sehnsucht ✓

chapter 1

I wanted to scream. Cry for help. My friend, Ingrid, who honestly was much more cheerful and spontaneous than I could ever be, dragged me to the very front of the bleachers.

Not that we had much of a choice, the gym was pack filled of zealous kids in my school, in high spirits to cheer on the Senior Varsity Men's Volleyball team. As a dancer, I didn't really care much for team sports.

But that's not where the problem that had me all choked up lied. It was the fact that a group of jocks were changing their shirts right smack in front of me, including one increasingly-dreamy Mark Pierce, who isn't even my type. I mean, until recently.

As a predominantly hip hop and mildly k-pop person, I've usually been into Kpop idols. Just a bit. Not the cringy stalker way which includes a plethora of fanfics that reach the home page of said websites, but taste in that manner.

Don't judge me, I'm just being honest.

Also a new occurrence, I've grown attracted to a few Latino guys this year. 2019, year of the boy. I don't know, there's a trait deceptively blissful about them. If that makes sense. So no, it was not in my vision that I'd have a crush on a dude who Ingrid likes to call, "vanilla".

Again, she has a sassy and chirpy personality. Imagine your stereotypical angry African-American woman in every movie, with an opinion on everything. That's Ingrid, except, one major differentiation: she's fit and has long legs. Not so much Tyler Perry.

Sinking back into reality, I coughed. The moment was over, and the team was about to start their first set. Looking over, Ingrid was staring at me with wide, judgmental eyes. I could only a muster an awkward smile, though my eyes were suggesting something more catered to,

"Stop looking at me like that. Don't make it obvious. It'll pass."

Ingrid made a chortling noise, trying to hold in laughter. Her face with a wide smirk, it was turning red.

"Okay. Okay. I'm done. But girl, have you ever considered just saying hi to him? Make friends. Isn't he in your English class?"

"Not gonna happen," I shrug. Most of my crushes disappeared after a week or two. Sometimes a few months, if the situation called for it. I wanted to just let this feeling pass before it made a mess of life. It was peaceful, leaving me only to sulk with my B to B- ranging average.

"Oh, Yasmin! Come here," Ingrid waves at our friend who carefully walks on the sides, striding over to us, eye bags making it apparent her lack of sleep. At least the topic abruptly ends here, I think.

She takes a seat on my lap and puts her arms around my neck, and I complete the hug by doing the same, moving my arms around her waist. We're like this. If I were a boy, I would go for Yasmin. One of my hands move to brush strands of her long, way brown hair, mixed in with blonde highlights.

A pat on the shoulder from Ingrid, she joins us momentarily, before breaking off in time for it to not be long and weird. Yasmin follows, but one of the players on the court, from our school whistles as we break apart.

"That's the kind of action I like to see," he turns to his other side and remarks to his team in general, though I only hear him say this faintly. Loud enough for me to tilt my head on the side in irritation. My eye twitched, and I really didn't want to draw attention in this crowd. There were parents and visitors of multiple away teams that were here for the tournament, hosted by our school.

"Play the game, asshole," Ingrid immediately comes to my defense, sending a dirty look towards Derek. She could go off passionately about patronism, arguing parts of history that were unfavorable for her ancestors.