Isn't she Lovely

01

At first I just watched her from afar. She intrigued me, and piqued my interest. Maybe it was the fact that she was one of the only girls in our class. Or maybe it was the fact that she was one of the few minorities in this white washed school. Or maybe it was the fact that she was so out of this world beautiful. It's probably D...all of the above, but despite all the reasons all I did was watch her.

It was the first day of school. I wasn't a super socialite but I recognize faces, and she wasn't one I recognized. We live in a small town with only two high schools. A town where you get to know everyone without even trying. So I was amazed to see a new face.

She sat across the room, next to a guy whose name I couldn't remember for the life of me. I knew him though, we had a history class together freshman year. He was quickly ignored and blinded by the girl who steadily took my attention. She didn't dress like she fit in this class. Which I know may seem stereotypical but it's reality. She gave off the vibe of the social pretty girl. Maybe not a mean girl, but definitely a socialite. She wore tight bodycon dresses that made her long pretty legs look model-like. Her  kinky twists are always up in a tight bun, with giant hoops to match every outfit. She didn't look like shit fit in our nerdy world of Ap physics and I thought maybe her being in this class was an accident.

"Alright class, say hi to your buddy!" Our overly enthusiastic science teacher announced as he walked into the class that first day. Ignoring the gesture I watched her as her bright smile lit up the room as she said hi to the guy sitting next to her. I couldn't help the sudden irritation I felt when she gave him her warm smile. However instead of trying to analyze it and figure out why the heck I was feeling this way over a girl I just met, I ignored it.

I tuned out the rest of the introduction of Mr.Haas, as he continued with the yearly speech of syllabus and class intros. He didn't make us do introductions thank God, so class flew by quickly. I felt as if I was in peanuts, the teacher's voice sounding like distant ramblings that didn't sound like coherent english.

I watched her all of class, as she doodled in her notebook. I couldn't quite see what she was drawing. All I saw was the way her button nose scrunched up when she made a mistake that she later on had the erase. Her short pink acrylic nails tapping on the table as she was lost in her own world.

I found myself wondering what she felt like. If her skin was as smooth as it looked, if it held warmth the way her presence did, quiet but impossible to ignore. It wasn’t about touching her right then—it was about the wanting itself, the curiosity that sat heavy in my chest as I watched her exist so easily in her own body. She felt real in a way that scared me, like someone you don’t just look at but slowly ache toward, hoping one day she might look back and see you too.

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H

ad to tweak that last paragraph..

Thank you ;)