Karma ||H.S||

Chapter 37

—Harry—

I'm sitting on the floor in the library, as per usual. School just let out, and here I am avoiding all the idiots this school is inhabited with. Books are scattered around me as I lean against one of the many book shelves, starting a paper that was just given to us yesterday but isn't due until next month.

I'm taken out of the homework trance I'm in, when the door clicks loudly from across the room, indicating someone just walked in. I'm curious as to who is here, since no one ever comes in here after school. I'm surprised when I see who it is, looking over to the rows of computers when she comes into view. 

Paisley Hayes.

She sits at a computer, where I can see her in between two of them. She keeps her eyes forward at the screen as she types a few things, logging into her account I assume. When she peers through the monitors, her eyes meet mine and I look away quickly, not wanting to get caught looking at her.

This is the girl I have been in love with since the first time I laid my eyes on her in the ninth grade. She is, and always has been, the prettiest girl I've ever seen. I've admired her from afar, but fairly closely, for two years now. I like to think I know exactly who she is. I know that she's not like her friends, but she so desperately tries to keep that a secret, for unknown reasons. She's smarter than she lets on. I've seen her grades and heard her lie to her friends about them, which has never made sense to me, but I've always guessed that's just part of the mystery that she is to me. 

I love the way her nose scrunches up and her eyes squint when she laughs. Her laugh is the best sound. It's like music to my ears. Listening to it, makes me smile, every single time I hear it. 

I've never spoken a word to her before. But I'd know the sound of her voice anywhere. I love listening to her talk. I love listening to her hum along to whatever song she's listening to in her headphones, which she constantly does when she walks the halls. It's in moments like that, when she's not with her friends, that she looks the happiest—the most thoughtful. Like she's in her own element and completely content in her own world.

When I look back over at her again through the monitors, seeing as I can't concentrate on this book sitting in my lap because she's here, she is already looking at me. She raises an eyebrow at me and smirks, before slowly standing up and walks over to me.

What is happening? Oh God.

I try not to show how my insides are panicking as she sits down next to me. She sits so close, our sides are touching and I have no clue if I'm dreaming or not. I look at the girl sitting next to me, her face just inches from mine and she smiles.

"Hi, Harold!"

"Uhh, Paisley, um, hi," I stutter like the loser I am, and I want to kick myself in the face.

She giggles at my inability to form a proper sentence. "What are you working on?" She looks through the books I have spilled around me, picking one up about Hitler. "Ah, I was going to do mine on him too, but after a little research, I went with Bin Laden."

"You already did research?" I ask. It doesn't surprise me, but for some reason I act like it does.

She looks at me curiously, as if she's trying to decide what's okay to say to me. "I wrote half the paper already." She smiles as if she's embarrassed and looks down at the book in her hands again. 

"So, did you want something?" I ask. I'm confused as to why she came over here. And why she's talking to me after never having done this before. "Clearly you're not looking for answers for a test, so I just—"