WHISPERS OF THE HEART

PROLOGUE

I stared at him intently as he walked down the hallway. How long? How long, oh gosh, would I have to hide my feelings from him? I knew it was wrong, I knew it went against all norms, but this bottled-up emotion was killing me. What if there was a slight chance he felt the same way? What if we could actually be something more?

I still remember the time I caught him staring at my lips. He made a remark about how full and soft they looked. That isn't something you just say to a friend, and I knew it. But I was too scared to act on it—too scared of rejection.

He glanced back, and our eyes locked. His gaze was strong and unyielding, sending waves of pleasure through me, making my heart skip a beat.

His cornflower-blue eyes lit up, and I was frozen. What was I supposed to do when he was looking directly at me? His stare made my whole body weak.

"Hi," he mouthed, offering a soft smile—the kind you'd give to a younger sibling. That's what I hated most.

What were the chances we could push beyond just being friends?

I returned his smile, and then he turned away, walking off.

Darn. Week two of messing up my chance to say more than just "hi." I bit down on my lower lip before Sarah's voice snapped me back to reality.

"He's really not that hot, you know."

My friend Sarah popped up out of nowhere, leaning over my shoulder, the end of her sucker stick poking me in the arm.

"He is! Shut—" I stopped, taking a deep breath. Think rationally, Bell, I told myself. She's going to push until you say something you'll regret.

"Other than his pretty face, what does he have going for him?" Sarah mused, twirling the lollipop in her hand. "Grades: bad. Humor: bad. Dating life: bad—or maybe good? Who knows? What else?" She rattled off her so-called "criteria" for my future partners, as if she were some kind of matchmaker.

"Maybe if you weren't so judgmental, you could see beyond the surface!" I snapped. Sarah was always like this—rambling on, trash-talking him, treating me like I was her little sister, or worse, her child.

"Not everyone is as 'experienced' as you are," I hissed, yanking open my locker to shield myself from her.

Sarah Brown was pretty. Not just any kind of pretty—she was Hollywood, would-die-for kind of pretty, and it bugged me. A little. Or maybe a lot?

Sometimes I wished I had thick, shoulder-length black curls, those piercing green eyes that could cut through anyone's heart, thin lips that complemented her perfectly pointed nose, and skin so pale it made her dark features stand out. Oh, and the doll-like face that screamed perfection.

If I looked like her, I could have anyone flock to me—including him.

But that was the old me.

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Darn it. If only I had known. I would never have done it. I shouldn't have even thought about it. But now, it is what it is.

I stood on the bridge railings, staring down at the cool blue river below, its surface reflecting the night sky like a mirror. It gazed back at me, inviting me.

The flashing headlights of the police cars and the worried cries of my parents echoed around me, but I barely heard them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing there. He looked confused and scared, like he was wondering why I would go to such lengths. I didn't know either.

I wanted to hold him, to reassure him that this was all just a nightmare. But who was I kidding? This was real. The cold night air biting at my exposed skin reminded me of that. This emotional torture—it was all painfully real.

I looked down at my reflection in the water. It seemed happy. Maybe that's how I'll look when I'm finally free.

Before I could think twice, I let go. I jumped.

And as the water swallowed me whole, pulling me deeper, I smiled—finally sinking, along with my sorrows.