On October eighteenth of my senior year in high school, I fell in love with Rowan Alston. Something about him lit a fire in my heart. He sure wasn’t popular, but he skated and played the drums. His dashing brunette hair curled behind his ears and he wore a dozen piercings all over them. I never understood why no one noticed him. I really hit the jackpot that time, or so I thought.
We met one day on a bus ride home. It was a normal day, just like any other. But the air smelled of sweet cinnamon and gold-yellow leaves were falling from trees, leaving their branches bare.
On a typical Wednesday ride home, I would sit around my big, loud group of friends who liked to force people out of their seats so they could sit together. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t me who was getting pushed around, after all.
On the 18th, they planned a party at the same time I had my orchestra performance. I sat alone on the frigid bus seat, and Rowan sat beside me without saying a word.
“Hey.” I waved a warm hello.
Upon noticing his earbuds, I sat in awkward silence. He pulled his phone away alertly when I peeked over his shoulder.
“What?” He took an earbud out of one ear.
“What were you listening to?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
I picked up the other earbud and listened. “You like Hayloft?” I could tell he was embarrassed.
“No.”
“What’s your name?”
“Rowan.”
I laughed. “You’re in my English, right? I remember you from somewhere.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Penelope?”
“That’s right,” I nodded. “Oh, you’re the skater guy. You’re hella quiet in class.”
“That’s cause everyone else is loud.”
I grinned. “Yeah, my friends are really loud. But they’re fun. I’m guessing you’re not the talkative type.”
“I guess not.” Rowan took back his earbud and got up. “That’s my stop. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“‘Kay, see you.” I blew him a kiss before he took his eyes off me, and his flustered face was the cutest thing I had seen all day.
The next few weeks, I would find paper hearts in my locker. They were pink and cut messily, but they made me smile. Rowan and I would sit together on the bus, ignoring the loud clamor behind us. Soon enough, we would go on dates after school at our favorite cafe.
He asked me out the day before winter break, and I said yes.
My friends didn’t like that.
“That guy? I don’t even know him,” Bella said in disgust. “He’s cute, but I’ll bet you a hundred bucks he’s a loser.”
“I heard he’s poor,” Scarlett whispered.
“You deserve someone better,” Bea sighed. “Like Theo. He’s rich and popular, and I can tell he likes you.”
“I guess,” I said hesitantly. “But Rowan’s nice.”
“He’s not gonna help you, trust me,” Bea rolled her eyes. “You should break up with him before he gets too obsessed.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged.
I never broke up with Rowan.
January and February flew past like a roller coaster. I worked hard on my college applications. Rowan would message me on a daily basis, but I was always too busy or too tired to answer.
“Useless,” my mother said when she saw the messages. “Spending his time on fleeting high school romance. You will regret spending your future with this man, Penelope. His heart is too young, and he will disappoint you.”
I sighed. “You’re right.”
Rowan called that night. “Penelope? Is there something wrong? We haven’t talked for weeks.”
I exhaled sharply, attempting to convey my annoyance through the phone. “I know. Maybe that’s because I’m working my butt off for college applications. Unlike you, who’s spending your time on some petty romance.”
“I don’t think our relationship is petty.” Hurt flooded his voice. I didn’t care.
“I can tell.” I hung up.
I felt guilty, but I knew my mother was right. I would have no chance at success if I married a man like him. It was cruel, but I realized my friends weren’t lying when they said I deserved someone better.
High school romance really was petty.
It was the twenty-third of August when I first stepped foot on the college of my dreams. A blanket of red-orange foliage thinly covered the earth, and some trees stood slightly bare. The glistening stone pathways and marble walls made the campus look royal. I felt like I was living in a paradise. Mother was so proud she framed my acceptance letter and hung it on the wall along with all my other achievements.
“I’m so glad you finally found your way out of high school,” Mother had said. “All that hard work wasn’t a waste after all.”
Rowan had also stopped texting and calling me sometime in the middle of summer. He sent me an envelope with hundreds of pretty paper hearts, and after that, I never heard from him again.
I worked diligently during college. I was popular there, too, just like I had been in high school. I was more than proficient in my studies and felt like life had never been better.
A few weeks before winter break in my second year, Rowan sent me about a dozen messages and even more voicemails. I scrolled through them blindly and put my phone away. I couldn’t afford to get caught up in pointless romance again.
But the pain in Rowan’s voice stained me, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was still in my life somehow.
I carefully opened his package of hearts for the first time and smiled sadly, memories of high school returning to me. Opening the window, I blew a paper heart and watched it ride the wind towards home. I’ll be back, I promised.
I rushed off the airplane, phone pressed against my ear. The airport was bustling with hurried activity and loud noise.
“Please pick up….” I whispered.
My call reached voicemail, so I left one. “Hey, Rowan, it’s been a while. I don’t know if you’ll forgive me, but I missed you. I just finished college, and I’m back home. I hope we can work something out.” I paused. “I’m headed to your parent’s address right now. Please let me know if you’re somewhere else. Hope we can talk later.”
I sighed and shoved my phone into my bag.
When I left the airport, it was already eleven o’clock at night. I quickly called an Uber and arrived at his front porch. My hands shook as I rang the doorbell. The familiar chime sounded from inside the house.
I could hear soft footsteps coming near. I crossed my fingers and lowered my head.
Rowan’s mother opened the door. “Hello, dear. How can I help you?”
The tip of my tongue felt cold, and my voice stuttered. “Is Rowan Alastor here, by any chance?”
She stood silent, looking into the house, then back at me.
“Honey, he passed away four years ago from his heart condition.” she paused. “Didn’t he tell you?”
I could feel my heartbeat halt to a stop. How did this happen? As the black night sky shattered into a billion shards and the ground underneath me crumbled away, what was left of my heart exploded into a hurricane of pink paper hearts.
Art Showcase Club 