𝒐𝒖𝒓 [ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 ] 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 ➼ She's tired of it―she's tired of it all. Watching from behind. Sneaking peaks, never being able to say: I love you.
Having crushed on the same boy for a long time Isa has realised that it's time for a change. B...
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My mind won't stop rushing. I tried sleeping early but that didn't work. I just kept on twisting and turning in my bed so I jumped up and ran to the kitchen. Baking! That's never failed me is what I thought
But for the first time it seems it has. I slump down into my seat as I watch the muffins flatten out in the oven. Slowly rising up to take the form of a mountain. No matter how much I mixed, pressed and cut my mind would still go back to Noah.
Interested? Interested how?
Well he certainly doesn't like me. He didn't use the word 'like' right? He only said interested. But how interested? From a scale from zero to one hundred — I need to know! I slam my head on the wooden table. If only I could ask him.
What is this? What is all this?
What have I possibly gotten myself into?
• ღ •
I see Noah by his locker, packing away his things and walk towards him. His eyes widens a bit once he notices me.
"The girl you're interested in — what is it about her? What drew you to her?"
He blinks.
Watching me as silence washes past us.
It's only then that I notice what I just did. What I just said...
What happened to hello? How are you? Why did I instantly jump to that? I bite back a groan and step back. Letting out an awkward chuckle.
"Ahaha... Sorry about that I don't know why I just — erm... ah," I claw at my collarbone, "forget I just asked that, okay?" Without giving him the chance to reply I run off to class. How did I mess up that badly?
• ღ •
Somehow, tennis really isn't that bad. Yeah I started it when I was younger only for Bianca, hoping to have more time to spend with a friend and later only being forced into tennis because of my failing grade but now, I've gotta say, it isn't that bad. Probably the only physical sport I don't hate.
"What's got you looking so happy?" Noah asks, snapping me out of my trance.
I cock my head to the side. "Nothing, was I smiling?" My finger lightly taps my cheek.
"Nah, but you just sort of had an air around you," he makes strange gestures with his hand, "it seemed positive."
I hold in a chuckle.
"That doesn't make any sense, Noah."
He stills for a moment, but not out of shock or sadness. It's more like he's just realized something. And I seem to have realized something too. When did I get like this? My eyes wander to an outward place, the beating of my heart filling my mind. When did I become able to casually talk to Noah?
I open my mouth, ready to say something more but my voice only comes out as strained when something hits my face. You would have thought it was going at light speed because I didn't even notice it until it hit me. My hand somehow catches the object and it's a vibrant green. Tennis ball. Of course it's her. I'm about to say something when I see the horrified look on Noah's face and that's when I feel it. The warm, metallic liquid coating my face. I tap my nose and upper lip, damn near half my face is covered. How hard did she shoot that ball?
I look over to Bianca but she's facing away talking to someone. Though she turns to look at me from over her shoulders — like she could feel my eyes on her — and sends me a nonchalant shrug.
Someone must have called a teacher since one of the teachers rushes over to me, holding me by the shoulder. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"
"Yes I'm al..." My feet stagger. What was I about to say?
The teacher looks over at the crowd of students that have now formed. "Is there anyone here who can—"
Someone grabs me by the hand and pulls me away. "I'll take her to the nurses office!" His voice rings in my ear, booming over all the other students.
