Roses

1

Have you ever seen a rose? One of those beautiful flowers with a swirled bud that may either be white or red or any other pretty color? That describes a girl that I've known. Her name is Sabrina; the popular red headed girl with the deepest blue eyes. She was a rose herself.

She was a red one with stems whenever she was bold and angry, or full of determination. She was a gentle white one whenever she was kind and thoughtful towards someone, like helping someone with answers to a math test. She was a dying rose whenever she was sad or lonely, which now seemed to be her only type of rose.

I've always watched her, not in some creepy stalker way, but in the greatest way possible. I know almost everything there is to know about her, and have much more to learn about in time, whilst I'm just that boy that has gone to the same school as her for almost all of her life. My only wish is to be more than just that boy that attends the same school as her.

I was the shy awkward type. The boy with short black hair and a stubbled chin. I had the most boring brown eyes, when my mother swears they are the most beautiful light brown eyes she had ever stared into. I had dimples that reminded me of holes in my cheeks, while my mother called them extra features that make me look cuter. But they never got Sabrina's attention. I don't think they ever will.

I was now in math class, subconsciously tapping my pencil on my notebook. No, sadly I didn't have any friends to chat with rudely while the teacher was talking. Instead, I only focused on my grades that I found to be a whole lot more important than a life. A life of a complete loser it seemed. I hadn't even had my first kiss yet. What was I to do when I was this low? Read away my problems by imagining I'm this giant buff hero that always gets the girl at the end of the day?

No, sit at home and watch old black and white films while I lounge around in my bed clothes and eat a few bags of marshmallows. Yes, that sounds more like me. Netflix in my mind was the greatest invention, though other guys only used it to get laid, I found it an opportunity for a wide variety of movie choices and shows for a gratifyingly low price each month.

That's the life of me, Trevor Stevens, the guy who is a completely worthless loser. You may say that I talk really low about myself, but I swear I don't. I always wondered how Sabrina thought about herself. I did one time hear her in the computer lab once talking to herself. I was working on a project that was due by my next period, while she was sitting there looking in her small mirror.

"God, I'm hideous. No wonder I have no boyfriend." She mumbled, frowning at her reflection. 'I'm sitting right here,' I thought to myself. 'If only you'd notice me, I could be your boyfriend.'  Though, she never really did notice me.
One of her friends walked into the lab, slinging her bag on the floor next to the chair and plopping down in it, smirking at Sabrina.

"Talking to yourself again. Keep up with that and everyone will think you're crazy, Bri." The girl said, Sabrina immediately snapping her mirror shut in response and stuffing it in her bag.

"You're right. I just... am I pretty, Em?" She asked, her friend scoffing in response.

"Please, you're the hottest in the school! Almost every guy wants to date you!" Her friend said, nudging her arm. "Why are you always so hard on yourself?"

"I don't know, honestly. Maybe I just have a serious case of pointless insecurity." Sabrina sighed, turning on her computer and logging on. Her friend did the same, pulling out her iPhone and snapping a few pictures of herself.

I rolled my eyes, turning back to my computer. Sabrina always seemed so down to earth, while the rest of her friends carried around there head that contained a microscopic brain. It amazed me how easily she put up with them. I'd shoot them in less than a day.
I've never actually told Sabrina how pretty I thought she was. A girl doesn't want to hear 'hot' or 'sexy' unless they dress up. They feel as if when called that, the guy only wants her for her looks. I look much deeper than that. I know that Sabrina is nervous when she scratches her eyebrow. I know she's scared when she cups both hands on the opposite arm. I know she's upset when she purses her lips and drops her gaze to the floor. I see the little things that no other guy would bother scoping out.