I woke late up just like any other Saturday morning.
Nothing about the morning suggested chaos or mayhem But trust when i say nothing could prepare me for what was about to happen.
Oh sorry I spoke too soon keep reading
The sun had risen just right, glowing through my curtains in that warm, non-aggressive way that made the walls in my room feel like buttered toast. My phone was at 89%, and I had the perfect playlist queued my christian R&B, mellow and mood-setting, like I was the main character of a nostalgic teen movie.So, when I told my mom, "I need to go to the mall to get a few things," I wasn't thinking anything of it. I certainly wasn't expecting fate to grab me by the collar and whisper, it's today.We pulled into the mall parking lot around noon, the sun still friendly and forgiving. Inside, the mall was its usual explosion of life—bright lights, perfume samples clouding the air, glittering window displays promising sales, and people moving like bees in a hive. The chaos was strangely comforting.I walked beside my mom, one hand scrolling aimlessly through my phone, the other grazing against store rails and soft fabrics. Just happy to be out because I was literally rotting at home. Just content enough to not realize the universe was shifting.We passed two stores before she turned sharply into a big clothing outlet—one of those wide spaces with too many aisles and not enough logic."Go on, explore," she said, already half-lost in a section with embroidered blouses. "Pick whatever you want. We'll figure out what we're buying later."And just like that, I was free.I wandered down the first aisle, fingers dancing over denim and linen and cotton. I mentally tried on outfits without touching a single hanger. In the mirrors, I styled myself with imaginary confidence—imagined walking down school halls like I owned them.Then it happened.I turned too quickly into the next aisle and—
Boom.A body. A solid one.I bounced back like I'd hit a padded wall."Ah! I'm so sorry," I blurted instinctively, stepping back and blinking.That's when I saw him.Tall. Effortlessly tall.
Light-skinned, but with a sun-glazed undertone that made his skin look golden under the soft store lights. His hair was cut in a crisp taper, the kind that showed attention to detail—tight at the edges, soft curls on top, shaped just enough to say, I care, but not too much.And his face?
Lord, his face.His eyes were dark, but not the scary kind—more like a quiet ocean. Deep. Still. Watching. His lips were full but relaxed, and he had this presence… this energy. Like he didn't chase attention, but it always found him.He wore a cream-colored top—fitted, no logo, but clearly designer. Clean denim jeans hugged his legs, and his sneakers? Oh, those sneakers weren't even from this continent. I couldn't name the brand, but they whispered money. The quiet kind. The unbothered kind.My mind blanked.And then—I said it."Oh my God, this boy is so fine."Aloud.Like, actual volume.I didn't even realize I'd said it until I saw the corners of his lips twitch upward. A smile. That slow, amused kind. Like he was trying not to laugh. I wanted the floor to open beneath me. Swallow me whole. Digest me and never spit me back out.Panicked, I did the only thing my body could think to do—I turned as soon as I turned and I my head hit the shelve and made a very loud sound are you ok he said as he turned to me eyes curious I'm ok I said in shame of course I wanted to enter the ground for real this time immediately I went into the next aisle at as speed of light before he could even say anything I immediately closed my eyes and bit my lips remembering what just happened frick
i Walked back through the aisle, around a rack of jeans, and pretended to study a row of ugly cargo pants like they held the meaning of life. My face? On fire. My hands? Sweaty. My heart? Racing like it had just heard the school bell.I found my mom two racks away, still debating between two blouses that looked identical."What's wrong?" she asked, barely glancing at me."Nothing," I replied, grabbing random shirts like I was in a timed challenge. "Just thinking."But it wasn't over.Throughout the next fifteen minutes, as we moved from one section to another, he kept appearing. Not obviously. But enough.A glance here. A shared smile there. I'd look up from a price tag and—boom—there he was again, a few aisles over, pretending to study jackets, but clearly aware of me. He didn't look away when I did. His eyes followed me calmly, like he was reading a very good book and didn't want to miss a line.I felt like I was in a scene from a movie. One of those coming-of-age, dreamy, slow-burn kind of stories.And just when I'd convinced myself it was all coincidence—just some accidental eye contact—the universe gave me another moment.We got to the counter to pay, and there he was. Right beside us. With his own shopping cart, his own handful of clothes, and that same relaxed presence. I could barely focus. My mom was busy checking prices and muttering about sales tax, but I could feel him next to me. Like his gravity was pulling the air toward him.I dared not stare. Not with my African mother beside me, whose side-eye could cut through walls and whose peripheral vision could catch a mosquito blinking.But I peeked.He caught my eye—and waved.Waved.A smooth, small, two-finger lift that sent my soul into orbit. I froze. My lips curved before I could stop them. I bit the grin back, looked at my mom, and did the dumbest thing ever.I threw my arms around her."Thank you for buying me that shirt!" I said, way too enthusiastically.She blinked, confused. "What shirt?""You know… the nice one." I giggled like a gremlin.She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You're acting strange today.""Just excited," I said, forcing calm into my voice. "It's a good day."Eventually, we left the store, drinks in hand and bags on our wrists, weaving through the crowd toward the car park. The moment had passed. I'd accepted it. The cute boy was a mall memory now—just another face in a fantasy I'd replay later with dramatic music.But then—
There he was again.In his car.It was sleek. A dark-colored BMW with tinted windows, silver trims catching the light. He was in the driver's seat, one arm on the wheel, looking like a playlist cover. His window was down, elbow resting casually. Like he wasn't in a rush. Like he was waiting.I slid into our car and glanced through the glass.Our eyes locked again.My mom was too busy rearranging the shopping bags in the backseat to notice. I hesitated. Debated. Then—I lifted my hand.A shy little wave.He laughed.Not mockingly. Not smug. It was the kind of laugh that said, You're cute. He gave a two-finger wave back. Nodded once. Then drove off slowly, disappearing into the parking lot like a scene fading to credits.I melted into my seat, burying my face into my hoodie."What is making you so hyper today?" my mom asked, half-suspicious, glancing at me as she pulled out of the lot."I just really enjoyed our time together, Mommy," I replied sweetly, clinging to the shopping bag like it was a love letter.But truthfully?All I could think of was him.His smile.
His wave.
The calm way he looked at me, like he saw something others missed.And the way my heart refused—absolutely refused—to calm down.