Title: Watching, Waiting, Loving

Rating: T

Genre: Romance

Summary: He watches her, waiting for her gaze to stray across his, always loving her, this mysterious girl whose name he did not know. A Collection of One Shots

Notes/Warnings: A Collection of One-Shots and Drabbles; no happy endings included; nameless characters

---

Watching, Waiting, Loving

I: Study Hall

The first time he set eyes on her, the first time she met his gaze, was in October, at the after school study hall. He had been slumped over on the table, without much of any interest to the others around him until she came in. He didn’t know where she had been, only that she was there: a hazel-eyed brunette with a sleek way of moving.

As soon as she settled in the chair across the room, directly across from his table, he could not keep his eyes off her. He stared, unashamed, and she must have felt his eyes on her because, as she messed with her iPod, she looked up and stared back before looking away quickly, blushing. He liked that blush. It was a gradual one that started across her cheeks and over her face. And still, he stared. She would flick a look to him every once in awhile, curious and seemingly confused by his attention.

After study hall, he blended in with the other students that waited for the buses, watching his friends, but also keeping an eye on the girl. She was so quiet, and alone that night; she did not seem unhappy of that fact, however. There were a few people she smiled at in greeting, so he supposed she must simply have more acquaintances than friends. Her attention was mostly fixed on her iPod and her eyes moved over the students around her with a casual, analyzing gaze. He wished she would look at him.

And she did.

As he had become aware of her, she had become aware of him. They were not so far away in the foyer of the high school. He was at the benches in the middle of the room and she stood leaning against the wall across from it. Every once in awhile, she would brush her long, auburn hair from her face that was fair-skinned and welcoming.

Perhaps they had passed each other in the hall before, but had never been aware of it. After that night, he saw her often in the halls, and he never averted his gaze and she rarely did, either. He discovered that she came to school early, for he always saw her coming from the junior hall around seven-fifteen, the time he arrived. She took the same route he did after third period, exiting the math hall. There had been times he had been so close to her during that time he could have reached out and touched her. He wasn’t sure whether she had lunch at the same time as he did, because he would see her go through the cafeteria, but never saw her around. He suspected she went down to the locker rooms for gym.

She didn’t always go to the after school study hall; he had been forced to by his teachers so he saw her every time she did go. And then came a time when he dared himself to speak to her. She rode the same bus as him and he sat in front of her, as the seats in the back were all filled. She was oblivious to him and his friend that sat next to her. He finally heard her speak up close when his friend asked to sit with her. Her voice was soft, feminine and lovely, like a singer’s.

And off-hand, he asked her a one-sentenced question, piercing her with his intense gaze. It had been a casual question, just, “Do you know him?” referring to his friend. After she answered, with a slight shake of her head, and a smile, “No,” she returned to her iPod. He turned back to his friend, reluctant, wanting to hear more from that voice and the girl whose name he didn’t know. He wanted to be the one to sit with her, to take in the lulling perfume that was barely there, the hint of her shampoo from her long hair, her lotion – anything! – just so that he had something to attribute to her.

He never was given a chance to speak to her again, but they continued to pass each other in the hall, never speaking with words, but with gazes. The only time he had ever touched her was when he dropped a dollar and she, just a bit behind him, stepped on it. Embarrassed and stumbling, he groped beneath the leather high heel for the dollar, silently taking in the soft flesh of her foot that peeked out beneath her pant leg and how slender and long her leg seemed to be, stretching upward for miles.

But he knew, like every person knows when it’s so obvious, that he could never have her. They were from two separate worlds almost. She was quiet, but well-liked, he was sure. She was intelligent: it was obvious by the sparkle in her eyes. She was elegant and confident in the way she walked and moved. He was none of these; he was loud, but liked, with no real possession of smartness. He was sloppy and unrefined and he knew it. Even more glum was that he was a sophomore and she was a junior. There were two juniors in the whole class that were dating sophomores. He wouldn’t believe that she would date a lower classman.

Sadly, he realized that even though he didn’t know her – not her name or anything – he had let himself fall in love with her. Maybe those glances she passed to him had connected them somehow, but all he could think about was yearning for her more and more every day, knowing he couldn’t have her, knowing that she might have someone else better than him.

Even so, he would keep watching. He would keep waiting. And most of all, he would keep loving her.

I: Finis