You don't see her the in the yard the next day, but you are determined to talk to her today because you know you will never be able to make it through the weekend without at least knowing her name.
You felt yourself going crazy only because you had to wait one afternoon and one night so you can finally meet her today, one whole weekend alone with your thoughts regarding her voice and her personality and wondering if she smiles a lot or if she likes making jokes or wondering if maybe she is a loner just like you are definitely going to send you to a mental hospital.
To your disadvantage you have never been the one to walk around the school all by yourself in order to discover all the secret hiding places that certainly exist. You dread the breaks between classes, because it means you have to stand in the yard all by yourself, with nothing to do. A book would always find its way in your arms, but how could you possibly concentrate on reading when there are boys screaming on the basketball court and on a bench nearby some girls giggling and gossiping about boys and there in the corner of your eye you see a couple stealing kisses and glances at one another because their parents don't allow them to be together?
So all you do is wait for the English class to begin, scanning the hallways for a tall brunette with unruly curls falling down her shoulders.
She doesn't come.
You know she is supposed to because you even went to the school's office to ask if there will be any new girls in Mr. Miller's English class and you managed you get your affirmative answer and run to the girl's bathroom before breaking into hives after saying the teacher asked you to find out.
And now you are sitting in the front row as always, hearing what the teacher explains about the Victorian era but not really listening, because 10 minutes have passed and she still hasn't showed up.
…
It's lunch break, but after the Physical Teacher dismissed the class, you stayed behind and asked him if it was possible to practice your swing some more, considering you will be noted at how you play softball next week.
He looked at you strangely, but put the power back on at the batting cage and gave you your helmet back.
You have never been good at sports, probably because it's something you become better at only by practicing every day. It's something you need a friend for to catch the ball, or run after it or just be there to tell you if what you are doing is okay and correct you when you are wrong. It's not something you can learn from the books.
It requires human interaction, which is the only thing you are worse at after sports.
You barely manage to touch the incoming balls, but you don't blame it on your lack of skill, you blame it on your lack of concentration.
The moment the brunette entered your English class 15 minutes after the class had started, all your focus went out the window. She didn't talk, just left one note on the teacher's desk and after only one glance at the piece of paper, Mr. Miller gestured for her to take a seat.
She did. Right in the back of the class, where no matter how you turned you couldn't see her, but she had you in perfect view.
You boiled and you clenched your teeth and squared your shoulders and you almost squirmed, but no matter what you did you were perfectly capable of feeling her eyes bore holes into your skin.
By the end of the class you were so angry you almost broke your pen in two.
You had never been more determined to talk to someone in your life.
You picked up your things with light-speed, but by the time you were ready to turn and confront her, she was already gone.
Again.
The same thing happened at Chemistry, and at Physical Education she hadn't showed up at all.
And now here you are, directing your rage at some baseballs, missing each and every one, because on a good day you are nowhere near capable of hitting the ball.
Your arms start so hurt so much that you can't keep the bat straight anymore when the machine suddenly stops, but you're too tired and worn out to question why.
You let the bat drop at your feet, and put your hands on your knees in a feeble attempt to catch your breath.
You hear footsteps behind you, but you don't turn around until you see two black converse appear right in front of you.
You slowly stand up straight again, and you are met with a cocky grin and big brown eyes.
After staying as far away from you as possible all day, here she is.
Even more gorgeous than from afar.
You are both silent for a moment, taking each other in.
Her, in a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and skinny black jeans, and you, still in your training clothes, all sweaty and panting.
She bends down to take the bat, and after analyzing it for a moment she heads to the equipment room and drops it off. She takes a moment to scratch her chin, before choosing a shorter bat, that also looks lighter than the one the teacher left for you.
She comes back and hands it to you, making sure your fingers don't brush by accident.
"The bat was too heavy for you, that's why you couldn't swing it properly."
You thought her eyes are the best part about her.
Clearly, it was because you hadn't heard her talk.
Her voice is raspy and deep, wrapping around you like smoke.
She has the voice of someone that used to smoke and drink a lot, but without the roughness that comes along.
You want to say something that will make her talk again, but you can't make your facial muscles move.
Fortunately, you don't have to.
"Show me your stance again."
For once in your life, you're happy your stance is horrible, just so she can correct it.
She cringes at your position, but recovers after a moment.
She moves behind your back, leans in closer to whisper in your ear, still not letting your bodies touch.
"Spread your legs a little more until they are aligned with your shoulders."
Your brain short-circuits.
You can feel her hot breath on your skin behind your ear, and her husky voice reverberates in your whole body.
You'd do anything to keep her going.
"Now bend your knees."
You do.
"Stand straight, but relax your arms."
You do that too.
"Good."
She takes a step back and goes back to standing in front of you.
She watches you for a moment, before heading to the control panel to turn on the machine again.
She comes back next to you just as the balls fly in your direction.
You only miss 5 out of 20.
…
"Children absorb 90% of the information necessary for taking a good grade during class. That means you lost 22,5% of the necessary information for taking at least a C at English and another 15% at Chemistry."
You had to say it.
You have been walking around the yard aimlessly side by side, in silence, and maybe you're not that good at making friends but you do know when two people meet, they almost always make conversation so they can get to know each other better.
Almost.
She doesn't look at you but gives a sideways smirk, and when she answers and you hear her voice again you forget what you were talking about.
"Yeah well, sometimes people have better things to do than school."
"Really, because statistics show 87% of the individuals that haven't gone to college for different reasons regret it later in their life."
You bite your tongue, trying to stop it from forming words.
She stops walking and you are sure she will turn back and run away.
This is the point where the other person leaves you without looking back.
You hold your breath, and wait for it.
After a few more moments of looking at each other, she lets her head fall forward.
And she laughs.
A deep, throaty laugh, the kind of laugh that makes you smile no matter the situation.
She looks up at you after a moment but as soon as she makes eye contact she starts chuckling again.
And this is how to ended up in the middle of the yard, standing next to a girl who has been shaking her head and laughing for the past 5 minutes.
You
Made
Someone
Laugh.
Not just someone, but the girl you've been dying to talk to ever since you laid your eyes on her.
She breaks you out of our reverie by coming closer and putting her hands on your shoulders.
"Look, I would really enjoy talking about how a reckless decision in one's teenage years can influence your life forever, but why don't we start talking about something more simple…like…I don't know…names?"
You're stuck.
You're stuck because you screwed up but she didn't run or talk condescendingly to you.
She laughed, but the way she did it made it look like she laughed with you, not at you.
And now here she is, smiling at you and resting her hands on your shoulders and oh God how can someone's skin be so smooth and warm?
Even through the fabric of your t-shirt. Even though now her hands are back in her pockets.
You're already addicted.
"I-…I'm sorry, what?"
You realise you must sound like a person whose attention span is a big fat zero, but heat is still radiating through your body from where her hands touched your shoulders and you can't remember what she said for the life of you.
Her smile only gets bigger, now transformed into a full face grin with dimples and all.
You feel an unstoppable urge to lean in and kiss them.
Fortunately, you're distracted by her amused answer.
"I'm asking you," She makes a pause to smirk a little and raise an eyebrow. "What your name is."
"I'm Maura…Maura Isles."
"Hello there, Maura. I'm Jane. Jane Rizzoli."
She sticks out her hand which you shake, feeling like you've won the lottery.
The bell announcing the break is over fills the air.
You hope you hadn't imagined the squeeze she gave your hand before dropping it.
You've never been sadder the break is over in your entire life.