I had only been at my new school for a few days and had already fallen in love.
She is smart even if she doesn't want to admit it. She has beautiful, unruly, dark raven curls and velvet chocolate eyes that can melt you. They shine when she smiles, which is also a beautiful thing. Her perfect, straight pearly whites glimmer when she smiles, and her smile is accompanied by the most beautiful dimples. She is tall and lanky, but skinny and very athletic. She is beautiful, she is kind. And she is broken.
From the moment I saw her, I knew that she is different from all those girls with painted faces and hidden souls. I knew that she is a girl that has been abused, unloved, and forgotten. But I also saw that she has overcome that. Her experiences shaped her into this broken girl, but she is so incredibly strong. I realized that it is her perfect understanding of human nature, her forgiveness of others, and acceptance of herself that makes her so lovely. When I first saw her, I thought of those pointe shoes ballerinas wear. Although she has been through her share of difficult experiences, they have shaped her into who she is. Life is the dancers foot and she is the pointe shoe. She is tattered. She is used. But she is beautiful.
I also noticed the small things. The way she's quiet. The way she really concentrates when she writes her name. The way she doesn't really pay attention in class, but still gets all A's. The way her mane of a hair can look so beautiful and sexy at the same time. The way she bites her lip when she's nervous. The way her eyes shine when she talks about something she loves. The way she taps her pen on her desk. The way she coughs. The way she sneezes. All of her different facial expressions. I studied her. I learned her.
So that when I finally decided to tell her that I was madly in love with her, I would have the guts to do so.
That day was today.
I looked at the clock.
2:19.
Five minutes until the bell rings signaling last hour, which is gym for her.
I sat in my seat awkwardly staring glances at the clock.
"Miss Isles?" My head snapped to the front of the room, where our English teacher, Mr. Peterson, was looking at me expectantly.
"Y-yes sir?" I asked nervously.
"What is so fascinating about the clock?" I heard a snicker, and looked beside me. It was her. It was Jane.
"Um...n-no sir."
"Then eyes up here, please." I glanced at Jane before looking at the front of the classroom. I could see her staring at me, and I couldn't help but smile.
The bell rang.
I quickly stood up and grabbed my bag, looping my arms through the loops and pulling it up onto my shoulders. I grabbed my books and hurried out the door after Jane.
I finally caught up to her, and stood beside her.
"Hi," I said.
"Sup." I hate slang. But when she says it...
"I was just wondering..."
"What time it was?" she snickered. "That clock was really interesting to you, wasn't it?"
"Well, yes, but only because I was hoping to talk to you."
"About?" she glanced at me and raised her eyebrows.
"Um...well, I..." She smiled.
"I think it's funny how you can blabber scientific shit that no one knows what the hell you're saying, but when you actually try and talk to someone about something other than science, you're speechless. Come on, Googlemouth, spit it out."
"Googlemouth?" Jane laughed, and my nerves were instantly calmed.
"That's what I'm gonna call you. Your names Mary, right?"
"Maura," I corrected.
"Right, Maura. I can't believe I didn't remember your name." I was beaming.
"Why?"
"Rich girl with a rich name." My smile faded. "Anyways, what did you need to talk about? I don't want to be late for class or Coach Hannah will chew my ass."
"I, uh..." They were back. My nerves always get in the way.
"Maura?" When I just stared at her, she rolled her eyes and smiled. When she started to walk away, I grabbed her arm.
"Wait," I said quickly. She turned around, and I loosened my grip on her arm so that now it was – hopefully – comforting. Friendly.
"You're not alone," I said.
"I've always been alone," she said quietly.
"Well I'm here now, and you won't be alone anymore. I'm with you. I won't leave you. You never have to be alone again." I leaned in and kissed her cheek, and she instantly turned red. "Bye, Jane." I turned to walk away, smiling from ear to ear.
"Maura, wait!" I turned around, and Jane was running up to me. She grabbed my face and kissed me. On the lips.
Jane Rizzoli, the woman who is so reserved and independent, kissed me, Maura Isles.
She pulled away, and slowly opened her eyes.
"You're not alone either," she said, smiling, before she walked away.
I used the third paragraph (starts with "from the moment I saw her") from stray_thoughts on Instagram (I asked for her permission). So sorry, that brilliant paragraph is not mine.