I want to be yours

Sienna did not like the way the boy moving into the house next to hers looked. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way he stood, slightly hunched as if he carried something heavy on his shoulders, or how he barely spoke to the movers bustling around him. Maybe it was the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, hiding most of his face, or how his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, like he was trying to make himself smaller. Either way, Sienna didn't like it.

Still, she found herself watching him from her bedroom window, peering out through the gap in her curtains as he helped carry boxes inside. The sky was beginning to darken, the golden hues of late afternoon melting into dusky purples, casting long shadows across the street. He looked tall-too tall for someone who couldn't be much older than she was. And his eyes, when she finally caught a glimpse of them, were striking. A deep, stormy grey, like the sky before a thunderstorm. They were... pretty. It annoyed her.

At eleven years old, Sienna was painfully aware of her own awkwardness. Her braces felt too big for her mouth, her face was constantly breaking out, and her strawberry-blonde hair refused to cooperate no matter how much she brushed it. She hated that this boy, whoever he was, had a smooth, unblemished face. His skin was clear, his dark lashes long, and puberty seemed to have favored him in a way it clearly had not favored her. It was unfair. Completely, utterly unfair.

As she watched, the boy suddenly turned in her direction.

Sienna's breath caught in her throat. For a split second, their eyes met, locking across the short distance between their houses. Her stomach twisted, a sharp jolt of panic shooting through her as she realized she'd been caught staring. Before she could stop herself, she ducked down below the windowsill, heart pounding in her chest. But it was too late. He had seen her.

Great. Now he probably thought she was some kind of creep.

Lying flat on the floor, Sienna squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. What if he told his parents? What if they thought she was spying on them? She could already hear her mother scolding her, reminding her about "respecting other people's privacy." Or worse, what if he said something to her at school?

The thought made her cringe.

Slowly, she peeked back up over the edge of the windowsill. The boy was still standing there, but he wasn't looking at her window anymore. Instead, he was staring down at the ground, his shoulders slightly slumped. There was something in his posture that she hadn't noticed before. Something... sad.

She frowned, tilting her head.