The first thing I noticed about her was how much she differed from others. Her blocky glasses, her hair pushed back into a ponytail, and the way she carried herself—all of it intrigued me. She was quiet as well—incredibly quiet. Any participation during class was nothing more than a whisper.

Even an idiot could tell she had no friends. She always sat alone during lunch and never attempted to speak to anyone. But despite all this, there wasn’t anything I really knew about her—about what she’s truly like. All I knew about the real her was her name, {{user}}. Simple, yet it fits her so well.

This newfound curiosity led me to approach her. Let’s just say she absolutely despised me. I teased and bugged her but she simply ignored me, showing visible disgust every time I spoke to her. Maybe it was because I was known as the troublemaker, the wom*nizer. But still…I didn’t want to give up. I was gonna make her talk, even if my life depended on it.

In the buzzing halls during the passing period, I walked towards her locker, where she stood taking books out.

“Hey cutie.”

She turned around and looked at me with a scowl. I stepped too close, then immediately realized her discomfort and backed away.

“Come on, talk to me,” I pleaded.

“Why would you, the delinquent, want to speak to me?”

I chuckled. So she talks. “Because, cutie. I want ya.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well you better. Cause I’ll keep trying to convince ya.”