Her Eyes Were Blue

Those Ocean Eyes

I saw her for the first time this morning, a vision emerging from the grayness of the crowded high school courtyard. The splash of color her chestnut hair reflected against the dull stone pavers. The sun reflecting off those piercing blue eyes. But it was the aura around her, the way she carried herself, that captivated me most. It was like she flowed through the crowds in slow motion, her vintage floral dress dancing in the breeze.
No one else seemed to notice her. But for me, the rest of the courtyard blurred into the background when she appeared. Who was this mystery girl? She clutched a journal to her side and had a droplet of silver paint under one sharp fingernail. Her eyes darted around, cautious, as if any moment this dream might shatter. I knew that haunted look in her eyes all too well.
"Wake up, man!" My friend Thomas clapped his hand on my backpack, jolting me out of my daze. The warning bell rang, syncopated beats merging into cacophony. In that split second I took my eyes off her, the girl disappeared again into the halls.
"Who...who is that?" I stammered, my heart racing inexplicably.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Uh who? It's just crowded out here as always, bro. Let's get to English before Mrs. Atwood fills our seats with Toni and her airhead squad again."
Deflated, I let Thomas lead me upstairs toward the English hall. But my mind lingered back in the courtyard, playing detective. I needed to uncover more about this mysterious, beautiful girl that seemed like a ghost. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was a figment of my writerly imagination.
But my gut said she was real. And I intended to find out everything about this haunting vision with the ocean eyes. Little did I realize she would soon turn my world upside down.

I shuffled through the crowded halls in a daze for the rest of the morning, unable to get the girl's haunted blue eyes out of my mind. By fourth period science, I still couldn't focus. I slid into an empty seat at the smudged black lab bench, my feet tap-tapping impatiently.
"Settle down, class," Mrs. Garner sang as she swept into the room, white lab coat flowing. "Before we begin our unit on conservation of mass, I have a new student to introduce." She gestured to the tall figure lagging behind her. Those flowers. That drift of chestnut hair. My breath caught as the girl lifted her eyes hesitantly.
Ocean blue.
"This is Olivia Woods. She just moved here last week." Olivia gave a slight wave before crossing her arms in front of her chest again. Murmurs rippled through the classroom.
"You can take the seat next to Daniel," Mrs. Garner gestured. "He looks thrilled to have a new lab partner." A few people snickered. My cheeks burned but my adrenaline surged as Olivia drifted towards me. Her floral perfume enveloped me.
Up close, everything about her seemed to shimmer. The tiny silver hoop earrings peeking through her long waves. The sheen of pink gloss on her full lips. Even the strokes of blue ballpoint ink flowing across the page of her leather journal entranced me. Mrs. Garner's voice faded to the background. The only thing in focus was the graceful sweep of Olivia's hand as she wrote line after line of slanting script. What poetic thoughts or pent-up feelings compelled her? I yearned to know her inner world. To know her secrets.
Suddenly her eyes snapped to mine, registering my blatant stare. Blood rushed to my face. She furrowed her brow but a hint of amusement flashed. The bell rang and disrupted the moment between us. Around us, stools screeched against the tiles as students escaped their stations. When I turned back, holding my breath, Olivia was already gliding away towards the door, leather journal clutched under one arm.
The next morning I woke extra early, hoping to catch sight of the mysterious Olivia. I waited across from my locker, peering down the main hall through the throngs of bleary-eyed teenagers clutching coffees. At last, a flash of floral print appeared. My already racing heart kicked into overdrive. I tried leaning casually against my locker as she floated nearer. Her bold red lipstick today contrasted wildly with her porcelain skin.
Just ten feet away now when - "Daniel, dude!" Thomas thundered up behind me, his loud voice carrying. Olivia's eyes caught mine for just a second before she disappeared down a side hallway. I slumped, cursing Thomas' notoriously bad timing. He rambled about our teammate Devon breaking his leg over the weekend but I barely heard him over the drum of unanswered questions about Olivia pounding in my skull.
By Friday's English class, I felt utterly consumed by curiosity about my elusive lab partner who probably thought I was a freak. As I fished around in my cluttered backpack for a pen, my fingers grazed the worn leather cover of my journal. Then it hit me. Inside our science textbooks were student information cards that listed addresses.
My leg jittered with anticipation all through Mrs. Atwood's lecture about Shakespearean sonnets. The second the bell rang, I bolted from English and raced upstairs taking the steps two at a time. I arrived gasping outside the science room. Luckily no new class had started yet so I slipped inside unseen to fish through the cupboards lining the back wall. Running my fingers over the textbooks, I found the one marked OLLIE. I smiled, tracing her nickname. Tucked inside was a small white info card neatly filled out in lavender pen.
15 Sycamore Lane. I could hardly believe that intriguing, creative girl was right under my nose this whole time. Olivia lived on my block, just a few houses down. As I carefully returned the textbook, an idea took shape. I knew how I could learn Olivia's real self without scaring her off by being too eager face-to-face. I'd unravel the mystery of her through poetry - her own poetry.
Over the weekend, I wandered past Olivia's house at different hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of her through one of the first floor windows. Finally late Saturday afternoon I spotted her curled up on a white armchair, brow slightly furrowed as she wrote vigorously in a journal with a paintbrush pen. Light streamed over her chestnut waves. The image stirred something protective in me. Before I could think better of it, I was bounding up her porch steps and sliding an envelope with one of my poems through the mail slot addressed simply to My Mysterious Muse.
I crossed and uncrossed my arms over and over as I lingered outside Olivia's front door, wondering if I'd made a mistake baring my soul so transparently. But the part of me captivated by her refused to overthink this. I had to know if her allure was more than just superficial intrigue.
When a whole week passed with no acknowledgement from Olivia about my poem, regret began seeping in. Clearly I'd totally misinterpreted things and she wanted nothing to do with me. I trudged down the hall to science Wednesday in a defeated fog. But when I lifted my eyes towards our lab station, confusion pierced through the gloom. Sitting atop the black marble counter was a single lavender rose tied with a silver ribbon. My eyes darted to Olivia but she avoided my gaze, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. Still, was that a trace of a smile I detected as I picked up the enigmatic gift?
Maybe she did understand me after all. Maybe we were connected by some invisible string of fate tying two kindred creative souls together. The rose's sweet floral perfume infused my world with hope. From that small spark, passion soon ignited into a raging inferno that consumed us both - in the best possible way. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me return to where it really began...
After Olivia's cryptic gift, we settled wordlessly into our lab partnership. Only stolen glances and secret smiles passed between us those first few weeks as we worked seamlessly preparing microscope slides and testing chemical solutions. I relished catching whiffs of Olivia's floral shampoo as she leaned over the microscope, strands of hair escaping her braid. Each brush of her arm against mine while reaching for beakers felt electric.
The day Olivia stayed after class, hovering by my side as I washed our glassware, my heart leapt into my throat. Her melodic voice broke the silence. "Did you mean that poem you wrote me?" I nodded, pulse galloping. She gave a ghost of a smile. "I wrote one back to you. But it's not finished yet." Before I could respond, she breezed away, leaving only her sweet perfume.
From then on, we stayed late after every class under the pretense of needing extra lab time. At first we just read each other snippets of poetry from our journals. I got drunk on Olivia's voice reading her lyrical words with an undercurrent of sadness. In return, her smile sent me reeling when she said my poems had "haunted beauty."
Eventually we confessed our love of writing late into the night and shared our secret ambitions to be published authors one day. In Olivia I found someone whose old soul matched mine. She understood words' and memories' elusive power in a way no one else did. I found myself opening up about my family history and complex relationship with my dad in a way I neverhad before. Something about Olivia's ocean eyes reassured me that confiding my shadows was safe. That she wouldn't run away.
Soon we were staying so late talking that the janitors would find us still perched on stools when they came to clean. We started leaving notes for each other in secret nooks around school - lyrics tucked inside each other's lockers, poems slipped into backpacks. My favorite came one blustery Halloween morning when I spotted a heart etched on my frosted window...inside it said Olivia + Daniel = Soulmates?? I almost leaped over desks to rush outside and find her. I caught her smell still lingering down the empty hall. Definitely jasmine and honey today. From then on her sweet perfume became the scent of budding love to me.