her love

01 : notice

Kaden Pierre Vaughn used to be a heartthrob. Not a single person in school could deny their attraction towards him. Even the hard-to-get girls with the toughest mindsets could be made to willingly admit that they admired him. Even if a little, it was there.

But there was something that made everyone hold themselves back, from speaking to him or even looking at him: his past. Although he was very attractive, he was just that boy the freshman girls giggled about, that boy everyone in the hallway whispered about, that boy that people only stared at with curiosity in their eyes. No one approached him, and he barely had any friends. He was quiet and kept to himself, a mysterious aura constantly surrounding him. If he ever showed up at a party, the party was considered fucking awesome.

Well, all of this was two years ago. Sophomore year.

Now it's senior year, and ever since the incident, Kaden Pierre Vaughn had transformed into only a shadow at Carlton High.

But I was planning on changing that.

🌹

I'm late, I think as I rush towards the small classroom at the end of the west hall.

I dodge everyone and quickly get to my locker first, and open it to collect all the letters and scraps of paper that students have slipped inside. After stuffing them into my small floral backpack, I hurry towards my destination.

Breathing heavily, I barge in and halt at the door, my hand on my chest as my eyes search the quiet, empty room. I notice someone, small and dressed in black, sitting on one of the tables at the back. I exhale deeply as I slowly make my way towards them, pushing the loose strands of my brown hair behind my ear.

"Elise, is it?" I ask softly.

The girl looks up at me with wide blue eyes and I realise she's one of the foreign exchange students from last semester; a freshman. She has dead-straight spiky blonde hair that cover most of her pale face and falls past her slumped shoulders. I vaguely recall that she's Russian.

"I'm sorry I'm late love, but my name's -"

"Belle, right? Wow you- you're really pretty," she whispers shyly in a soft Russian accent, her eyes widening a little more as she stares at me a bit longer. My heart warms at the compliment. I smile at her before putting my bag beside me on another desk and sitting down next to her.

"That's so kind of you to say, but I'm not half as beautiful as you are! What did you want help with love?" I say.

"Um, well, there's this girl in my class..."

And this is what I do. I'm not a social butterfly, or the most popular, or the beauty queen. I'm support. I'm the person who almost about everyone in this high school come to when they need to talk or rant or make a confession. They ask me for advice and help, through letters and meetings and phone calls. And although I don't get paid or anything, their smiles at the end if everything works out is worth it.

As long as I can help bring some happiness into anyone's life, I'm ready to do it.

Elise tells me about how confused she is about her sexuality and how she is badly crushing on someone in her class. She tells me that no one approaches her because of her gothic appearance which intimidates them. I offer her my best advice, some simple words of encouragement and a promise to help if it doesn't work to talk about her feelings to the girl. I tell her to take it slow and steady, give her a hug and make her promise to give me an update on things later. Then, I rush out again and get to my first class.

As I realise what class I have, my steps slow down a bit. My heartbeat is already speeding up. I walk carefully as I get to the room just a few seconds before the bell can ring. I halt, take a deep breath, and walk in.

The combined noise of chairs and desks scraping against the tile, and the chatter and laughs of students fills my ears. As usual, nobody pays attention to me. Which is fine, by the way. But then, I slip in between the students and move towards the desks at the back. And I look up, and he is there.

My breath stops. He's not looking at me, or anyone, or anything. He never is. He's always staring off into the distance, his eyes always lost and dark, emotionless. But he is beautiful. He is amazing, and he doesn't even see it.

It's a wonder he doesn't know how wonderful he is.

He's Kaden Pierre Vaughn, and he is my first crush in the 17 years of my existence.

I don't crush easily. It's quite a well-known fact, especially to the boys who've tried to ask me out. I have never, and I mean never been romantically interested in anyone. I don't know when I started to like Kaden, but I knew I wasn't obvious about it. I'm very good at hiding my feelings.

One day, I caught him smiling. It was small, and didn't look very real, but it wasn't forced. I couldn't forget that image of his smile for the rest of the day.

The next day, I met his eyes. They sparkled, specks of gold mixed with brown. They were like pools of bronze and gold. I thought about them before I went to sleep that night.

And then the next, I saw him pick up an injured puppy and take it to the animal shelter. In the pounding rain, a thunderstorm. And I remember as I watched him, clothes soaked and walking towards his house, a thunder bolt struck in the sky. And along with it, I was struck too. I felt my heart melt.

And then, it was undeniable. I liked him.

Kaden's been through a lot. But I don't believe in anything I've heard, I'll only believe what he'll tell me. If he wants to, if it comes to it. I'm dying to know and I'm dying to help him, but only if he asks for it.

All he needs to do is reach out, and say the word, and I'll give my all to make him smile.

Who knew that that very day, after school, Kaden would finally say the word.