Winning My Ex-Crush

Fenella’s POV

“Fenella! Come on, it’s time to wake up.”

My body was shaken, and I blinked my eyes because of it. I rubbed my eyes, and then I realized that my mother had woken me up. I got up and smiled slightly at my mother. Honestly, I was happy to see my mother’s face again when I woke up in the morning.

“Hey, mom,” I mumbled.

“Hey, dear. It’s time for breakfast. I made your favorite cinnamon bread pudding,” my mother said as she tidied up the table and my bookshelf.

“Okay, thanks, mom.” I got up from bed and tied my hair into a ponytail.

“Oh, yeah, don’t forget to sort out the items you want to sell at the bazaar after breakfast.”

“Alright.” I gave my mother a quick hug. She chuckled for a moment and returned the hug.

After showering, I sat at the dining table and enjoyed my bread pudding. This was the first time I finished a bowl of bread pudding since starting my career as a model. I was supposed to eat an apple and a glass of mineral water for my daily breakfast, but this time, I didn’t care about my diet.

I don’t know. I guess I wanted to really enjoy the holiday. Maybe later I would go to the gym nearby to burn off the calories, but for now, I felt satisfied and full.

After stuffing myself, I went to my room as I promised my mother. I sorted through the items in my room while my mother sorted through items throughout the house.

I took out the necessary items from my suitcase. Only clothes and undergarments that I would wear daily while I was here. The rest I left in the suitcase because I would sell everything at the bazaar.

Oscar’s shoes, Jemima’s clothes, Baumer’s, and those from other designers. I had already given the Muses perfume to Jessy, by the way, so these were all the leftovers he didn’t take.

I took out the box containing Mallory’s friendship bracelets and put it in my desk drawer. At least this was a memento to remind me that the celebrity world wasn’t as glamorous as I first thought. Even the pop diva had washed her hands of the advertisement and insisted that all the controversy was the production house’s fault. She didn’t even speak up to defend her ‘friend.’

With a lazy sigh, I started taking out the old books I had. I also took out the dolls I had kept in the closet and planned to wash them before wrapping them up as presents for the children. Next, I opened my study desk drawer and took out the trinkets I had collected with my childhood friend.

My hand then froze in mid-air when I saw a console game CD. I carefully took it out and dusted off the square box. Oh, this brought back so many memories!

My heart raced as I looked at the soccer game CD box. I immediately remembered the times I spent in elementary school with Laird. God, I had been with him my whole life!

Maybe to others it wasn’t important, but this game CD was precious to me. This was what made me first realize something that could be called a first love.

Shit! That’s fucking cringe af!

Even though it was silly, that was how it was. Laird Evans was the first boy who made me understand what it meant to care, be concerned, and regret losing someone who mattered. Seriously, that was such a silly moment.

***

The Baxter family and the Evans family were neighbors in an elite area of Boston. My father, Robert Baxter, was the CEO of a national chain of food suppliers and distributors. Hugo Evans, Laird’s father, was one of the best corporate lawyers in the United States.

Our fathers were friends from the same alma mater, business partners, and neighbors. It was only natural that Laird and I would become close. Since we were three years old, we had been playing back and forth at each other’s houses.

Our fathers used to joke that they would arrange a marriage between us when we grew up. Of course, I didn’t understand what they meant, but at that moment, I was happy to have a close friend whom I could call a brother. Laird was a few months older than me, but our birthdays made him a year older than me.

I was an only child, while Laird had a younger brother. Of course, we were as close as siblings, and we often played together. We both attended the same school, and we were always in the same class.

I think I started to notice boys around the fourth grade. On the first day of fourth grade, our homeroom teacher introduced a new transfer student, a boy named Adam.

***

14 years ago, at the beginning of fourth grade…

“My name is Adam O’Neal. I’m 10 years old. I moved from Leeds, England. Nice to meet you,” Adam said with a stiff smile.

Adam had dark brown hair and freckles on his pale face. He spoke with a thick English accent.

“What are your hobbies, Adam?” our teacher asked.

“My hobbies are playing console games and soccer.” The boys in class immediately became enthusiastic when they found out that Adam also played the same console games.

“Alright. It looks like you’ll fit right into the gamer’s community.” When our teacher joked with a fake annoyed expression, the boys burst into laughter.

The teacher allowed Adam to sit next to Laird. I, who sat next to Laird on the left, could only catch a glimpse of Adam. If only Laird hadn’t blocked between us, I could see the new boy in better view.

“What are you looking at?” Laird snapped at me.

“I just wanted to greet him. Why? Is there a problem?” I retorted curtly.

“You’d better not greet him. He might get traumatized coming to school.” He grinned mischievously, and I responded by sticking out my tongue in annoyance.

During lunch break, my friend and I whispered in the cafeteria while observing Adam. Catherine, my best friend, whispered in my ear.

“What do you think about Adam?” asked Cath.

My eyes examined the new figure in the cafeteria. He sat next to Laird, and the boy was effortlessly forming a new friendship.

“I think he’s cute. Did you hear how he talks? So cool!” I giggled with Cath.

“But I still think Laird is cooler than Adam. I heard Laird got back into the Little League Boston team this year.” Cath propped her chin up while watching Laird. I swear, she almost spilled her strawberry milk.

“What’s so special about that? Laird gets into the Little League team every year like clockwork,” I shrugged.

“I think it’s an achievement. My older brother never made it into the team, not even as a reserve. We don’t even know if Adam has achievements as remarkable as Laird’s.”

“Listen, someone can’t be considered cool just by looking at their achievements,” I said to Cath.

“Really? Then how do you see it?” Cath asked, puzzled.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“By their accent,” I chuckled gleefully. Cath still looked confused.

“Just watch, and you’ll soon see that Adam is cooler than Laird.” I immediately stood up after finishing my drink.

“Where are you going, Fen?” Cath cleared her tray and followed me.