She stands among the crowd. Theyre either listening intently or half-listening to the man on stage, talking about global warming, natural disasters, tsunamis, that kind of stuff. Her classmates are horrified. She feels someone move in beside the pillar she was leaning against. She pretends to look around, spots his friends, and finally lays her eyes on him, standing a little ways to her left. She wonders what powers would urge him to stand so close to her, causing her heart to palpitate with his strong presence. She keeps on standing in the same spot, trying to keep a relaxed pose while straining to understand the speaker's lecture on disaster management. Futile. She could smell his scent -- a hint of aftershave. She could even feel his eyes on her. Could it be --
Everywhere he went, he would see her. An unusual girl. But their classmates respected her. She was always the type to get things done excellently. She was someone they could depend on with school affairs. Who knows what possessed them to vote him as the VP to her President. The more he thought of that, the more he thought that if it wasn't for his stint as vice president, he wouldn't have known about her love for books, for Bruce Willis movies, and wrestling. He couldn't have spent so much time with her to notice that she scratches her elbow everytime she lied, or how bright and pretty her eyes looked when she was intently discussing plans for the school fair. If it wasn't for all that time, he wouldn't have fallen in love with her.
He would have to explain later to their homeroom teacher why he was late for the assembly. It was convenient, however, because he was placed in the back, near to where she was standing. He sees her surreptitiously scanning the auditorium, but she doesn't seem to notice him. She was nearsighted where things really mattered. At least he was able to admire her from this angle. The light did great things to her eyes (lately he was obsessed with how light touched her face), which did strange things to his stomach. Here comes the butterflies.
What was the guy at the podium talking about? Something about tectonic plates. It didn't matter. He's too busy thinking up a plan to make her a part of his world.
-- nah, he can't be looking at her. It's her with her assumptions again. Why must he be so cute? Why must he bear himself with such grace not commonly found in boys his age? How can he be manly and boyish at the same time? He had no idea how he can be so influential with their classmates. A natural peacemaker. He should be a diplomat. Not only that, but she noticed a kind of brilliance in him that he doesn't care to show. She had a funny feeling he could easily surpass her.
Was it, or was it not, incredibly hot in that gym? She drags her friend toward the lavatory to get some fresh air. She passes him, once again smelling that aftershave. But there's something gnawing at her. They say that if you catch a guy turn his head to look at you while you're passing by, it means he likes you. What the heck? Might as well find out.
He could smell the scent of raspberries as she passes him on her way to the girls' room. His eyes follow her. He was unaware that he had half-turned his back at the podium, and was all but ogling her. Her back is turned towards him, but she suddenly turns her head.
Their eyes meet.
Then a skip.
April 4, 2011
I think love stories are the easiest to write, don't you? Or maybe girls just have a huge reservoir of fantasies. OR maybe it's just me.
This story got quite of hand. I thought it would take only a few paragraphs, but I guess I really was trying to build a novel (?). Now that I think about it, I shou;dn't have tried to supress it. I'm uncomfortable writing love stories (though I have written a few), when all I have ever experienced were unrequited loves. I wonder if the one who read this thinks its as cheesy as I think it is. But then again, love stories have a certain level of cheesiness.