AN: I'm posting these two vignettes together as they are companions to each other and fairly short. Liz and Michael are about 13-years-old here.
Jasmine
He slouches against the wall, hands crammed in his pockets, the sweet-spicy scent of jasmine wafting from the bushes by his side. The scent reminds him of her, the secret crush he's covertly observing; he stands here for that very reason, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone.
Sunlight slants over her chocolate strands, creating a halo affect as she sits on the grass quietly, book forgotten in her lap and stares at the flower in her hand, a dreamy smile touching her lips. He can't help but wonder what that smile means.
Her lips quirk in amusement as she starts to pluck its petals, playing that silly game girls like to play when they want to know if their crush loves them back. It's a stupid way to divine someone's feelings, yet he can't help the pang in his heart as he wonders which lucky fool caught her eye.
It's probably some sap like Max or Kyle, a kid from the right family, with the right friends and the perfect grades to match – someone unlike him. He doesn't know why he continues to watch her, why she fascinates him so much. Yet as he focuses on his infatuation, he can't help getting sucked into those eyes. Those eyes?
Snapping out of his musing, his heart jumps, hammering in his chest as he finds those sparkling toffee orbs watching him intently. Whiskey eyes widen under that speculative gaze and dart away as his palms dampen and his throat constricts, fearing he'd been caught. She's never noticed him standing there before. Has she?
Getting his breathing under control, he braves another glance to find her placing a single petal between the pages of her book, whispering something under her breath. And for a moment he allows himself to dream that it was his name on her lips.
~…~
Petal
She sits quietly on the grass, sun shining on glossy molasses locks, gazing at the purple flower in her hands and enjoys a moment of solitude as her friends race around the park.
Plucking the petals methodically, she chants a familiar childhood game girls have intoned for ages, "he loves me, he loves me not…." working her way through the numerous petals one by one until she came to her final petal.
"He loves me," she softly cries; hope sparkling in her deep brown eyes, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
She looks up happily, to find the golden gaze of her crush watching her intently before his eyes widen slightly at discovery and he hastily looks away.
Smile broadening, she caresses the petal between her fingers and pressing it between the pages of her book, whispers his name.
"Michael."