"She's my honeydew. Sweeter than most, and the best in every way."
---
Jealous, grumpy, and glaring Ryland Andrews needs a little sweetness in his life, and who better to give it to him than his crush of 6 years.
Bubbly, talkative, and a little too...
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Ryland's POV
I'm going to fucking kill them.
I look over to see Lennon and Tommy smiling widely and the glare on my face only gets deeper.
Bastards.
"So, ready to go... Ryan?" Tommy crosses his arms with a smirk and I squeeze my eyes shut at the name.
She didn't even know my name.
The girl I have loved religiously for years doesn't even know my name. To be fair, it is my fault because I've never dared to actually go up to her, but still.
Shit hurts.
Ignoring them, I address a bigger topic. "I'm not doing the newspaper." My tone communicates finality but I can feel Lennon's persistence coming before she even says anything.
"Hell no."
I let out an exasperated sigh and start walking over to the chips aisle, Lennon following closely behind me.
"You have to do it, Ry. You've been too fucking scared to talk to her for forever. Honestly, it's getting pathetic."
I stay silent, attempting to busy myself with choosing chips.
"She didn't even know your name Ryland. Your name. You can't tell me you have and will remain satisfied with her barely acknowledging you."
Lays could be good.
"She's meant the world to you since I've known you. You have to stop being afraid of her. She's a sweetheart, you know that better than anyone else. I mean, of course you do, you've been obsessed with her for years, but still."
"Don't you want to know her up close?"
I feel myself tense at her last sentence. Of courseI want to know her up close.
"Just join the paper. It can't hurt your résumé, and you'll have an excuse to get to know her."
"I already know her." I say, my voice coming out tighter than I wanted.
"No, you don't." I turn to see Lennon shaking her head at me, her tone reciprocating my own frustration.
"There's definitely more to that girl than you think."
***
Wednesday.
Specifically, the day after yesterday. The day Lizzie told me to stop by and officially join the school newspaper.
I caught a glimpse of her at lunch. Hair back in a bun with one of those green clips, pretty white skirt, green cardigan over a white collared shirt.
Holy fuck.
She shines. She's always fucking shined, and except for the occasional bitch, I have no idea why more people aren't head over heels for her.
My leg bounces and I fidget with my pencil as I zone out of math class, thinking about what she'll say.
