Maybe This Is Love, |✔️

Chapter 4

The air was hot and stuffy which was quite unusual for an Autumn Friday afternoon out here. I begin to regret wearing this long-sleeved grey flannel shirt I found in my 'clean' pile; the one that made my forearms really itchy. I really need to re-evaluate my wardrobe choices.

The sun hits my face as I sit on the stool beside the bins. A part of me was hoping that Parker would appear out of nowhere again and want to talk to me again. I skipped going to Tracy this week, the nerves about tomorrow with Parker would probably make me spill everything to her and I wasn't ready for her to start psychoanalysing me or him yet.              

I relax against the cold metal surface, eating my maraschino cherries and completing an essay on whether Hamlet was destroyed by his impulsiveness or by his uncertainty. If I wasn't too careful I'd end up just like Hamlet, afraid and alone.

It wasn't as if I was getting much done anyway as the image of Parker was circulating in my head every five seconds. Everything still feels too good to be true and I just don't get it. Why do I feel less anxious around him of all people? It's as if someone has put some kind of spell on me.

Another part of me wants to just relish this moment and silence the voice in my head that's led me to believe that I'm not good enough to be anybody's friend. Whenever I feel the wave of self-deprecating emotions, I remind myself to do my daily mantras as if they even help.

I'm just glad someone finally noticed me and what are the odds that that person would end up being someone as genuine and funny as Parker.

The lunch bell rang and I ignore it. I'm terrified of entering the canteen. The last time I walked into a lunch hall was at the beginning of year 9, a little while after Papa died.  

I was going through a rough patch, I felt like I was under some kind of microscope where everyone was judging me for having eyes that were always red and puffy or scrutinising that my hair was always a complete mess. Even though no one knew about my father's death at that point- or even knew me- I still felt like I was being watched and I've always hated being the centre of attention.

The feeling turned out to be too overwhelming and I had a panic attack in the middle of the lunch hall. They had to call the school nurse and ask two year 11 boys to help escort me to her room and calm me down. Now I'm in year 12 and needless to say, I've never been back.

The bell for the end of lunch period was about to ring so I got up and dusted the dirt off the front of my jeans.
No Parker today, I guess.

Just as I was packing my things away, a gorgeous floppy-haired boy appeared from around the corner, visibly out of breath.
This was the same boy in the BHS tracksuit that was waiting for Parker the first time I met him.

"You're Harley-Blair, right?" The boy, who I now recognised as Zacchias Tovi, asks with a shy smile on his face. I have never spoken to him before so it came as a surprise to me that he even knew my name.

I eye him as I nod slowly. What did he want?
Zacchias was the captain of the Swim team. He was taller than Parker which was crazy in itself and athletic with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. He had naturally tanned olive skin with an array of freckles on his nose and a small beauty mark above his perfectly shaped lips.

Was every boy in this school just ridiculously good-looking?

He was practically attached to Parker's limbs; they went everywhere with one another. He was a part of the group of people who had a higher social ranking than everyone else; the people you naturally think of whenever the elites of BHS are spoken about.

He hangs around with Cassie Thomas and Sander Eke and he was dating the most beautiful girl in school- Jasmin Jelani but I could tell they weren't as heartless and mean like everyone assumed they were. In the past year, he's held 6 drives collecting canned foods and clothing for young homeless people and mothers. He was the only person who would smile at me in the hallways (apart from Parker) even if it was passing, fleeting ones.