|01| My First Crush

❇️Six months earlier❇️

Whenever someone asks about my type, I always say the same thing: someone who’s always there.

 Not in a creepy stalker kinda way, but in a head over heels kinda way. Always there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, a chest to breath into and arms to hold me together when I reached my highest point of breakdown. That was all I asked for. And in my mind, 

And in my head, Andy Kane checked every single box.

Maybe it was because he was always there, literally. Right across the neatly trimmed, lawn-clothed street from my house. Or maybe it was because he always seemed to have a smile tucked just beneath his perfectly shaped cupid’s bow lips, like a secret he wasn’t sharing with the rest of us.

Andy Kane was my crush.

Actually, crush feels like an understatement. But I’ll cut myself some slack since it was painfully, tragically one-sided. I seriously doubted he even knew I existed. Still, that morning, I made the very bold, some might say reckless, decision to confess my feelings to him.

Please blame romcoms for this.

The night before, I’d stayed up way too late watching one of those movies where love always works out and awkward girls magically get the guy. Somewhere between the funny scenes and unrealistic plot twists, my mind wandered, as it often did, to Andy.

I imagined our lives once he finally noticed me. How perfect everything would be. He’d moved in next door six years ago, around the time my dad died. Looking back, I think that’s when my unrequited puppy love officially took root.

I loved his hair, always perfectly messy, like he woke up handsome on purpose. His lips. The way his muscles flexed when he walked, completely unaware of the emotional damage he caused. His warm eyes. Honestly, everything about him should’ve been illegal.

My stomach did splits every time he brushed his hands through his golden streaked shaggy brown hair, which was beautiful, just like the rest of him. I knew I was naïve, but I hoped, desperately, that he’d overlook that and pull me into his very perfect, very masculine arms.

Andy Kane was my type.

I clutched the lavender-scented letter to my chest like it was my last will.

“Do you still think this is a good idea?” I whispered to Beck.

We were crouched behind my mum’s SUV in the driveway like criminals planning a heist. I was shaking so badly. I swear my bones were rattling beneath my oversized cashmere sweater.

Beck tilted her head, thinking. “Honestly? I’m not sure. But what I am sure of is that he likes you. Everyone knows boys sometimes need a little push before they confess their undying love.”

She smiled, the kind that usually meant chaos was imminent.

I gulped, hugging the letter tighter. It felt too precious to exist outside my hands. Beck was right. Andy probably just needed encouragement. And besides, I had nothing to lose.

I was leaving for Spain tomorrow.

So the plan was simple: drop the letter, disappear five thousand miles away, and let fate, or embarrassment, sort itself out.

“Okay,” I exhaled. “Let’s do this.”

I adjusted my glasses and started toward his house, my steps unsteady. Beck followed closely behind me, looking more terrified than I felt. I caught the faint, frantic rhythm of her heartbeat and chose to ignore it. I needed courage, not bad vibes.

She grabbed my clammy hand. “This is it, Lisa.”

I pressed the doorbell. The sound echoed like judgment.

I stared at the door. Then at the letter. Then back at the door.

“Nope,” I whispered. “I can’t do this.”

My voice came out squeaky and traitorous. Everything had gone perfectly in my imagination, but standing there in real life? It suddenly felt humiliating. Terrifying. Wrong.

Reality slapped me hard. I dropped the letter at his doorstep and ran. Beck chased after me.

“Hey! What was that for?” she puffed, irritation slipping into her voice.

“I’m sorry,” I said breathlessly, fumbling with my front door. “I’m just not ready to face him yet.”

She stared at me like she’d just witnessed a crime. “I can’t believe we went through all that for nothing.”

“Look on the bright side,” I said, forcing optimism. “He’ll still read the letter. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe later. Either way, I’ll already be gone. And five years from now, we’ll both forget this ever happened.”

Beck collapsed onto the beige sofa in the living room, then slowly lifted the floral curtain at the window.

“Or,” she said thoughtfully, “he picked up the letter, saw your name, and is currently wondering why it ended up at his house, and is now walking over here.”

I laughed. “You make zero sense.”

She stood. “I’m saying Andy just read the letter. And he’s walking toward your house. Right now.”

My laughter died instantly.

I rushed to the window.

There he was.

Andy Kane. Walking toward my house with long, confident strides.

“No. No, no, no.” My face burned. “Do you think he read it?”

Beck bit her lip. “He might have.”

The doorbell rang.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

There was absolutely no way on earth I was answering that door.