As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, I gathered my courage and approached Sarah, who was seated on a bench, completely absorbed in a sketch on her board. Her pencil moved deftly, capturing the intricate details of the scene before her. I cleared my throat to announce my presence, not wanting to startle her.
"Hey Sarah," I greeted, trying to sound casual and nonchalant, despite the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
She turned around, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in my standing figure behind her bench. For a moment, she seemed frozen, unsure of how to react, her pencil hovering above the paper.
Before she could respond, a young boy with a messy mop of hair and a curious gaze approached her. "Hey Jeremy!" I exclaimed, waving my hand slightly in greeting, trying to appear friendly and approachable.
The boy's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed, "Oh God, he knows my name!" His voice was filled with excitement and wonder.
But Sarah quickly intervened, her voice firm but gentle, correcting him. "Get out of your head, Michael. Jeremy is not your name." Her tone was patient, yet firm, indicating a familiar routine.
The boy's face scrunched up in confusion, and then, as if a switch had been flipped, his expression cleared. "Right, I'm Michael," he said, looking up at Sarah with a sheepish grin, his eyes sparkling with innocence.
Sarah stood up, her movements swift and purposeful, gathering her belongings. "Let's go, Michael. We need to get home." Her voice was firm, yet gentle, a clear indication of her protective instincts.
She grasped her brother's wrist, and he followed her willingly, casting a curious glance back at me. As they walked away, Sarah ignored me completely, leaving me standing alone on the bench, feeling awkward and rejected.
I felt a surge of embarrassment as I realized half the school was staring at me, their whispers and snickers carrying on the wind. I turned around, trying to play it cool, but my face burned with discomfort. The scrutiny was unbearable, and I quickened my pace, eager to escape the awkwardness.
"Wow, rejected by Sarah," someone whispered, their voice dripping with amusement.
"Looks like Robin's got a crush," another voice chimed in, followed by a chorus of giggles.
I hastened my step, my heart sinking, wondering if I'd ever be able to break through Sarah's defenses and get to know her. The encounter had left me feeling frustrated and defeated, but I refused to give up. I was determined to try again, to find a way to connect with the elusive Sarah.
As I walked through the front door, I couldn't wait to share my disappointing encounter with Freddie. I flopped onto the couch, covering my face with my palms, and let out a deep sigh.
"Hey, Freddie! Guess what happened today?" I said, my voice muffled by my hands.
Freddie looked up from his phone, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Try me," he replied, setting his phone aside.
"Sarah rejected me," I admitted, my voice laced with frustration and disappointment.
Freddie burst out laughing, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Wow, I'm beginning to like her already! Not driven by your handsomeness and charms, huh?" He teased, chuckling.
I glared at him, uncovering my face, and shot him a mock-angry look. "This is not really funny, Freddie. I'm trying to share my pain here."
Freddie's grin softened, and he leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Sorry, bro. I know it's not funny. But seriously, this is a good sign. She's not easily impressed."
I sighed, running my hands through my hair, feeling a mix of emotions. "I don't know, man. I feel like I've hit a brick wall. I've never been rejected like this before."
Freddie nodded empathetically. "I get it. But here's the thing – Sarah's different. She's not like the other girls who swoon over you. She's got substance."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"
Freddie leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I mean, she's got depth. She's not just a pretty face. And that's what makes her so appealing."
I considered his words, a plan beginning to form in my mind. "Alright, I'll take your advice. I'll try to get to know her better."
Freddie nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. "That's the spirit! Find out more about her, where she hangs out, what she's into. Get interested in the things she likes."
I nodded, determination coursing through my veins. "I'll do it. But if I end up looking like a total stalker, I'm blaming you."
Freddie chuckled, holding up his hands in mock defense. "Don't worry, bro. I'll make sure you don't cross any creepy boundaries. Just be genuine, and show her you care."
With newfound resolve, I stood up, ready to embark on my mission to get to know Sarah better. 
I pushed open the door to the cozy restaurant, scanning the bustling interior for a glimpse of Sarah. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloped me, making my stomach growl with hunger. My eyes landed on her, poised and confident, taking a customer's order with a warm smile. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, revealing her bright hazel eyes that sparkled as she engaged with the patron. I called out, waving my hand to grab her attention.
"Hey Sarah!"
She turned, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in my presence. For a moment, she seemed frozen, unsure of how to react. Her gaze darted to her younger brother Michael, sitting at a corner table, engrossed in a book, waiting patiently for his sister to finish her shift. Then, her attention returned to me, a hint of wariness creeping into her expression.
Sarah excused herself from the customer, who was still deliberating on their order, and walked towards me. Her movements were graceful, her long legs carrying her effortlessly across the room. She stopped in front of me, her hands on her hips, a questioning look on her face.
"You know stalking is a crime?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement and a dash of concern. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but I detected a underlying seriousness.
I felt my face heat up, unable to respond, knowing I was indeed snooping around. I scrambled for a plausible excuse, trying to sound nonchalant.
"I just came to ask you about art," I said, trying to sound casual. "I saw your drawing in the art class, and I was really impressed. You're incredibly talented."
Sarah raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing. "You don't do art," she stated, her tone skeptical. "I haven't seen you once in the art class. What makes you suddenly interested?"
I hesitated, realizing I needed a convincing explanation. I opted for a half-truth, hoping to sound believable.
"I am just...you know...part of the school football team and all that," I began, trying to sound casual. "So I have this independence to skip art classes. But I've always been fascinated by art, and your work caught my eye."
Sarah's eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable. "Independence, huh?" she repeated, her voice dripping with doubt. "That's convenient."
I sensed I was on thin ice, unsure how much longer I could maintain this charade. But I was determined to keep the conversation going, to find a way to connect with Sarah beyond this awkward encounter.
"What do you think about...artistic expression?" I asked, scrambling for a topic. "Do you think it's essential for creativity?"
Sarah's gaze lingered on mine, as if sizing me up. Then, to my surprise, a hint of a smile played on her lips.
"Let's talk about it," she said, nodding towards an empty table. "But just for a minute. I have a customer waiting."
I breathed a silent sigh of relief, grateful for this unexpected opening.