Chapter 3. Why Would He Approach Me?

It’s a universal truth that a girl takes a long time to strike up a conversation with someone she has a crush on. She applies all the filters and presents the most attractive, sexy, graceful, compassionate, famous, and feminine version of herself.

However, in my instance, I spoke with him the very first time I ever saw him. And now I even mocked him, revealing the silliest, tomboyish side of myself. I guess this clarifies why I’ve never got a boyfriend.

The following day, Mr. Fitzgerald discussed Marilyn Monroe’s love letter to Joe DiMaggio in our literary class. Such a lovely and seductive letter, I must say. That letter was poetically crafted in every word. I just wanted to drown in those words and let the feelings wash over me.

Suddenly, someone threw me a paper ball.

Inside it was written, “Hey :)”

I turned around to see who had written this to me. It was the new guy. He gave me a wave along with a bright smile, which was extremely pleasant, energetic, and lovable.

I waved back and grinned subtly.

He scrawled something again on a sheet of paper before tossing it in my direction.

“That day, you departed unexpectedly. Are you mad at me because of the backpack?”

I gave a slight ‘No’ head shake and concentrated on Mr. Fitzgerald.

I don’t like being interrupted while I’m studying, especially when I’m reading romantic literature.

Additionally, I was a little upset about the backpack. Seeing someone having the thing that you desperately wished for can make you feel a little upset.

“Okay. That’s all for today. I want you guys to compile the ten most exquisite, poetic, and exciting love letters ever sent by a famous person.” We had homework from Mr. Fitzgerald.

After the class, that new guy approached me and asked, “Hey, are we cool?”

“Yup! We’re totally cool. Why wouldn’t we?” I gave him a shoulder tap.

“So why did you leave so abruptly yesterday?” he asked with his arms crossed.

“Ha-ha. I was kinda embarrassed to bitch about that filthy, obnoxious, rich jerk who turned out to be you.”

Stupid me! Why must I bring up ‘filthy, obnoxious, rich jerk’ when I can simply decline it and go on to the next topic?

Oh no, I’m sure he will hate me even more. I should stop hanging out with Jenna. It’s all her influence that I’m too straightforward with boys.

He scrunched up his nose and forehead together and replied, “You are really funny and different.”

I gave him an awkward smile.

After a protracted awkward silence, he gently grabbed my hand with his big, warm hand, dragged me out of the hallway, and stopped near his car.

“Hey, what happened? Why did you drag me out? Why are we in front of your car?” I asked while adoring his Buggatti Divo.

Buggatti Divo. Buggatti’s first coach-built hyper sports car of the 21st century. The rear end with a 3D printed grille and carbon fiber roof, which is shaped like a NACA air duct. The sleek, futuristic headlight design.

He must be really wealthy to own this masterpiece, I wondered.

“I owe you an apology, and I heard that the best way to apologize to someone is to take them to a theme park,” he answered.

“Really? Who said that?” I giggled.

He came beside me and whispered in my ear, “The guy next to you.”

Butterflies! I can feel them. Not just in my stomach but throughout my heart, lungs, and kidneys as well.

“Ladies first,” he said as he opened the car door for me.

This aroma in his car. I know this – Savage by D’or. Fresh, powerful, and mysterious luxury car fragrance that imparts a sensual, masculine aroma. Based on a well-known eau de parfum for men and inspired by the desert at twilight, it has an instantly recognizable aroma. Noah Greyson, aka Christine’s boyfriend, also has the same car freshener.

I still remember; he wouldn’t stop boasting about it till we got home.

Noah and I are childhood friends. He sometimes drives me home at my mom’s command. But since he started dating Christine, we hardly ever spoke.

I assumed, like any other teenage boy, he would take us to a Disney theme park where we could enjoy cotton candy and ride a Ferris wheel. But, surprisingly, he took me to a superhero theme park.

I still doubt why he cared about me so much. I mean, why would such a tall, handsome, rich, sexy, intriguing boy approach such a short, tomboyish, geeky girl like me?

Or perhaps he is the kind of guy shown in movies who chooses his woman based on her heart and interests rather than those shallow external beauty standards?

Today was the best day of my life. On the one hand, I got to hang out with my crush; on the other hand, I got to experience such a cool superhero theme park.

We ate Venom-inspired black cotton candy, rode the Batmobile, went to the New Asgard, had Infinity Conez, played Sonic games, painted the Hulk tattoos on our arms, brought Morbius fangs, read Iron Man and Deadpool comics, and had a lot of fun.

We dressed up like superheroes and took pictures. I wore a Black Widow’s costume, and he wore a Homelander’s. We had such a remarkable day.

While searching for other comic books, when our hands simultaneously landed on Deadpool: Bad Blood #3, we even had an eye-locking moment.

“Oh! Do you want this? Here, you can have it.” He returned the book with a gentle smile.

Having a tall boyfriend is so beneficial. I was straining to get the comic book from the top shelf, and he came behind me.

I could smell his perfume.

He extended his lengthy arms, reached for the book, and remarked, “Wow, The Unbelievable Gwenpool #14! Great choice!”

Although I wanted to hold my breath, the scent of that perfume was so alluring that I couldn’t help but inhale deeply.

Oh my God! He must think of me as a weirdo.

After having the most wonderful time at the theme park, he dropped me off at my home.

“And here we go, have a good night, Amy.” He bent down to assist me in releasing the seatbelt.

I’m speechless. I’m hopeless. I’m breathless.

He was so close to my lips; his hazel-eyed glance at my lips was enough for me to lose control. To shield myself from his seductive gaze, I shut my eyes.

“I took it off,” he whispered in my ear.

“What? What did you take off?” I slid my eyelids open.

“The seatbelt,” he answered.

God! I hate my mind.

In my bed, while blushing and thinking back to our interactions, I was researching the top 10 most beautiful love letters sent by famous people. Ernest Hemingway to Marlene Dietrich, Frida Kahlo to Diego Rivera, George H.W. Bush to Barbara Bush, and many more.

The following night, I read two hundred and fifty-six love letters. Everything written in those romantic letters was suddenly so relatable. I would feel their words and understand the meaning behind them.

The next morning, as usual, Jenna and Duke picked me up from home.

“Hey, girl, where were you yesterday?” Jenna asked.

I blushed. “I was with that new guy,” I replied.

“Holy Moly! That tall guy?” Jenna asked.

“Yeahhhhh,” I replied with a gleam in my eye.

“Why would a guy like him hang out with a girl like you?” Duke interrupted.

“The same reason why Jenna is dating a loser like you,” I added as I gave him a quick glance.

“You mean for the long-lasting heavenly sex?” Jenna interrupted.

“Jenna! Remember, you are supposed to be my best friend first and then his girlfriend,” I replied while tying my hair.

“I’m your best friend. I’m just stating the facts. I’m with Duke because he is so good on the bed.” While responding, Jenna patted Duke’s cheeks.

“Liar! You said you love me,” Duke interrupted.

Jenna smiled seductively and said, “Well, yeah, I do love you, but the real reason I accepted your proposal is that I heard the rumor about you being fantastic in bed.”

“Thanks to my D, I got to date this goddess,” Duke retorted with pride.

“Guys, that’s gross! I’m still in this car,” I gave a disgusted response.

“But in all honesty, I still don’t understand why he would show so much interest in you. I mean, yeah, you are an amazing person. But he seems to be the type of person who dates women based solely on appearance. He wants everything to be designer and branded. Just look at his car, clothes, watch, and backpack,” Jenna replied.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps he is tired of braggadocio and is now craving something raw and real,” I defended him.

“God! You’ve just known him for a day, and you’re already defending him,” Duke interrupted.

“Anyway, I hope you are right, and I’m wrong. I simply want what’s best for you,” Jenna gave solace.

“Oh my goodness, true friends.”

“By the way, why didn’t Ariana join us today?” Duke asked in a worried manner.

“Oh! She caught the flu. She won’t be joining us until she recovers,” I replied.

In literature class, Mr. Fitzgerald praised me for my research on love letters. I turned to look for the new guy, but he wasn’t there. I was down. I wanted him to see Mr. Fitzgerald praising me.

Mr. Fitzgerald is a highly demanding professor. He rarely uses polite language with anyone. However, he praised me, and it meant a lot to me.

At the canteen, Jenna and Duke ordered burritos.

For me, I brought grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from home. It’s the tastiest and simplest sandwich recipe. The aroma of melty, warm peanut butter and delicious jelly makes it even better.

Noah and I used to have this almost every day when we spent vacations at my grandma’s house.

My relationship with Noah was particularly peculiar because both of our grandmothers were great friends and lived in the same area. Therefore, whenever I went on vacation to see my grandma, he tagged along with me.

The new guy and his friends walked into the cafeteria. He was wearing a blue ‘Star Wars’ printed cotton jersey with ribbing around the neckline.

God! What’s the connection between blue and boys? A little bit of blue makes them appear more appealing and handsome.

He approached the counter with his friends to place an order.

Being a good friend paid me off. I mean, I could have sat down and eaten my grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I was waiting for Jenna and Duke’s order. So, I got a reason to chat with him while I was waiting for Jenna and Duke’s order at the counter.

I said, “Hey, I didn’t see you in literature class.”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Fitzgerald. I didn’t do his homework. I was tired yesterday, so…” He gave a soft smile.

“Yeah, I was tired too. But it was so much fun yesterday,” I replied.

“Well, I bet you were scarcely tired,” he added while ordering French fries.

“Pardon?” I interrupted.

“Nothing. I just heard a rumor that Mr. Fitzgerald praised you for your outstanding research on love letters,” he replied.

“Oh, no! It wasn’t that difficult. Being exhausted didn’t stop me from doing it because it was enjoyable to do,” I caressed him lightly.

“Really? Is it that simple? I fell asleep while working on that assignment yesterday. How can you have fun with it?” he responded.

“Well, it’s all about feeling the word and extracting the true meaning behind it. It’s not that hard. If you want, I can summarize certain letters for you. You won’t believe it, but last night I read two hundred and fifty-six love letters,” I replied with pride.

“TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX LOVE LETTERS?!” he replied with a look of amazement.

He took his French fries, stuffed two of them in my mouth, and added, “Meet me at the library after school.”