Page 6 of Heartthrobs Don't Date Wallflowers
I’m 100% saving you as that
Thank you very much
Not Zesty
I already regret this
Ivy
As you absolutely should
three
Music blared from my speaker,practically shaking the whole house, as I continued with my closet clean-out the next day.
Because my life was now officially boring enough for me to be cleaning out my closet on a Saturday afternoon.
I rummaged through the chaos, pulling out everything from my favorite old band tees to the dress I wore to my cousin’s wedding three years ago. I held up the dress, which was probably about two sizes too small by now, and snorted. Maybe I shouldn’t have just stuffed everything in moving boxes and promised myself that future me would deal with it once I moved into the new house.
Spoiler alert: future me didn’t want to deal with it.
I tossed the dress into the “donate” pile, which was starting to grow larger than my “keep” pile. Probably because half of the clothes were ones that remindedme of my ex and I didn’t want his bad energy in this new house.
I bobbed my head to the music as I spun back around to the closet and started pulling more clothes out. With every piece I pulled out, I felt lighter, like I was shedding old skin. I flipped through a few more hangers, making quick decisions.
“Keep.” I cradled a cozy sweater that I practically lived in during winter, hugging it to my chest like it was a long-lost friend. “Definitely keep. No way in heck am I letting you go.”
I threw it on the right pile and grabbed a pair of ripped jeans that I swore I hadn’t seen since middle school. I promised myself I would become cooler once I started high school and would wear them—that clearly hadn’t worked out.
The music thumped louder, and I couldn’t resist the urge to dance a little. I let my body sway side to side, imagining I was on a stage instead of a cluttered bedroom. I struck a ridiculous pose in the mirror, pretending to hold a microphone and screaming along to the lyrics in the mirror.
“And I will always love you!” I belted out, laughing at my own terrible voice. I mimicked a dramatic hair flip, chin looking over one shoulder and giggling as I winked at myself in the mirror. I pretended stage lights were hot on my skin and a roaring crowd was cheering as I twirled around completely lost in the moment. Now, like any great concert, I needed a costume change. I grabbed the first thing I could find—an old sundress with faded pink hearts that was big enough tojust pull on over my current outfit. I twirled in front of the mirror, as if I was in a fashion show.
“What do we think?” I asked myself. I spun around again, watching it flare out at the waist. Yeah, not my style. “Donate. I’m never going to wear you.”
Next, I switched to a pair of high-waisted jeans and a cropped band tee, again just pulling them on over the shorts and tank top I was wearing. I wasn’t committed enough to this cleanup to bother actually changing. I struck a confident pose, hands on my hips, making a pouty face like I was a model. The face looked terrible but the outfit was nice.
“This is totally a keeper,” I announced, nodding at myself. I grabbed an oversized hoodie next, slipping it on over my t-shirt. I leaned against the wall and frowned at myself in the mirror, trying to channel a casual vibe and totally failing. “Nope, can’t pull it off. Next!”
I rummaged for a few more pieces, trying on an old sweater that was just a bit too big and a pair of combat boots. I tried to hit a dramatic pose, but my foot landed on a stray sock and I almost fell backwards.
“Whoa!” I yelped, barely catching myself on the edge of my desk before sending my notebook flying. I groaned and bent over to grab it from where it had fallen in my donate pile. As much as I’d love to donate all my school supplies and pretend that I wouldn’t be needing them on Monday, I knew that would only end in me having to go back to Staples to get more.
I brushed it off as I stood back upand glanced out the window—and came eye to eye with a boy in the house next door.
A very cute boy with dark hair and eyes, and small dimples that showed as he grinned at me.
Because as my luck would have it, our windows lined up perfectly, with only his house’s garage roof separating us. Meaning I could see right into his room and he?—
He could see everything I’d been doing for the past half hour.
My heart froze mid-beat, and I swear I forgot how to breathe. He wasn’t just glancing, either—he was staring, and from the smirk on his face, he’d definitely seen the whole performance. The terrible singing, the dramatic twirls, the ridiculous poses. Every single embarrassing second of it.
Heat rushed to my face as I stood there, completely frozen, not sure whether to dive behind my desk or just act like this was totally normal behavior. Like everyone spent their Saturday afternoons putting on impromptu fashion shows and dancing like a superstar for their bedroom windows.
I gave him an awkward wave. You know, like that would somehow make this less humiliating.
To my surprise, his mouth curled into a smirk, and he waved back—slow, like he was enjoying my humiliation. Great. I’d just given him the best entertainment of his day.
