I’m shallow. I like pretty things. Specifically, pretty boys. After asking out the class heartthrob, Asher Vance, for the 99th time, he still coldly rejected me. I overheard his friends laughing about it later. "Uh oh, Asher hesitated this time." "I heard she wants to go to the same college as you." "Are we going to be drinking at your wedding after graduation?" Asher threw a basketball at them in disgust. "Don't associate me with that kind of shallow girl. It makes me sick." On the first day of college, I bumped into Asher at the campus gate, holding a box of freshly baked cupcakes. His eyes lit up when he saw me, then he awkwardly looked away. "Don't bake for me next time. I don't like sweet things." I looked past him at the campus crush standing not far away. Sigh. How do I explain to Asher that the person who loves sweet things is actually my boyfriend? Chapter 1 I’m an average girl. Average hair, average face, average everything. But that doesn't stop me from appreciating beauty. As my mom always says: "Men are all the same anyway, so you might as well pick a handsome one. At least you won't wake up in the middle of the night crying because there's a beast lying next to you." I took that to heart. Since I was little, I only chased the best-looking boys. If I couldn't get the cutest boy in first period, I'd go for the one in second period. If that failed, third period. You get the idea. In high school, most guys hit that awkward puberty phase where their looks took a nose dive. Only Asher Vance stood out. He was breathtakingly handsome. So, naturally, I locked onto him. Asher was smart, handsome, and played the violin. When he stood on stage, eyes lowered, long fingers flying over the strings, he looked like a painting. After his performance, applause filled the auditorium. But the sound of my own heart beating was louder than anything else. The first time I confessed my feelings to Asher, he asked coldly: "Hazel, what do you like about me?" I tilted my head, thought about it seriously, and answered: "You're the best-looking guy in school." He sneered. "Everyone who chases me says that." "Too bad. I hate girls like you the most." Damn. Even when he was mocking me, he was beautiful. I was so mesmerized by his face that I didn't really process what his little mouth was saying. I don't know which part annoyed him. From that day on, he hated me. He hated the warm milk I slipped into his desk every morning. He hated seeing me hand him water on the basketball court. He hated our "accidental" encounters even more. But for that face, I endured it all. I was Asher's shadow for three years. I confessed so many times I lost count. And unsurprisingly, I was rejected every time. My best friends were frustrated. "Hazel, this isn't how you chase a guy. The internet calls this 'simp behavior'." Is it? So be it. I scratched my head calmly. They don't understand. I simp because the view is worth it. Chapter 2 It was Asher's birthday. I stood outside the private room of the karaoke bar, holding a carefully wrapped gift. The conversation inside drifted out clearly. "Ash, be honest, do you have feelings for Hazel?" I stopped, eavesdropping through the crack in the door. "Uh oh, he's silent." "I knew you hesitated when you rejected her last time." Someone started evaluating me. "Hazel's face is mid, but she's got a great body. Plus, she's a total simp, easy to control." "Ash likes the 'butterface' type. Lights off, it's all the same, right? It's all about the feel. Hahaha." "I heard she applied to the same college as you." "Are we going straight to your wedding after graduation?" The laughter grew louder. Thud. A basketball slammed into someone. A grunt of pain, then silence. The noisy room went dead quiet. Asher stood up. On that beautiful face, his expression was twisted with anger. "Great body? Easy to control?" "If you like her so much, date her yourself." "Don't associate me with that kind of shallow girl. It makes me sick." I looked down at the canvas bag in my hands. It had started raining on my way here. I didn't have an umbrella, so I was soaked. But the bag was dry, protected in my embrace. Inside was the sheet music for Chopin's Tristesse (The Farewell Waltz). It was the birthday gift I had spent forever choosing for Asher. I wanted to tell him that even after graduation, we would meet again at our dream college. If he was willing, we would start a new chapter. There would be no farewell. "My bad..." "Hazel isn't good enough for you, Ash. I shouldn't have said anything." The guys inside were apologizing. Asher's friends always had trash mouths. But his answer still echoed in my mind, refusing to fade. Suddenly, it all felt pointless. That face I could stare at forever... how could it say such hurtful things? I gently placed the music book on the floor, turned around, and left without looking back. Chapter 3 The next day, I called in sick for the morning. As soon as I pulled out my books in the afternoon, Asher walked over. He knocked on my desk. "Hazel, homework." His tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction. "Finals are right around the corner. Where were you yesterday? I didn't see you." "I came to school yesterday. I turned in my homework on time too." I didn't understand where his interrogation was coming from. "Yeah, you were at school, but yesterday was my birthday. You didn't come to my..." I couldn't help but interrupt him. "You hate me so much. Shouldn't you be happier that I wasn't at your party?" My voice sounded like a broken gong from being sick. Asher choked on his words. He froze, his anger dissipating. "Your voice... were you sick yesterday?" The next second, Asher tossed a box of medicine onto my desk. "Don't run around after school. Getting sick now will affect your finals." He paused. "Don't misunderstand. As class president, it's my duty to monitor everyone's study condition." "You said you wanted to get into Stanford." Stanford had always been Asher's dream. Even though Berkeley was a better fit for me, I had always planned to apply to Stanford, to be someone standing in his bright future. But I didn't think that way anymore. I decided to apply to Berkeley. But I didn't plan on telling Asher I changed my mind. I just gave a perfunctory answer: "Thanks, Mr. President. I'll work hard." Asher smirked with satisfaction. He instinctively raised his hand, as if he wanted to pat my head. Or maybe I was imagining it. The hand hovered awkwardly in mid-air, then dropped back to his side. Before leaving, he dropped a confusing sentence: "If you have any math questions, you can ask me anytime." "Helping you get into Stanford is also my duty as class president." He emphasized the last few words, as if worried I would get the wrong idea. Or maybe he was saying it to himself. Chapter 4 After finals, everyone got busy. Graduation, applications, results... Summer moved forward methodically, accompanied by the endless drone of cicadas. Near the start of the semester, my best friend dragged me to a high school reunion. Seeing me, she screamed: "Omg! You got a perm! It's so pretty!" "When you get to Stanford, you're going to dazzle Asher, that poser." I felt a little guilty. "Actually, I didn't apply to Stanford. I got into Berkeley." "And I have a boyfriend. We're just waiting for school to start to meet up." Her eyes widened in shock. "You chased Asher for three years, dropped him just like that, and got a boyfriend this fast?!" "How did you meet?" Under her interrogation, I confessed: "His name is Julian. I saw him in the comments section of the Berkeley confessions page." Thinking of Julian's handsome face, I blushed slightly. "I didn't want to move on so fast, but he's just too good-looking!" "And Julian was so easy to chase. We added each other, chatted for a few days, and he said yes when I confessed." My friend squeezed closer, demanding to see Julian's photo. "Holy crap. I approve of this marriage. He is genuinely hot!" Just then. A familiar, clear male voice sounded from behind. Asher stood behind me, a rare, warm smile on his lips. "Hazel, I heard you got in too?" "Congratulations."
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