For Keeps

crushing

Stella

The first time I laid eyes on Mr. Aaron Thompson, the world around me faded into nothingness.

He stood at the front of the classroom, undeniably charismatic, with tousled dark hair and a smile that could light up the dreariest of my days.

My heart raced fast as he welcomed us. His voice was smooth like velvet, effortlessly captivating my attention.

I uncomfortably shifted in my seat, trying to get rid of the ache he gave me. I wasn't sure if he was aware of the tension in the room. The energy I was sending his way.

But it wasn't just his looks that attracted me so badly. It was the way he carried himself, confident and genuine. It wasn't an act, it was real.

That first week, I continued to watch him closely. I trailed behind him, studying his interactions with my classmates.

When Emily, the popular girl of our grade, giggled at his jokes, a sharp twist of jealousy grew in my stomach.

I had to have him—needed to find a way to get closer. In the way they seemed to be. It was harmless on his end, I was sure.

By the end of the week, I created a pretty good plan. I also managed to find out every little important detail I needed for this to work out in my favor.

I had to remind myself, he had a girlfriend. Who just happened to work at the school as well.

Even better, she ended up being my history teacher. I wouldn't let this deter me though. If anything, it only worked in my favor.

After history class I approached Ms. Carter, his girlfriend, under the guise of seeking advice on an assignment. She was warm and welcoming, and I played the part of the eager student perfectly.

Her demeanor radiated the kind of kindness that made it easy to lower one's guard. "Hi, Ms. Carter," I said, adopting my best eager-student persona.

Looking up from grading papers her eyes found my own. Ms. Carter was generic looking. Not ugly, of course. Just an average looking woman. She had blonde short hair, and was tall, much taller than me. She also had a fake spray tan.

We looked so different, I was surprised this was his type. I was smaller. In height and width. I also had fair natural skin, I didn't put chemicals on my body. I had long soft brown hair, and big doe eyes. While she had smaller eyes, and wavy short blonde hair.

"I just feel so overwhelmed with my work. Do you think you could help me?" I ask.

Her eyes lit up, and she gestured for me to sit at the small desk by her classroom window. "Of course! What are you having trouble with?"

I leaned in, letting my voice quaver slightly for effect. "I'm trying to analyze historical figures and their motivations, but I just feel stuck. I thought maybe you could share some tips?"

She smiled. "Yes, you want to get a notebook out and write this down?" I nodded.

As she began to outline her thoughts, I listened intently, nodding along. Her passion for history was infectious, and I found myself captivated by her insights.

Yet, I had a purpose beyond the project. I needed to make her sympathetic to me.

"Can I be honest with you?" I asked, shifting my tone. "I've been feeling really insecure about myself lately."

Her expression softened. "I'm here to listen. What's been bothering you?"

I took a breath, feeling both vulnerable and relieved. "I've dealt with bullying in the past, and it still affects me. At my old school it was the worst. It makes it hard to participate or even ask questions."