Desked

Falling in love...literally

.⋆.⋆.–Xavier

I remember that fateful day. The night I met her.

The 8th-grade band trip to Six Flags was a trip I'll never forget–swarms of students running around, clutching their instrument cases, and wearing our school t-shirts with pride.

I was one of them.

Under the smoke-polluted evening sky, I was just wandering around with the 3 buzzkills I begrudgingly have to claim as my friends; Dennis, Jay, and Connor. Just as I was losing interest, lo and behold–the Ferris wheel started powering up for the night. I've always wanted to go on one and admire the view from below, but I never got the chance to.

Not after he passed.

Finally, after years of waiting, my chance had come; we were going on the Ferris wheel!

Well, not "we", just me. None of my friends had any interest in coming with me because t̶h̶e̶y̶'̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶c̶o̶w̶a̶r̶d̶s̶ they were pretty much done for the night, so I just went alone.

Along the way, I was able to spot some students by the cotton candy stand, echoed screaming and yelling accompanying their exaggerated gestures. Glancing at their shirts, I immediately recognized they were from our school. A girl and a boy–and they were mad.

It felt wrong to eavesdrop, so I simply continued on my way...

...Until I heard the guy scream.

"What's wrong with you?! I put my heart on a silver platter and you just throw it away?!"

"Nathan–"

"Just let me love you!"

"You don't love me–you're just obsessed with me!"

"That's not the way you should talk to your boyfriend.'

"You aren't my–"

"Why can't you just be a good little girl and just listen for once!"

"I've listened. I've heard. I gave you so many chances, and yet all you do–"

Through the corner of my eye, I saw the guy lurch forward and grab her by the collar of her shirt. Bastard.

"Let go of me!"

"Not until you listen–"

"GO AWAY!"

The girl pushed the f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶b̶a̶s̶t̶a̶r̶d̶ guy into a nearby pole and ran.

Into me.

One moment, she was on me, (like, ON me), faces inches apart–and the next moment, she was slapping me across the face and running off. It wasn't until those few seconds that I realized...

Glistening brown almond eyes, rosy pink lips, luscious straight brown hair, and flushed red cheeks...

She's beautiful.

.⋆.⋆.

Pulling out my dusty, beat-up 7th-grade yearbook, I desperately flip through the pages.

Brown wolfcut...Rich chocolate almond eyes...It sounded like a familiar melody to me.

Wait...

I flipped to page 137–Homeroom 202.

And there she was.

Her same, gorgeous self. The only difference was her thick, black-rimmed glasses. Right next to her, was a somewhat short, rowdy kid with light brown skin and shabby black hair.

Xavier Kanji.

How did I never notice? Wait–I was pretty oblivious then (curse you, younger me). Nonetheless– it's pretty remarkable how pretty she looks in her yearbook photos. Pictures of her in the student council, in the Art Club.

She looked so...happy.

That smile...Made me feel something. I don't know what it was. My stomach suddenly felt weird. It kept on making flips and turning. That smile...it made my cheeks turn from a pale brown to a deep red.

Was I sick?

Yes.

Diagnosis?

Love