Then I Saw Him...

My Chance...

Nathan's P.O.V.

     I've always seen her since 1st grade, sitting at her little desk, reading those fantasy books. Now she reads romance novels, a different book everyday. How does she do it?, I always ask myself. She is extremely smart, always top of the class, next to Thomas. She manages everything so well, with that same look, a straight face.
     They always called her "serious Cyn", it was easy to figure out why. I don't know what drew me to her all those years, made me so interested in her, her life, her friends, everything she did, just made me want to look at her more. Too bad she never noticed me, only her friend, Abigail White, but I never wanted to look at Abigail, just Cyn. But, why? I knew when I first spoke to Cyn, her face made me smile, even with her glum expression.
     Now, I need to start back in 5th grade, three years ago.

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     I was an athletic kid, but it never satisfied my family. My goal was to become the best in the school, or maybe the best in the nation, but I still had my doubts.
     Ever since 5th grade, I went outside and practiced  every sport I loved, four hours a day. My practice often led to this sight of that girl, sitting at her window, listening to music, reading, and doing school work. Every day, she was in that same routine, only occasionally going out and jogging for a couple hours. While I was practicing with friends or by myself, I'd always catch her glancing at me. Always meeting eyes, and pulling apart, resuming what we were doing.
     August 12th, when she went out for her jogs, we talked, for the first time, ever. I was practicing basketball that day, somewhat unfocused because of her presence outside. I was missing shots, here and there. Soon after about two hours, she jogged back into the tiny neighborhood of houses. I took a shot and it bounced all the way to her while she was running by. It hit her head!When I looked at her, she was calm, as usual. She momentarily glared at me and retrieved the basketball. I just kind of stood there, staring at the ground, blushing because of my mistake. Out of nowhere, she runs up and hands me the ball. Cyn was short, extremely short, I was about 5'4" at that time, and she was around 4'7".  I looked down at her, and saw her dark brown eyes stare up into mine. I clumsily took the ball from her, blushing and quietly saying, "Thank you."
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     That was the last of my rendezvous with Cynthia, until 8th grade hit my emotions hard. My chance was yet to come in those three years, but I watched her friends and her. I wanted to know more about her, and in 8th grade, I knew my only chance was to get through one of her friends. That friend that helped me, was Abigail White, she helped me more than anyone could've.