She never feels deserving of the love she wants.
No matter how hard she tries, she can't wrap her head around the thought of someone she likes reciprocating.

This level of self-doubt didn't begin today. She recalls an event in her third grade with keen memory.

His name was Chidi. He was more or less the jock of her grade.

Every girl in the third grade had a crush on him. He came top 3 every term and always had the neatest uniform.

She never spoke to Chidi, at least not until the day she was compeled to.

Chidi had a few goons. One of his favorite was Henry.

Henry had been her crush for a while. More like 3 months. Ever since they had a shared sitting in their 1st grade, Henry had practically fought to sit beside her.

He liked her. That was his way of showing it. She barely looked at him. She couldn't. That was her way of showing her affection.

This story, unfortunately, isn't about Henry. Her love for him faded the moment he hurt her physically. It was also his way of showing affection.

This is about her and Chidi.

On that Thursday, Henry approached her and said Chidi had sent him to her.

"To me?", she asked.
"He says he needs the novel you brought", he said rather coldly.

She got out the novel, gave it to Henry and he walked away.

Chidi refused to give back her novel.
She asked Henry countless times to speak to Chidi on her behalf. He said he wouldn't some days, and on other days he said Chidi left the novel at home.

She needed her book back.

She couldn't speak to Chidi. Her affection towards him terrified her.

As for Chidi, he had his intentions.

You see, Chidi liked her.

Holding onto her novel in hopes that one day she would come to speak to him was his way of showing it.

He stared at her often. He never let her eyes meet him when he did.

He loved how playful and charming she was.
How her natural hair competed in length to other girl's extensions.
He loved how her eye sparkled when she smiled, and how every term she came with a new uniform and she always left at the end of the day with her stockings looking the same way they had first thing in the morning.

He had heard from one of the girls around that she had a novel. He didn't care about the novel, he wouldn't even read it.

He just wanted a chance to speak to her.

On that day, she held her breath while she walked over to his classroom.

His eyes were the first she met.

He let his hands touch hers slightly while he placed the novel in her hands.

She felt the moisturee on skin. She had no idea she brough the heat to him. She just assumed it was due to the humid weather.

I wish this story had a happy ending.

Their love would have been so pure and beautiful.

Their romance would have been filled with so many firsts. From the kiss she often dreamed of, to their first night together at her family's basement right after their senior prom.

She had it all planned out. Fate had better.

A month after their encounter, she moved to a different part of the country with her family.

It took her 8 yearss to finally speak to him again. He told her his side of the story and she told him hers.

They both considered the timing wrong. They will never have their night in the basement.

She never feels deserving of the love she wants.
She feels so unworthy that she settles for love that is beneath her.

I know as much about her as a person knows of herself.

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