Author's Note: I don't know why Wattpad set this as PG-13, but this is definitely a G rated story. Sorry.
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HARANA (SERENADE)
Keiichiro Koyama sat up stiffly in his desk unable to relax. He could sense her sitting one desk to the left and two desks back. Yeah, he counted it as if it were a math lesson in graphing. He had a crush on her since the start of the school year, but it was already almost the end of it and still hadn’t have the guts to talk to her.
He was a shy guy of 17, going on 18. He was graduating from high school in two weeks, and would be leaving San Francisco to go back home to Tokyo. He felt the urgency to at least talk to his crush before then or forever hold his peace.
Kei slowly turned to look over his shoulder to get a quick peek at her. Of course, she didn’t notice him at all. Never once, never will. Disappointed, he turned back to face the front, pretending to pay attention to the teacher at the front. The World Literature discussion on the assigned book barely seeped through his brain as he tried to think up ways to talk to her.
He remembered the first day of school in this country. So different from Japan. He felt homesick sitting at his desk as he observed his classmates coming in and greeting their friends and catching up their adventures during summer.
Then he saw her.
Dressed up as a model, her wavy hair framed softly around her delicate face. Purplish eyeshadow caked her eyelids and her lips glossed with the soft pink lipstick. She had on a striped halter top matched with a white cotton flowy skirt. Her feet adorned with white 3-inch heel shoes. The tote slung on her shoulder completed her outfit.
Kei also noticed that she was Japanese, much to his relief.
“Mao! Over here!” a girl called her over from the back.
“Wow, those new Jimmy Choos looked good on you,” commented another posse. “Is that the latest Chanel bag?”
The girl smiled brightly and shuffled her way between rows of desks. She completely walked by Kei without paying him any attention. Her tote slightly hit him on the shoulder. Kei smiled to himself, though. At least he knows her name now.
And during the school year, he was able to get bits and pieces about this girl, Mao Inoue, an only daughter to a tycoon and an actress. Her family had moved to San Francisco when she was 10, going back to Tokyo only during summers. She was also picky with guys.
Kei thought he wouldn’t stand a chance with Miss Inoue. He was only in the States as an exchange student on scholarship. His dad only sells seafood in a humble 3 feet-by-5 feet stall at the open-air market and his mom teaches piano from their house. The Koyamas weren’t anywhere near the status of the Inoues.
Yet, he still nurtured his crush on Mao.
During the school year, he gradually learned English until he was able to have a conversation with anyone. He also made friends from different cultures he knew he wouldn’t have the opportunity to know if he had stayed in Japan.
“Psstt, Kei,” someone whispered behind him on his right. Kei turned slowly to avoid being noticed from the teacher. He saw Hero Angeles, his Filipino friend, smirked at him.
“What?” Kei whispered back. Instead of replying, Hero flung a folded note to him.
Curiously, Kei opened the note. Hero had sketched Kei kissing Mao on the cheek. He quickly growled at his friend, who snickered quietly. In spite of objecting to the sketch, Kei felt a bit pleased over it, though he refused to show his emotions.
