Chapter 1
✨SARADA✨
The water of the shower was luxuriously warm, perfect for this frigid winter day, or I’d be as frozen as the icebergs in Antarctica. I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and concluded my shower.
Swathed in a towel, I made my way to my room, donning a plush bathrobe before heading to the kitchen for my morning elixir of caffeine.
As the coffee slowly dripped into my cup, my mind drifted elsewhere—perhaps to someone else. This had been my routine for a long time. There’s this boy I adore, but I’ve never mustered the courage to tell him, and this will be the last year I’ll see him.
I’m on the verge of completing high school, and after this year, I will never have the opportunity to confess my feelings. He is so near yet so far. He’s a close friend of my best friends, and we share the same social circle, but we haven’t had a substantial conversation yet.
Why am I like this? How will I ever divulge my true feelings to him?
Why do I love him in the first place? There’s no explicit reason, but the reality is, when we were in primary school, I was walking home alone, and a street dog started barking at me, making me cry. Out of nowhere, he appeared, standing in front of me despite his own fear of the dog, protecting me. After the dog left, he took out his handkerchief and wiped my tears, giving it to me. I still have that handkerchief.
Since that day, I’ve observed him every day, and gradually, admiration turned into feelings as profound as the Amazon Rainforest.
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*Bark bark*
"Uhehjsnshsbhs" *crying* Sarada stood there, tears streaming down her face as a dog barked at the seven-year-old. She was so terrified she didn’t know what to do.
"Go away, you bad dog!" A stone was hurled at the dog by a boy—a blonde, Pikachu-looking boy wearing a pink t-shirt and black shorts. He wasn’t even taller than Sarada, but he stood there before her, trying to protect her despite his own trembling fear.
The dog barked again and ran away.
Sarada smiled at him, and the boy smiled back. He offered his hand for her to take, and Sarada accepted it. They walked together, as they lived in the same neighborhood.
"You should be braver, Sarada," he said, offering her a handkerchief to wipe her tears.
"Hmm.." Sarada took the handkerchief and wiped her tears. He held her hand again, and they ran back home.
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I can’t believe that because of such a minor interaction, over the years, I’ve developed feelings for none other than Uzumaki Boruto. He’s that one boy, popular among girls who are far more beautiful than I ever will be.
Everywhere he goes, he’s inundated with love letters or contact numbers scrawled on tissues, and sometimes even handkerchiefs. He accepts them but discards them after his admirers leave. Such a considerate boy he is. Wait till he throws mine away one day. I feel bad for the girls who never received a call, but it’s fortunate he isn’t preoccupied, at least.
He is that guy who excels in everything—sports, academics, extracurriculars—you name it. He’s just perfect. He probably favors black and dark pink hues, as he predominantly wears those. His favorite food is burgers, his favorite drink is apple juice, and his favorite place is the grounds near the lake.
How do I know all of this? Essentially, an idiot like me has been surreptitiously observing him for two years now and hasn’t been caught yet. Absurd, isn’t it? I might not be merely a casual stalker following him around. Being a tech enthusiast, I know hacking, and I might have infiltrated his device and obtained some rather steamy pictures.
The pictures he took at the gym—I can’t help but blush. My cheeks are burning crimson, my nipples hard against my bathrobe, heat pooling between my legs. I might be too young to think of him like this, but I can’t control my feelings.
I just turned 18, and he’s about 19. We have a good age gap, just as I’ve always desired.
I stepped outside and boarded the bus to my high school. As I entered, I saw him immediately—earplugs in, wet hair styled impeccably, making him look even more handsome. His white t-shirt shone brightly in the sunlight streaming through the windows. He was standing among people as the bus was full.
"Why are you standing here? Go further inside," a woman said, as I was obstructing the way. I walked ahead and stood beside him, feeling his gaze on me for a split second, scanning me up and down in my school uniform: a white shirt, a blazer, and a skirt that was slightly above my knees.
The seat in front of him had just been vacated by a woman who had just left. For the first time in a while, something happened that I never anticipated.
"You take this seat," he said. My eyes widened in surprise. Was this real? This boy had never spoken to me since we grew up. He probably doesn’t even remember protecting me from that dog that day.
"Sit here, will you?" he repeated, this time with a hint of annoyance in his tone.
Stunned, I hesitated for a moment before lowering myself into the vacant seat. My heart raced, pounding loudly in my chest as if it might give away my feelings. I could scarcely believe that Uzumaki Boruto, the object of my long-held affection, had noticed me, let alone spoken to me.
The bus lurched forward, and I clutched the edge of the seat, my thoughts swirling. Was this a chance encounter, or was it something more? Did he remember that day so long ago when he had been my knight in shining armor, standing bravely against the barking dog?
I dared a glance up at him, and to my surprise, he was already looking at me, a small smile playing on his lips. His blue eyes, vivid and bright, seemed to hold a world of secrets and unspoken thoughts. I quickly averted my gaze, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.
We rode in silence for a few minutes, the bus weaving through the morning traffic. I was acutely aware of his presence, his proximity both thrilling and intimidating. What should I say? How should I act? The myriad of unspoken words tangled in my mind, and I found myself lost in a haze of possibilities.
"How have you been, Sarada?" His voice cut through my thoughts like a sharp knife through butter. It was a casual question, but the sound of my name on his lips sent shivers down my spine.
"I... I've been good," I stammered, struggling to keep my voice steady. "How about you?"
"Busy," he replied, leaning against the bus pole with an air of effortless grace. "You know how it is—college applications, extracurriculars, trying to keep up with everything."
I nodded, though I could hardly relate to his life of excellence and popularity. "Yeah, it's a lot."
For a moment, we lapsed into silence again, but it was a different kind of silence, charged with an unspoken connection. The bus made its way through the city, stopping to let passengers on and off, but in my mind, it was just the two of us, caught in a bubble of shared history and potential futures.
The seat beside me emptied, and I quickly shifted into it, leaving my original seat open for Boruto. He took it without hesitation, and suddenly, there we were: side by side on the bus, heading to school. My long-standing crush, sitting right next to me, and we had shared actual words. It was almost too surreal to believe.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, each beat a deafening reminder of my proximity to him. The bus's rumble and the chatter of other students faded into the background, leaving only the electric silence between us.
I stole a glance at him, trying to appear casual. He was looking at his device, earbuds still in, a small smile playing on his lips. I wondered what he was thinking. Did our brief conversation mean anything to him, or was it just another moment in his busy day?
