Every love has a story. How you first met. Who said the first word.
Even mine does.
Seven o'clock is not the time anyone will think of falling in love. But as our worlds collided, we did just that. In a moment...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER 11
Every first love has a story.
No matter how it ended or if it stayed, one could close her eyes and retell the memories kept within one's heart. A tale from years ago, remembered along.
When Stephen had told me that he liked me, my heart soared. There was happiness within me that I never felt before. As my friends said, there was that stupid smile on my face all the time. I did it knowingly, if I couldn't help myself, and also without even meaning it. For when you loved, it would show.
My head was full of that person. The mere remembrance of his name made my heart beat fast. Every single breath, it was as if I was holding it for him.
Overtime, that person became more significant in my life. I started giving away a part of myself to him. I first let him in my thoughts. Eventually, he had also entered my heart.
And like it had been for weeks now, a word that Stephen would say to me made the whole class go into an instant and synchronized teasing. Even though he had told me that we would avoid the attention, especially since it was making me uncomfortable, he was the one who couldn't help but automatically mutter good morning to me or borrow something from me in the middle of class. In turn, his words to me would always ensure cheers from everywhere, and our awkwardness was not helping the situation.
But ever since we had that out of the moment talk last week, Stephen now looked apologetic than asking. It felt like there had been an unspoken agreement between us.
It was still hard for me to believe that he liked me. But it also seemed to be true. He had set his ground. He made his choice. He actually chose someone like me. Should I tell him that my heart had already picked him on that very first day?
"Are you going home or staying around?" Lily, the girl I'd been acquainted with during our World History project, asked. She had been my cleaning partner for the whole week.
"I'm..." I hesitated. It was Friday, and this would be the fifth time she'd hear me say this, "I'll stay behind for a while."
"Aren't you studying too much?" Lily was amused with my presumed dedication.
I uneasily laughed. "Not really."
"Then I'll go ahead again." With a smile, Lily waved her hand to me and picked up her bag from the desk near the door. "See you on Monday, Micaela."
"See you," I muttered, watching her as she walked out of the room.
I wistfully sighed. With deep breaths, I felt my feet go up and down in place. I wasn't really lagging behind to study, like what Lily had assumed. I was doing something else.
It was only four in the afternoon, so I still had an hour to idle around. Last Monday, I dusted the whole cabinet. For Tuesday, I outdid the janitor by making certain that every corner of our classroom was spotless, including the windows. When Wednesday came around, since I got nothing else to clean, I even thought of purposely messing up the room so that I could have something to do. But I wiped the hinges of the doors instead. On Thursday, after almost repainting the whole room, I blew it again. I couldn't do it. I still didn't have enough courage to perk up and let him know my decision.
