So there she was, sitting at the same table for lunch with the same crowd of people- a crowd of one. She sat alone and didn’t mind it. It wasn’t because she was new- because she wasn’t. It wasn’t because she was loud- she never spoke a word. This girl was quiet and good-natured, and she did everything according to the book- the rules, the regulations; order was her life and though on the outside she had smiled, she always wished to fit in. That was her problem. She often carried around a book and wrote about her days in it, hoping that they would be solved without so much as one eye other than her own looking upon its spiral pages.

               That’s where he came in.

               He was the musician in the school. He was the jock, the good-looking one who everyone loved to hang around, the hot-shot. Tough-built with a soft interior and a well-chiseled face- the perfect smile to match. Though his hair was dyed white, the fact that he was practically perfect made up for it and most people overlooked it. He had never acknowledged her before except for that one incident.

               While talking to one of his best friends as they strolled down the hall, only one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder as his hand firmly gripped the fabric of the strap, she walked the opposite way and they passed each other as in any other day. She was crying, but he hadn’t noticed and walked on, laughing with his best friend, not a care in the world.

               It was at the end of the day, and he was driving home, complaining about the harsh weather that had struck while the radio blasted his tune. The pouring rain made it impossible to see even a few feet past him and he cautiously drove his new sports car onward, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the beat on the door’s leather frame. He had stopped at a stoplight when his eyes wandered and he saw her there. She was walking through the rain, no umbrella, no hat, nothing. The only thing she had on was the school sweater, her skirt with her knee socks up and her soaked backpack, which was now a darker crimson color because of its wetness.

               He couldn’t believe he was feeling this, but he felt bad. He knew she went to their school because of the uniform she had on and rolled down the passenger’s window.

               “Hey.” he yelled out with his deep voice over the pouring sound and she looked at him through the rain. “Would you like a ride?”

               She shook her head ‘no’ and continued to walk through the rain. She saw through what she thought was a ruse. She didn’t want to be bothered by “the popular” boy who helped the little nerd out because she was of a “lower status” than he was. This girl wanted no charity, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

             “I’m serious, get in.” he said and he slowly drove the car next to the sidewalk. “You’ll get sick.”

               “It’s fine.” she finally spoke up.

               “I insist.” he said and she hesitantly agreed.

               “Hello.” he smiled. “What’s your name?”

               “Park MinAh.” she said. “And you’re SeungHyun right?” she asked.

               “Yeah.” he nodded and drove forward, a one-hand feel on the steering wheel. “Everyone calls me TOP.”

               “Turn right, here.” she pointed and told him to stop. “This is it.” she said and got out of the car after thanking him and walked to her front door.

               When she had dried off at home, she opened up her little book and as she smiled, she wrote:

               “Dear Notebook: I nearly died today. He drove me home. I got to sit in his car. It still smelled of new leather.”



               She was back at school and she had mustered up the effort to smile at him in the hallway. He returned it with a nod of the head- his friends laughed.

               “You seriously just nodded at her? Dude, she’s a freak- don’t respond to her.” a friend said.

               He didn’t respond to them, brushing it off like it was nothing.


               He didn’t know how she always smiled at him. He didn’t know how she dreamt of him every night. He didn’t know how much she loved him with every fiber of her being. He didn’t know how she waved goodbye to him every day when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t know how jealous she was of another girl who could always get his attention. He didn’t know just how much his smile made her day every day.



               It was finally years later. They were both now seniors in high school, four years after he drove her home that day. It was finally graduation and they were both going their own separate ways, each on the other sides of the world, never to see each other again.

               She had done herself up. A new hairstyle. A new attitude. A new face made with makeup. A new dress. Though her inside was the same, the feelings still there for him, he only noticed the outer look.

               “I guess this is it.” she smiled at him.

               “I guess so.” he shrugged.

               “Good luck.” she smiled.

               “You too.”
 

That was it. Those were the only words in the only conversation they shared. She never told him how much she still loved him. She never told him how much she wanted him. She never told him how she had written a letter to him every day in her notebook which she held by her side, prepared to give it to him.


               She never saw him again. They never spoke. They never messaged. She regretted every minute of silence.




               It was more years past. It was the 25th anniversary of their graduation and they were invited back to their old school with their class. She walked in, an accomplished woman. There he was, sitting at his table with his old friends, looking as good as ever catching up on old times. When he was alone, she approached him.

               “Hey.” she smiled and they hugged. “You know, it’s weird. I’ve always wanted to tell you-”

               “Oh sweetie, there you are.” she was interrupted by the same girl who had always gotten his attention before hers.

               “Oh hello.” he said and they exchanged a kiss, “Did you know we got married?”

               Her heart broke, just like so many years before her.

               “So what did you want to say?” he smiled.

               “I’ve always wanted to tell you… that you’re going to look as good as ever.” she lied and held back her tears.

               So there she was, sitting at the anniversary dinner table with the same crowd of people- a crowd of one. She sat alone and didn’t mind it. She still carried around a leather book and wrote about her days in it, hoping that they would be solved without so much as one eye other than her own looking upon its fresh, leather-bound pages.

               That’s where he came in.

               He was still known as the singer in the school. He was still the jock, the good-looking one who everyone loved to hang around, the hot-shot. Tough-built with a soft interior and a well-chiseled face- the perfect smile to match. Though his hair was dyed white, the fact that he was practically perfect made up for it and most people overlooked it. He had never acknowledged her before except for that one incident, and now he always glanced at her table while she wrote in her little black book.


               By the end of the night, he got up and pulled a little torn piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket, an old-looking spiral-notebook page ripped down the side. He gave her that piece of paper when they were all leaving.

               “Dear Notebook.” she read it in her car. “I nearly died yesterday… she sat in my car and I brought her home. But then today… wow, she smiled at me today. I think I love her.”