Another day, another story, another grayscale day with nothing special. A straight line, Katherine says. Straight and perfect, just like your calligraphy and your cursive. Just like your life. And you've always followed that rule. You've thought it smart, respectful, passive. Perfect. And you still do.

But something felt different this morning when you pushed your thick blond hair past your ear and headed out for lunch in the courtyard of the school. And it still feels odd now. The sky seems bluer, and the falling red leaves more saturated, and you smile despite everything, even as you push away and hide, as usual. Simple. Grayscale.

Katherine tells you that's smart. It's simple and it's cold. And that's the way it should be. Old school. Old fashioned. And apparently, according to her, perfect. But here you are, dreaming of things like being a CEO in a world where your mother still prefers male doctors.

Well, what can you do? It isn't exactly as if you can differ from the crowd, right?

You smile meekly as two of the sophomore boys shout at you, calling you things like 'gorgeous' and 'baby', and move on. You're not interested, and you've never figured out why that is. Sure, you have your ideas about your interests and why. But just like everything else, you're wondering if it's right. And today, as you sit down beneath a tree and watch the other students settle around the courtyard, you finally, in a split second of color, realize it could be right. And hat maybe it's time for you to be yourself, and not who Katherine wants you to be.

And that someone wants to be infinity closer to that gorgeous woman with flaming red hair and bright minty green eyes.

You've never seen her before. You would have remembered that flame of red down her back. In this wild grayscale world, she's like a freaking lighthouse. And you're drawn to her light. My god are you ever.

And in sitting there on your ledge, books in hand, shaded by the tree above you, it takes you a total of two minutes to tear your eyes away from her for a second, and it hurts. And strangely, oddly, you find you're self more than just intrigued by her. More than curious.

You blush at you realize what's happening. You're blushing. And you're heart is practically tripping over itself. And you're smiling like a fool. And it's confusing and scary as fuck. And naturally, when scared, then automatic thing to do is run. You finish your lunch quietly and leave, and spend the rest of the day wondering what's wrong with you. This girl makes your heart trip at even a memory, yet nearly every guy in the school does nothing. What does this mean? Are you gay? A lesbian?

You spend all night considering it, and trying for some time to make yourself believe it isn't there. It's a phase. Of course it is.

Until the next day when you're sitting outside for lunch and eating your sandwiches, you debate this. Until your sun rays are blocked out, making you look up at the lack of warmth. The sight makes you forget about the cold completely.

The sight of red hair, and minty green eyes stuns you, and momentarily you forget all about the food on the table in front of you and whatever else was planned for the day.

"Is this seat taken? I'm not sure where to sit since I'm so new, do you mind?"

You shake your head with a smile, unable to speak words, and get assaulted by a wave of faint peony perfume as she joins you at the table, and you blink probably 6 times a second, still smiling, when she whispers a quiet thanks, and proceeds to unpack her lunch.

"My name's Catherine." You whisper after a few moments, and reach out your hand, hoping to god your not shaking too much, you've spent the last few minutes trying not to choke on your own breath at the sight of her.

"Lois." She says back, and shakes your hand, a sweet smile gracing her lips, and you physically melt at the sight. Well... damn. Yeah, you're into her. This. And whatever else that could be. "Nice to meet you. I saw you yesterday, but you disappeared before I could say hi."

You drown a little at her words, and nod silently, agreeing without thought.

—

That afternoon your talking to her again. You've found out you take he same classes, and that she has similar interests in journalism and reporting. And that, you smile at the fact, because it's something new and colorful to you, much like her pretty hair. And there's other new things here too, and you want to explore them. When she leans in and brushes her lips against yours, barely a touch, but enough to make your lips feel like their on fire, and then walks away, you smile. Because this fire, this color, you enjoy it.

And as you walk away through a surprised group of students, you smile to yourself. You could learn to love this kind of flame, and as you walk home and find orange and red leaves landing everywhere, you think orange might be your new favorite color.