(James)
I live just a couple blocks away from her and as I passed by, I peep to look at her window. I know which one is because I saw her a couple of times whenever I cross this street. I didn't intentionally look into it tho (I'm not a stalker or a creep) but it felt like I'm drawn to it. Her curtains are not drawn and it felt strange, wrong or something, I can't point out why. Then the picture of you a week ago flash through my mind. I felt a cold breeze past through me like an omen or something. It felt like I needed to do something, make a move of some kind.
It was not long after that I found myself standing at your door punching through the door bell.
Weird, why am I doing this? What am I going to say to her? to her dad?
The first time I met you, you were sitting at the very end of the library. Books at your table were stacked in a meticulous manner. Your head's bent down scanning and carefully handling the spine of the book you were reading.
I look at you filled with wonder. How can someone dare to read at the farthest part of the library? It was the dimmest part and no other people other than you dared to explore and dwell in that place.
Wondering how many steps I would have to take to pass through you, I slowly traverse making my way towards the narrow hall in your direction.
You seemed oblivious about how spectacular you are. You kept on reading. Digging deeper and deeper into the contents of the book. Page by page, you scan each phrase with such cynical look. A strand of hair fell over your face, and I watched as your fingers push it back behind your ears. Your eyes moved left to right with modest and innocent glimmer from your eyes.
You look up and I saw a hint of surprise in your glare. You have a pair of pretty hazel eyes. Your lips are plum red and the freckles on your face looks like stars mimicking the wonders of the night skies. Your seemingly soft curly hair fall over your ears as you slowly tilted you head to stretch your neck. You are beautiful. It took me a second to realize you were looking at me with questioning eyes.
"You want something?" you asked.
My heart is racing, what could I possibly say to you without being too weird. Well, I need to come up with something.
"I am looking for the books about contemporary arts, could you happen to know where to find it?"
You paused looking down in your book like the answer is something that was written in there. Finnaly, you look up again to meet my eyes.
"If you were really looking for it, you could just ask the librarian" you said pointing pass me to the old lady in the table.
"Well, uhmm you got me, I'm actually sad sitting alone. Mind if I join you?
"Sorry but I can't concentrate when I'm around people, you can find another one to sit with tho"
I smiled, acting like it didn't sting. I walk away and out the library with broken heart and dignity.
Who was that girl? What's with her?
That was my first rejection. James Marker, 20 years old, former prom king of Shelbourn High and Current Softball super star just got rejected for the first time. Although it shattered my ego, it was nonetheless, wonderful.