• If there ever was a time in my life I opened up my mind to new experiences, it would be this, the senior year in high school. I wanted to drain myself of all my childish tendencies before I was expected to be an adult. Sure, it seems a bit melodramatic, but I assure you it was worth every bit.
    Well, almost.
    I met Thomas Hardin in my senior year. He was the exchange student from England, and I still wonder why he came as an exchange student. Are our cultures that tremendously different?
    Thomas was amazing, foreign, fresh meat. He was lean, pallid, and had beautiful golden hair. He had this amazing accent that girls fawn over, and best of all, he was in my class.
    Our classes were divided in alphabetical order, and we switched classes throughout the day, but the students remained the same. We might as well have a single-file line like in grade school.
    My name, Melissa Holly, got me the indirectly perfect seat, with a great view at the back of his head.
    To my dismay, Isabelle Hart, sat in the mystical desk juxtaposed to his. The rest of the school’s female population didn’t mind though. It was a well known fact that Isabelle was too focused on her studies to even lighten up and party every once in a blue moon. Apparently, she had a lifelong dream to be accepted into Harvard, or some other high-end university.
    She was pretty, in her own little nerdy way. Nonetheless, I would not be seen talking to her.
    Not that I was in the popular ring. Not at all. I had a few friends who were, and thus I was considered popular to the other students, but it wasn’t like I tried.
    I preferred to be noticed by guys, not criticized by the vicious minds of girls.
    The fact that I looked pretty amazing was a big benefactor to my boy hunt. I was 5’ 8”, had long blonde hair [no blonde jokes please], and green eyes. I had a somewhat natural tan, if tanning beds are natural. I went in for a tan and manicure every three weeks. Donna, the manicurist, deemed it necessary to fill me in on her divorce, and trial to keep her children. In all actuality, that’s the most excitement that there is in this town.
    The day it started was Tuesday, November 8. That was the day the exchange students came in, and a day our whole school looked forward to every year. They threw a large pep rally, which is kind of ridiculous, since exchange students are trying to see how America is like normally. Not what we’ve gilded ourselves to be.
    We only had two exchange students that year. Thomas was from England. Masha was from Russia. They were polar opposites, and I couldn’t see how they managed to ride in the same vehicle, nonetheless come to the same god forsaken town.
    I was assigned to show Masha around. See, no destined encounters, tying my future to his. Not that I didn’t kind of wish for that. I think the school preferred boys to escort boys, and girls-girls. They were doing their best to separate us, and instead led us to hide when it came to affection.
    They probably encourage a couple of people to come out of the closet.
    I led her around, naming the different buildings, telling her what teachers to sit in the back of class in, which lunch ladies give you extra servings, and what days to seriously avoid the principal.
    She didn’t talk the entire time, other than a few “oh”’s and a couple “mhm”’s. I felt as if she’d rejected me from the beginning, but then attributed it to shyness. I was sure she’d be like that with everyone for a few days.
    She proved me wrong, when she walked up to a group of my friends, and introduced herself. My friends looked at me as if I’d unleashed an insane asylum escapee on them. We tried to shake her off the entire day, followed by a week, and by the end of the month, she had weeded her way into another group.
    She was a very butch girl, slightly chunky, but she had rosy cheeks, and a toothy smile. She was definitely not as intriguing as Thomas.
    After a month, I finally talked to Thomas, who had caught the mainstream by chance, and became more popular than our quarterback.
    “Hi,” I chirped, before the bell rang for the beginning of fourth period.
    He smiled politely, and held out a hand.
    “Hello,” he returned.
    I shook his hand, which was only slightly larger than my own, and turned back forward in my desk. I gasped for a steadying breath, since I wasn’t good at meeting new people, or being the one to initiate conversation.
    “How are you?” he continued.
    “I’m great,” I spouted, and immediately regretted. It sounded stupid. “I-I mean I’m fine.”
    He nodded slowly, as if listening to a child explaining something that never took place.
    “That’s great…?” he responded to my awkwardness.
    I nearly defended myself, by talking normally, but I knew my voice would crack, or I’d end up giggling like an idiot.
    So I let him turn away, and talk to Isabelle about a project that was due in Chemistry.
    Inside, I scolded myself for being spineless. Not much I could do to change it though.
    I continued watching him from afar, knowing it was probably just a silly high school crush, but wanting it anyways.