Green Apples

Chapter 1

There was once a boy who loved the girl who sat behind him during lunch. He never expected it to happen. In fact, he didn't want it to happen. But he clearly remembered how it happened.

Like any other uneventful lunch time, he sat in his usual place, headphones on blaring Sinatra, drowning the noise around him while he ate his roasted beef sandwich. His usual routine was to eat and get out, but as he unwrapped his sandwich and was about to dive in for a bite, a smell filled his nostrils that rendered him completely immobile. The smell lingered, and the more he took it in, the more he wondered just what it could possibly be, and then he realized what it was - green apples. 

He sat up, and the hair on his neck stood. There was someone behind him, which was strange, for no one ever sat on that table. But today was different. Someone was sitting behind him, and whoever it was smelled of green apples.

He tried to ignore it. He went back to his sandwich. He tried to get lost to Frank crooning in his ear. But the scent of green apples lingered and stuck, and even when he finished his sandwich quicker than he ever did before and literally ran from the canteen, the smell stayed. 

And it never went away.

The next day, he hoped earnestly that whoever it was wouldn't be sitting there again. Then again, he didn't know why he would risk sitting in his usual place again knowing the Green Apple person might be back. Despite this, he sat - and the familiar scent of green apples returned.

His stomach churned. He felt like his heart had jumped to his throat. Why in the world was he feeling like this? It was just a smell. It was absolutely ridiculous that -

Then he saw her.

One thing he had never done was look up, and since he had never done that, he never realized that he was sitting right in front of a mirror. His inner frustration caused him to look up to see who it was sitting behind him, and the boiling lava-like anger inside immediately subsided.

He was looking at the most beauitful girl he had ever seen - and it was no joke. He knew that this had to be the most beauitful girl he had ever seen.

She was facing the same direction he was, and so he had a clear view of her. Glamorous did not fit her, nor could she be descirbed as stylish. She was simple, yet beauitful in every possible sense of the word. As she read her book, her hands twirled the spaghetti with her fork. Her blonde hair flowed down like some sort of waterfall. Her eyes lit up at every word she was reading, and occasionally she would smile and even laugh. And she smelled of green apples.

Maybe it wasn't so bad he was sitting there after all, but he refused to give in. He tried to distract himself again, putting his head down and finishing his sandwich. It was stupid. Crazy. He hated the fact his stomach felt like it was in a knot, and he did his best to keep his head down and his eye on the boring gray table.

But he knew he stil glanced every once in a while.

He knew it was absolutely stupid, but he continued to sit at his usual place, defiantly thinking to himself that this is where he always sat and this was where he will always sit - scent of green apples or not. His male ego thought he could hold it out, push these feelings away, and he basically deceived himself, thinking he could - like any other guy would say - "handle it".

But then one day, a group of girls talked to her and she laughed. And she kept laughing.

And he saw her laugh. And it made her even more beautiful.

And he hated that.

But what's more is that he suddenly felt this urge to remove his headphones, put down Frank Sinatra, and hear her laugh.

He could never do such a thing. He wasn't going to do it. He wasn't. It was preposterous. Why? He didn't know, but it just felt preposterous. He wasn't giving in. He wasn't.

But when she laughed once more, her eyes twinkling and her mouth curling into that beauitful smile, her face actually contorting beautifully - if that was even humanly possible - in her laughter, his hands immediately went to his headphones and history was made: he took them off.

And the sound of her laugh fit her perfectly, for it was as beautiful as she was.

And of course, he hated this.

He told himself over and over and over again that this was ridiculous and weird and that he should stop. How dare he think that a girl like her could ever end up with a guy like him? No one notices him. No one speaks to him. In fact, his life was all about minding his own business, and he liked it that way. And all of a sudden, he thinks it could change because of what? The scent of green apples? A girl that mesmerized him with her laugh? Her smile? The way her hair falls across her face when she's reading and she slowly tucks it back into her ear? The way her mouth curls into a smile when she reads something she likes? The way her -

Darn it.

He couldn't help it. As days passed, he found himself actually looking forward to lunch, no matter how much he tried to deny it - and mind you, he tried very hard. He angrily told himself to stop, only to find himself mesmerized again when she finally sat behind him and green apples filled the air. Days passed and he realized he actually wasn't eating his sandwich anymore, and it had been weeks since he last listened to Sinatra.

And it was then that he finally gave up. He threw the white flag and admitted what he had been trying to ignore all along.

He loved the scent of green apples, and he was hopelessly in love with her.

To be continued...