High school sweet heart

Xhani POV

It was a bright, beautiful day, and I was on my way back from cooking class, my heart practically soaring with excitement. I couldn’t wait to show my girlfriends what I had whipped up and hear their thoughts. As I strolled through the campus green area, I spotted a girl sitting on the ground, her shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Behind her stood a boy I’d never seen before.

Something about him caught my attention, and I found myself lingering, staring. I was lost in thought until my best friend, Ziya, yanked me back to reality.

“Xhani, over here!” she called.

Ziya had been my best friend since we first started school. She was short, curvy, and had striking yellow hair. Her hazel eyes, flecked with gold, were large and expressive. At five-foot-five, she was a couple of inches shorter than me—at five-foot-seven—and I never missed an opportunity to tease her about it.

“I’m coming!” I shouted, waving at her.

Ziya glanced at the spot that had so thoroughly captured my attention. “What are you looking at?” she asked, narrowing her eyes curiously.

“Do you know that guy? I’ve never seen him before,” I blurted out.

Ziya shook her head. “No. Why?”

“No real reason,” I replied, playing it off. But truth be told, my curiosity had been piqued. He was mysterious, and I suddenly felt a strong urge to find out who he was. Handsome, well-built, dark dusty-brown skin, and those eyes—round and bright—accentuated by unbelievably long lashes. His lips were pink and perfectly shaped, and I realized, a bit shocked at myself, that I was thinking about what they might taste like.

We were only seventeen and in our final year of school. With graduation on the horizon, it felt crucial to at least learn his name before I said goodbye to this place forever.

I attended one of the largest schools in Malibu, rumored to have nearly four thousand students this year. It was so massive that the student body was divided into seven different houses: Red, Orange, Green, Yellow, Purple, Blue, and Pink. Arranged in a circle around a central courtyard, the houses surrounded a lush expanse of synthetic turf, where students could sprawl out or sit on benches during lunch.

Each house contained students from Year 7 through Year 12. After Year 12, we could choose to head off to college. I was in Year 12, and so was Ziya. We were known for our mischievous streak—Ziya and I were never short of pranks or jokes. I happened to be fairly popular, so I knew people from all of the houses. Of course, some disliked me, usually those who believed I’d ‘stolen their boyfriends,’ which was complete nonsense.

When the bell rang, we had to rush back to class. But I quickly remembered that I needed to stop by the ladies’ room first. Ziya decided to tag along since we shared the next class period.

Inside the bathroom, I washed my hands and then paused at the mirror, winking at my own reflection. At five-foot-seven, I had long, straight, deep-brown hair that skimmed my hips, a small face, and big, almond-shaped eyes. My eyes were light brown with a subtle shimmer in them, and my cheeks always carried a rosy flush. I loved my body—strong legs, a curvy butt, and a tiny waist. My school uniform skirt sat perfectly on me, though it tended to ride up thanks to my curves. People often assumed I was pushing my hips out on purpose, but that was just how it fit.

I had promised myself that my final year of high school would be all about new experiences and figuring out who I was. College and the rest of the world loomed beyond graduation, but I wanted to enjoy the present moment and make this last year count: happy, smiling, and hand in hand with my friends. Of course, I planned to work hard and earn the kind of grades that would make my parents proud—just as they had made me proud with their own accomplishments.

For now, though, I couldn’t shake the lingering image of that mysterious boy. Whoever he was, I just knew I had to find out. After all, time was running out, and graduation was just around the corner.