Maria Hart and Noah Williams weren't particularly close. Let's just say "close" wasn't even in their vocabulary. "Unfortunate acquaintances, cosmically bound by the black hole of Mark Anderson's charisma" was closer to the truth.
Now, Mark wasn't merely any regular guy. No. Mark was a walking, talking, teeth-gleaming social supernova. Super handsome, Check. Weaponized charm? Double-check, studious, kind, hardworking? So much check it was practically over drafting on checks. Mark's tall, slim yet athletic frame, along with his dyed brown short wavy quiff makes him look like a runway model.
Nicknamed The Golden Retriever, he was the universal golden child person, the perfect role model your parents and teachers always long for. If someone dropped their stuff, Mark would pick it up. If a teacher needed volunteers, his name magically appeared on the list. He was also on the soccer team, which made things ten times worse. If popularity were a currency, Mark would be single-handedly tanking the global economy with his sheer volume of it. Maria, naturally, was secretly contributing to Mark's economic dominance, operating a low-key, highly unauthorized fan club chapter of one from the shadowy depths of her own heart.
Maria had met Mark back in middle school at cram school, where their friendship started with an exchange of desperate survival pact. Maria, wrestling with math like it was a greased-up octopus... was overjoyed when Mark extended his arms to help her not get math induced existential crisis, in exchange she helped him not fail his art assignment, He needed to not have his art teacher spontaneously combust from witnessing his stick figures, while she needed to not spontaneously combust from calculus. Somewhere between sketching assignments, sine waves and panicked last-minute study sessions, a tiny, almost invisible, probably imaginary crush sprouted in Maria's chest, like a rogue dandelion in a meticulously manicured lawn.
Maria's POV-
Yahoo! Call it luck, fate, destiny—whatever you want. My silent prayers had finally been answered! I got into the same high school as Mark, the first person on Earth for whom I have feelings for- romantically. And that's not even the best part—my best friend is here too!
Math assignment. Festival outside. Empty study zone. Basically, a perfect storm for academic despair. I was wrestling with the sums, pretty sure I could braid ropes out of my own hair in frustration, when suddenly – cue dramatic hero music – Mark appeared. "Hey, chill! Something wrong? Do you need help?" he asked, voice dripping with concern. And wow. Hero wasn't just his actions, it was his face. Picture this- beige-toned skin, tall frame draped in olive T-shirt and black jeans, almond eyes framed by thick, sculpted eyebrows, and a jawline that was somewhere between 'chiseled diamond' and 'romantic heartthrob'. Basically, the ideal crush material. He pulled up a chair, and then BAM! Math magic. Suddenly, those problems weren't brain-melting torture devices anymore. His explanations? Crystal clear, professor-level good, maybe even better. We powered through half a mountain of problems in what felt like minutes. Then the sky opened up – rain. Perfect excuse to ditch the numbers, actually talk, and… well, friendship happened. Just like that....and it took a solid two months of careful observation before I officially upgraded my 'friendship' folder on Mark to 'potential crush material.'
Fast forward three years, and on one fateful day, disaster struck me like a lightning bolt out of a clear, cloudless summer sky.
The day the universe decided to test my sanity levels, had arrived.
During our lunch break, Mark and I were happily strolling through the school garden, chatting away as we enjoyed the ice creams we had just bought from the canteen. The canteen, now a battlefield of hungry students, was packed to the brim—thank god we had lined up early, or we would have been swallowed whole by the crowd. Our conversation was flowing effortlessly. Outside, the sky was a brilliant blue, the weather was warm and golden, the sun beaming down and the scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the air. The occasional, light breeze did little to chase away the lingering humidity. It was one of those rare, and peaceful moments-just two friends enjoying a break from the chaos of school life. Or maybe, it was more enjoyable for me to spend some time alone with Mark. One thing to led to another, causing a casual conversation about our ideal types to surface.
I took a casual bite of my ice cream and, without much thought, threw the question at him.
"Hey, what's your ideal type? Ever thought about it?"
I expected a normal answer—maybe something vague or generic. I swear this was a question I asked without having any ulterior motives. But maybe, just maybe, from a corner of my heart, I wanted know if I was even a bit of his dream girl type. What I did not expect was for Mark to malfunction. The guy literally froze mid-step. Like, full stop. His eyes slightly dazed. Its as if my words had hit him with the force of a lightning bolt straight to the brain.
*Inner monologues would be represented with ' ' (so its easy to understand)