Masquerade ✔️

sixteen: nate

Can't see the end of this, just want to feel your kiss against my lips.

I run my fingers over the bracelet again, feeling each groove and ripple in the silver. I've long-since memorized the patterns in the metal, but it helps while I sort through the thousands of Instagram and Twitter direct messages I've received.

It was a simple post, just a picture of the bracelet with a short and direct caption. Lost: one bracelet. belongs to a beautiful girl I've had the pleasure of meeting. serious inquiries only please.

That didn't stop thousands of girls and a fair number of boys messaging me about it.

So that's what I'm doing now, reading the messages people sent or deleting stupid ones. On my laptop, I'm making a list, of the ones I think could be her, along with their handles and the message they sent.

I have an empty word document. None of these people are her.

God, it's been an hour and I'm only halfway done. Sighing, I open a message from an account called @.emilyjane450.

Think it could be mine! ;) message back plzzzzzzzxzxx

Ugh. People these days.

I thumb down the list, settling for looking for the verified accounts. That should narrow down my search immensely.

After five minutes, I find it. The little blue checkmark informing me that the account is legit.

It's from 'noellembp'. Noelle MBP? Is that an acronym. I open her page and find almost 35 million followers. Holy s.hit. She's got a lot more than my measly 7M.

Nate, the message reads. I'd like to talk. My address is 159 Eight Avenue. Top floor. Whenever. Oh, and PS: my world might not be so boring with you.

Holy s.hit. It's her.

Noelle. Her name is Noelle. Her name is Noelle Bellerose, she has thirty-five million Instagram followers, she's a Victoria's Secret Angel and I am ninety-eight percent sure I'm in love with her.

Noelle. I want to shout it from the roof. Her name is Noelle, Noelle, Noelle. I could call her Ellie, or Elle, or Noe, but more than anything in this world I want to call her mine.

Stuffing my phone into my pocket, I get up from my kitchen table and grab my keys and wallet from the counter.

It's her. No question. I'm finally going to meet her, meet her properly, look straight at her and tell her my name. I'm going to give her the bracelet, make eye contact and tell her my name is Nate Sawyer, that I'm twenty-seven years old and that I love her.

Noelle! Noelle suits her. It's a marvellous name, an impossibly perfect name.

I pick up the bracelet, pick up the item that has led me to her and clasp it tightly in my hand as I start to run.

• | •

My knuckles echo on the door, making a sharp sound. God, this is it. I'm going to get to see her. See he face. See her impossibly beautiful face and fall in love.

The door opens, and I'm nearly eye to eye with the girl I think I love. God, she looks amazing. White and black shorts, a white top and a simple ponytail have never looked so amazing. I think my favourite colour is her eyes, the colour of smooth hot chocolate with marshmallow flecks of sunlight shining through autumn leaves.

She's perfect. More perfect and more flawless than I could ever imagine. Each curve of her bone, each molecule in her body is perfect. And I'm in love with her.

Wordlessly, I hold out the bracelet. She smiles a million-watt smile, a smile that could light up all of the world if it worked that way. A delicate, slender wrist is placed in my palm and I carefully clasp the bracelet around her wrist without clipping the smooth skin. She doesn't speak, no words laced with a breathtaking accent come from between her impossibly soft lips.

"Hi," I say, not releasing her hand in an attempt for some closeness. Her hand is soft and small, there's a single ring adorning her middle finger and her fingers are thin and long. "My name is Nate Sawyer. I am twenty-seven years old. I'm in love with you."

She smiles that intoxicating smile again, and is it possible she looks this good standing in loungewear in the doorway to her enviable apartment. Then she gets up on her toes and presses a dizzying, passionate kiss to my lips.

"Hi Nate," She says, looping her arms around my neck and looking directly into my eyes. "My name is Noelle Bellerose. I am twenty-five years old." She takes a long breath before speaking again. "And I think I might be in love with you too."