New Girl
822 Words
Raven
I took a sip of my iced coffee, barely tasting it, letting the plastic straw rest against my lip as I leaned back against my bike.
Morning heat clung to the air like it hadn’t gotten the memo that summer was over.
I wasn’t expecting anything.
And then I saw her.
Gabriella Alvarez.
My chest tightened so fast it almost hurt.
She stood across the lot like she hadn’t shattered my entire sense of balance just by existing. Tight jeans, black Converse, a band tee half-hidden under a jean jacket. Her dark hair pulled into a ponytail that showed too much neck. The kind of neck that made my hands itch.
Fuck.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.
She looked… different. Still beautiful — devastatingly so — but softer around the edges. Like she was standing in the middle of her own life without knowing where she was supposed to be.
Which made sense.
I forced myself to look bored, casual, like she wasn’t the only thing my brain was screaming about. Like I hadn’t memorized the slope of her shoulders years ago. Like my pulse wasn’t hammering in my ears.
She noticed me anyway.
She always did.
Her steps slowed. Hesitant. Careful. Like she wasn’t sure if coming closer was a good idea — or a terrible one.
I straightened slightly, resting my heel against the bike frame.
“What’s up?” I asked when she was close enough to hear me, keeping my voice lazy. Controlled.
She smiled. Just barely.
“Nothing much. I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”
I shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”
She studied me, eyes sharp despite the softness. Like she was trying to piece me together from scraps she didn’t remember earning.
“So… why me?” she asked. “You could’ve paid for anyone.”
A smirk tugged at my mouth before I could stop it. “Because I wanted your number. And I figured if I paid, you’d come find me.”
Her cheeks flushed immediately.
Cute. Still cute.
She glanced down at her drink, then back up. “And if I give it to you?”
“I might end up sexting you,” I said lightly.
Her breath hitched. Just a little.
Before either of us could go further, the warning bell shrieked through the air.
Time was up.
I stepped closer without thinking, lifted a finger, and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My knuckles skimmed her cheek. Electricity snapped between us — sharp and unmistakable.
“Later,” I murmured.
I didn’t wait for a response. Helmet off. Bike off. I walked away before I could do something stupid.
Okay. I looked back once.
She was still standing there.
Eyes wide. Lips parted.
“Hey, Gabby,” I called.
She jumped, then hurried toward the building like the ground might swallow her whole.
I chuckled under my breath and dumped my coffee in the trash.
Didn’t need caffeine anymore.
First period was exactly as miserable as I remembered.
Same walls. Same fake smiles. Same people pretending high school didn’t feel like a slow suffocation.
I slid into my usual seat in the back, one boot hooked around the chair leg, earbuds in. Joji hummed softly in my ears.
Then the door opened again.
And my attention snapped up.
She wasn’t Gabriella.
But she was… something.
New girl. Confident. Pretty in an effortless way. Dark curls brushing her shoulders, glasses slipping slightly down her nose. Tight black shirt. Jeans that hugged her just enough to make my brain short-circuit.
She glanced at me.
Held my gaze.
Bit her lip.
Well. s**t.
“Class,” the teacher said, “this is Arielle Gomez. She’s transferring in.”
Arielle scanned the room once — then walked straight toward me and sat down beside me like it was a conscious choice.
Bold.
I turned slightly. “You always sit next to strangers, or am I special?”
She smiled. “You looked interesting.”
“Careful,” I said. “That’s how people get attached.”
The teacher cleared her throat sharply. “Miss Rider. Less flirting. More attention.”
Arielle laughed under her breath.
Worth it.
We exchanged quiet comments, barely restrained smiles, knees brushing once — enough to spark something warm and dangerous.
But between jokes, between glances…
My eyes drifted to the window.
To the spot where Gabriella had disappeared.
My chest ached in that familiar, hollow way. The kind of ache you don’t talk about because saying it out loud makes it real.
I told myself to focus. To move on. To let the past stay buried where it belonged.
But that was bullshit.
Because no matter how many girls smiled at me.
No matter how easy the flirting felt.
No matter how hard I tried to outrun it—
My heart already knew the truth.
I still love her.
- Writer
