth hanging open slightly, as if to say something. Her eyes were doe-like and shiny, looking at me with expectancy and a little bit of fear. She wants an answer, I yelled in my mind again. Say something!
“I…” Great start… “Me?” ...Great end.
She blinked, as if not understanding my stupidity and ignorance just as much as I didn’t. “Yes? D-Do you not want to, or..? It’s okay if you don’t, I get it, I just thought…”
“No, I-I do,” No you don’t! Stop speaking! RIGHT NOW! “I-I’ll go out w-with you. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”
The pure happiness that sprouted on her face at that moment was enough to make a blind man see again. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me so tight, I was sure she was gonna put me out of my misery right there and strangle me to death. She was laughing, too, relieved laughter, which only made me grimace. “I was so f***ing terrified, you have no idea!”
I’m still terrified, and this happened a few weeks ago.
“Y-You shouldn’t have been, I’m willing to try this out if you are,” my big mouth kept going on. She laughed again, this one a more joyful and tinkling one, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her, albeit forced. “Wanna help me with physics?”
She nodded, and we’ve been dating ever since.
You know what, at least she’s happy. She is  one of my close friends, after all. I couldn’t bare to see her sad or upset over something as trivial as my answer to her romance. Even if she is making a giant mistake. I’m not saying that because I hate myself or anything, I actually quite like my personality and all that, I’m just more concerned with the fact that I’m a young, aromantic teenage girl who does not associate herself with romance with girls. Or anyone.
Okay, I hate myself sometimes.