My Secret Crush Became a Rockstar (And He Remembered Me)

In my sophomore year of high school, during the second year of my massive crush on Liam, I transferred schools. That year, I hadn't even managed to tell him my name. Years later, he became a household name, a massive pop star. And supposedly, he was still sweetly in love with his high school girlfriend, the former prom queen. When we crossed paths again, I lowered my head in disappointment, but he called out to me. "Maya Lin." "Long time no see." 01 The year Liam started high school, our school's anonymous confession page basically became the "Liam Era." As one of the behind-the-scenes admins for the page, my workload increased by two-thirds every single day. These confession posts ranged from gentle to obsessive, from short and sweet to full-blown essays... Without exception, the main character was always one person: Liam. Some even included blurry, secretly taken photos. The guy in the pictures was the only one who didn't look like a total dork in his uniform. He had striking features and a straight back, completely out of place among the usual awkward high school boys. I played with my phone screen, scoffing at it all. What's the point of liking a guy like this? Even a nine-grid photo collage wouldn't be enough to fit all my rivals. Men, especially the handsome ones, are like the wind. What I needed to do wasn't to try and catch the wind. But to be like a bird, flying against the wind, soaring toward freedom. So, sandwiched between the nine-grid confession posts, I published a post for my own missing MP3 player. "Looking for a white MP3 player, e-ink screen, paint chipped on the bottom right corner. Lost it after P.E." "If anyone finds it, please text 555-0198. I would be incredibly grateful!" A minute later, a friend request popped up on my phone. Liam has requested to add you as a friend. "Hey, I found an MP3 player on the track that looks a lot like your description." 02 Who actually uses their real name on Snapchat? I thought this guy's handle being "Liam" was just a coincidence, but I still bought a box of granola and yogurt as a thank-you gift. Hardly anyone was at the ping-pong tables in the afternoon. The sun was bright today, so a lot of people had strung up lines to air out their blankets. I wove my way through the scent of laundry detergent from blanket after blanket. A figure in a P.E. uniform stood perfectly straight amidst a pile of white sheets. Tall, long legs, a clean and cool aura. The sunlight spilled onto his side profile, highlighting a high-bridged nose and mesmerizing eyes. Just from that one glance, my breathing slowed down. "Hey, is this the MP3 player you lost?" Even his voice was pleasant. Damn it, those blurry sneak shots submitted to the page didn't capture even a tenth of his beauty! In that moment, I wasn't some bird yearning for freedom. I was just a pure, unadulterated simp for a pretty face. A shallow creature whose morals were entirely dictated by aesthetics. "Hello?" "Hey?" Long, pale fingers waved in front of my face. I snapped out of the mesmerizing vortex of his good looks, my words tumbling out incoherently. "Huh? Oh, oh, oh, right, let me see." Liam handed over a small velvet pouch. I took it, opened it, and there was my familiar MP3 player, resting safely inside. "It's yours, right?" I turned my face away and nodded, suddenly too afraid to look him in the eye. My heartbeat was deafening; I was terrified that if I looked up, I'd give myself away. The more you feel something, the more you fear it. The more you fear something, the more you try to hide it. I pretended to be cool, my voice also turning cold: "The pouch, here you go. And this is for you. Thanks." Those long fingers took the yogurt, but pushed the small velvet pouch back. Through the fabric, his fingers brushed against mine. I instantly looked over. "You're welcome. You can keep the pouch." "Also, when I found it, I accidentally saw the song playing on your screen." "Great taste." "I have to get back to practice. Good luck with your studies." I stood there holding the velvet pouch, my fingers still burning from the brief touch. A back as straight as a pine tree, yet a presence that felt so wild and untamed. A few days later, he stood on the stage at the freshman orientation showcase. Holding a bass guitar, he was as wild and dazzling as a shooting star. The first song he played was the one that had been on the home screen of my MP3 player. "Why does the summer night wind blow, passing like a dream that cannot be chased." 03 Liam stayed on my friends list. His profile picture was of him hugging a small Corgi. After the orientation showcase, he returned to a normal student life. No longer flashy, no longer fiery. He went from an ice-cold sparkling water to a warm, gentle glass of plain water. People would tease him about the spectacle on the confession page. He would just smile and dive back into his sea of textbooks. It was as if him on that stage that day had just been a dream. During the first midterms of the new semester, I stood in front of the bulletin board looking at the school-wide rankings. Two pieces of printer paper hung side-by-side: one for freshmen, one for sophomores. Freshman year, school-wide rank #1: Liam. Sophomore year, school-wide rank #1: Maya Lin. That afternoon during track practice, I intentionally followed him after we were dismissed. Pretending to have a super coincidental run-in. "Hey underclassman, congratulations, number one in the grade." I didn't think he would remember me. But I couldn't find any other excuse to talk to him. Liam paused, and after clearly seeing my face, he smiled. "Oh, it's you. Thanks." "That yogurt last time was really good." The early autumn wind rustled the leaves. Rustle, rustle. It plucked at my heartstrings. He remembered me. I was so happy that day I blew through ten math practice tests in a row. "Mr. Harris! Do you have any new practice tests?!" I raised my hand, my eyes burning with determination. A chorus of groans erupted around me. "Have mercy, brainiac! We haven't even finished the first one yet." "Mr. Harris, please don't assign any more, I'm literally going to die!" The teacher looked at me apologetically: "Sorry, Maya, the math department hasn't finished printing the new batch yet." I rushed over to the physics department instead. After the midterms, the "Liam Era" got even crazier. I pushed my glasses up my nose and processed twenty-eight posts in a row. They were all from my rivals. The twenty-ninth post was from the prom queen, Chloe Snow, a senior in Class 1. A confession using her real name. Bright and brave. Jealousy spewed venom from my heart, trying to control my brain and my hands. That was the first time I wanted to abuse my power as an admin and delete a post. But I couldn't do it. I had studied for so many years; my internal moral compass ruthlessly crushed my unwillingness. After that day, people started seeing her and Liam walking home together. A handsome boy and a beautiful girl, they were truly a sight for sore eyes. 04 More and more people spotted Liam and Chloe together. Including me. The girl had bright eyes and white teeth. When she smiled, she had a small mole inside her dimple. A few days later, I received a new submission. About Chloe. The girl in the photo only showed the lower half of her face, featuring the exact same mole in the dimple. Her bare shoulders were exposed as she sank deep into the bedding of a hotel room. Just from the corner shown in the photo, it left endless room for imagination. My heart skipped a beat. The person submitting it was using a brand-new burner account. The caption was just one sentence. "If a girl does something like this, how can she be a good person?" This sentence was leading. Given the current level of intimacy between Liam and Chloe... It was very easy for people to blame Liam. If this post was published, it would kill two birds with one stone. I immediately deleted the submission info and blocked the submitter. The next day, however, that post was still hanging on the confession page. The boring school atmosphere was instantly ignited. By the time I lifted my head from my sea of books, the thread already had over a hundred comments. There were three admins behind the confession page. A freshman guy, me (a sophomore), and a senior girl who had mostly stepped back. I quickly deleted the post and messaged the freshman. "Unverified information cannot be posted." The freshman replied with a waving hand emoji: "Wasn't me." I vaguely felt something was wrong and checked the account login history. It only showed my device. If someone didn't have a guilty conscience, why would they delete their own login history? I opened the chat interface, and the chat history with the submitter was also gone. The investigation hit a dead end. If I didn't like Liam, I could have just walked away at this point. Who dates who, who flirts with who. None of that should be the concern of a good student like me. But, the more books I read, the more I favored the beautiful things in the world. Like the moonlight, like the starry sky. Like Liam. My rule-abiding youth was destined to be chaotic because of him. Although the post was deleted, the hurricane of public opinion spun harder and harder. Some sighed in relief, glad they only had a crush and never actually pursued him. Some cursed angrily, saying boys are really all the same, no good ones out there. Some mocked, saying they always knew he was just a poser. Those glaring red words gave me an unreal sense of detachment. It was as if the overwhelming love I had seen in the posts before was all fake. For the first time, I lied in class. Clutching my stomach, I said weakly: "Mr. Harris, I... I don't feel well." I'm a stubborn person who sticks to my own logic. I don't easily believe what others want me to see. Whether Liam is a good person or not, I will find out for myself. Passing by the faculty office, I saw Liam's mother. Most of Liam's features were inherited from her. At that moment, those gentle eyes were full of hot tears, and she was kneeling in front of Chloe. That kneel almost suffocated Liam. I walked faster—classrooms, water fountains, the track field... The wind howled in my ears, a metallic taste tickling my throat. A walk home that normally took over ten minutes, I ran in five. Without stopping to catch my breath, I plugged in my laptop. The screen lit up, the bottom right corner showing 99+ notifications. I was still logged into the confession page account on my computer. Even if the history on the mobile app was deleted, the computer would still save it on the C drive. 05 I gathered the evidence and returned to school. When the senior admin walked out of her classroom, she spoke with surprise. "Maya, they said someone was looking for me earlier, I really didn't expect it to be you." "Senior, there's something I want to talk to you about." It had been cloudy all day, and as we walked on the track, it was starting to drizzle. I cut straight to the chase and showed her the screen recording. "Did you think that because you could delete the chat history, you didn't even need to bother disguising yourself?" The second person to leak the info to the confession page was an account the senior admin managed. Even though she was careful enough to change it to a default avatar when sending the message. She quickly deleted the chat history after taking a screenshot. And deleted her login history before logging out. But I still found it. The senior admin's face instantly went pale: "You... how could you?" I put away my phone: "How could I have the chat history, right?" "Because you told me before, you have to be diligent." The boomerang of the past was now hitting her right between the eyes. The senior admin opened her mouth, wanting to argue, but couldn't utter a single word. I pressed harder: "After I deleted the burner account's post, wasn't it too risky to use your main account directly?" "Or did you think that by deleting the history, everything would be fine, so you let your guard down?" The malice in her heart had been sliced open alive. The senior admin covered her face, crouched down, and tears slipped through her fingers. I remembered the girl in my memory—sunny, intellectual, warm-hearted. Although I couldn't bear it, I still understood that you reap what you sow. If you make a mistake, you should admit it and apologize. Even a kindergartener understands this principle. "I'll give you two choices." "First, voluntarily post an apology. You can still use a screen name." "Second, I submit the chat history to the school, and you'll have to use your real name." Ten minutes later, a new post was pinned to the top of the confession page. It was an apology post from the senior admin. The photo was AI-generated, a one-click undress edit. The root of everything she did was jealousy. Jealousy that Chloe had money, looks, and even got Liam. After the post went live, the discussion grew even more intense. The senior admin's face was ashen. As she was leaving, she called out to me. "You did all this because you like Liam too, right." "Don't you understand why I did it?" I met her gaze frankly: "I understand, I'm jealous of Chloe too." "I also have very ugly thoughts, but thoughts remain just thoughts." "I didn't act on them, not because I was scared." "But because the essence of jealousy is looking up at someone. In truth, I just wanted to become a better version of myself." "So, I wouldn't torture myself by doing the wrong thing." 06 On the way back to the classroom building, I turned on my MP3 player. At the last freshman orientation showcase, I recorded a lot of songs Liam sang. The rain started coming down harder. The stairwell during class time was exceptionally quiet. Chloe's sobbing was distinct in that silence. Anyone would cry encountering such a messed-up situation at eighteen. But since she was a rival, I wasn't magnanimous enough to go comfort her. Passing through the stairwell, I left a piece of candy from my pocket and walked away. In my earphones, Liam was still singing. "Save me, save me, grant me a lifetime of honor." I smiled, looked up, and went upstairs. The next year, before spring even arrived, my mom asked for a divorce. Years of being a stay-at-home mom had worn away her beauty. When she left, I patted my dad on the shoulder. "Don't cry, I'll take good care of Mom." Time seemed to hit the fast-forward button during my junior year. In the blink of an eye, the seventh year of liking Liam was approaching. He was still a dazzling star, exploding in popularity during my senior year with an original song. Then he got into a music conservatory, participated in music variety shows, started his own studio, and held his own concerts. More and more people liked him. Meanwhile, I kept following the rules: college entrance exams, grad school, enjoying my ordinary campus life. Sometimes I would think, if only I had been a little braver back then, just a little braver. I wouldn't ask to be his friend. At the very least. Every time we bumped into each other, I could have calmly and firmly said one sentence: "Hello, Liam, my name is Maya Lin." Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs." Heaven and earth, we were destined to be two different kinds of people. I opened and closed his chat interface. The profile picture of Liam hugging the Corgi was almost burned into my retinas from looking at it so much. It's no exaggeration to say that even if you gave me a hundred Corgis right now, I could spot which one was Liam's at a glance. The year I started grad school, I worked hard to get into a university in the city where Liam lived. Going from an average state school directly to a top-tier Ivy League university. My mom happily hugged me and kissed me several times: "Baby, you're amazing." I smiled and didn't say anything. Liam, look. In all these years you didn't know about. To chase after you, I kept running forward, step by step, and I also became a better version of myself. 07 Life as a first-year grad student was still pretty busy. When I got back to the dorm from the lab, I was exhausted. My roommate, Lily, was also a fan of Liam's. When she saw me come back, she excitedly rushed over. "Ahhhh, Maya! Did you see the school's official TikTok account?!" I was confused: "No, what's wrong?" My other two roommates, Mia and Tina, were also smiling mysteriously. I laughed along, not understanding why: "What's wrong with you guys?" The next second, Lily pulled out a light stick. I recognized it; it was from Liam's last concert. "You'll never guess! The school's freshman welcome gala this year is going to be a dedicated Liam concert!" The campus Wi-Fi has always been slow. When I opened TikTok, it kept loading and wouldn't show anything. In just a few seconds, I closed and reopened it over a dozen times. Lily couldn't stand watching anymore: "Don't rush, Maya. The official WeChat account has it too. Go check WeChat first." "Oh, okay." I was just pretending to be calm. Actually, my hands were shaking. When the WeChat article finally opened, apart from the gala program list, there was a recruitment notice at the very bottom. [Recruitment: Part-time Spotlight Operator for the 2025 Freshman Welcome Gala] Being a spotlight operator is a highly demanding job, both physically and mentally. You have to control heavy machinery while constantly adjusting to the stage effects. Therefore, society generally assumes that women are not suited for it. When I appeared at the interview venue, the faculty member directly rejected my application. I argued my case, but through their biased lens, it was only seen as me being unreasonable. "Miss, if you underestimate the job and mess up our stage effects because of it, can you take responsibility?" But, did I have to be denied my capability without even being given the chance to interview? I wasn't willing to accept that. "If you don't let me try, how do you know I'm not capable?" "Why are you so stubborn, child? When I say no, it means no!" The teacher impatiently shoved me, trying to chase me out of the office. I was pushed so hard I stumbled, stumbling backward and bumping into someone. The person naturally pushed me back into the office. The familiar voice made my heart tremble. "Professor, I actually think this student could give it a try." 08 The teacher immediately put on a smiling face. Liam took off his sunglasses and mask. He was wearing a white shirt and black pants, looking as clean as a breeze. "As the number one ranked university in the country, I would think your cultivation of talent must be unique and unconventional." "Of course, of course. Come, sit down quickly, Liam." The teacher pointed to the sofa, then frowned at me, signaling me to leave. The intense conversation from just a moment ago was still ringing in my ears. I really didn't want Liam to see me looking so undignified. I lowered my head, tightly gripping the application form in my hand, turned around, and was about to leave. Liam was still standing behind me. As I passed him, he gently grabbed my arm. "Since you're already being unconventional..." He paused for a moment, then continued: "Then having a female spotlight operator definitely wouldn't be a strange thing either." I instantly looked up. Liam was still smiling gently, but his tone held a firmness that left no room for refusal. The teacher sighed, and finally accepted my application form. I immediately bowed to thank him, unable to suppress the joy in my heart: "Thank you, Professor!" "Don't thank me, thank Liam." I quickly nodded in Liam's direction to express my gratitude. I didn't dare make eye contact. This crush was too obvious. I was afraid that one more glance would expose me. "Goodbye, Professor." I walked briskly, almost jogging out of the office.

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