Kavi One Shots

Secret Admirer

**high school kavi**

Kirstie Maldonado's POV

"What is it? Isn't that like, your fifth one this week?" Mitch asked in awe, taking the now empty envelope from my hands and examining it, as if he could figure out who sent the lovely messages to my locker.

"No, the fourth. I'm starting to think they'll send one every day," I smiled, then started to read the letter.

Kirstin Maldonado —
You're beautiful
You're funny
You're so interesting
Unfortunately we could never be together as we are different,
and I hold a secret you can't know about or else it would reveal my identity, which I could not allow
I'm sorry, forgive me.
But I feel as if we would be nice together.
You're not my type, everyone says...
And maybe they're right.
Love,
Your secret admirer

"That's so cute!" Mitch exclaimed. I blushed at the messages, but my heart ached at the end. "You're not my type, everyone says. And maybe they're right," I repeated out loud. "That's so sad. I would love to know who sent these messages. I really would," I sighed, blowing a piece of blonde hair out of my face.

"You would, huh? Would you like to find out with me, then?" he asked with a smirk. I looked at him curiously, "And how would you do that, Mitch?"

"I mean, we could stay after school to find out who sent them," he shrugged. "It seems simple. Want to? Or are you gonna do whatever thing you girls do?"

"I don't have practice tonight, so I can, but I feel like that would betray their trust, Mitch. I feel like I'd be invading their privacy. They want to stay hidden."

"No they don't. Look," he said, pointing to a certain part of the letter. "Unfortunately," he emphasizes.

"God, you're overthinking it, Mitch," I sighed. "But fine. We can, but if he—or she, but hopefully he—gets mad at me, I'm so blaming you."

"They won't get mad at you," he tried to assure, but I didn't know about that.

***

"Kirstin!" my teacher exclaimed angrily. "Pay attention or get detention," he joked. He was one of those amusing teachers but would get really sentimental or mad at times. Mr. Carey was by far one of my favorite teachers. "Of course. Sorry," I smiled sweetly, which easily made him nod and some of the girls next to me scoff. I looked around and there were a lot of people looking at me, which wasn't a surprise. I was one of the most liked girls in the school, fortunately.

One boy in particular caught my eye. He was wearing a black tshirt and some same-colored jeans. His hair was dark but his eyes were bright and green, but the more he moved, the more colorful they began to look. He stared at me but quickly continued to looking in the book beneath him. It wasn't a very good cover up, since the book was upside down. Poor guy.

I smiled at him once he looked up from it, a light blush appearing on his cheeks. I slightly waved, then looked back up to the teacher when he was about to look back at the class.

I felt the boy's gaze on me. I had never seen that boy before—I'm pretty sure he was new. I know everyone, and I didn't even recognize him. Or maybe he was one of those kids that stay in the quiet to avoid the gossip of the school, I know I used to be one. It was lonely, but it was nice not being involved in it. And yet now I am.