She was so shy. I remember the first time I saw her on the subway. She was sitting at the edge of her seat, itching to get off, with both earphones in and her arms crossed over her knees. Her skirt almost touched the floor and her dark purple sweater was rolled up to her elbows. I remember noticing her boots. I was staring at them when I realized she was staring at me.
She was 15 and so beautiful. I was 15 and so dumb. I waited for her to get up at the next stop, but she stayed seated, glancing up at me ever now and again, but skirting her eyes away quickly when I looked back. I caught myself naturally straying her direction, as if she was the center of the universe. I didn’t know it then, but she was.
I expected her to make a rude remark when I walked up to her like “get away” or “what are you looking at”, but she was kind. She asked my name. It was Noah. I asked hers. And then my entire world shifted. When she opened her lips and her name slipped out, it was as if I had never heard any name ever before. Yes, I know I’m a hopeless romantic, but I had never heard of anyone named Daisy-Jane. And at that moment, I didn’t care to know anyone else named Daisy-Jane. Because in that second, I knew; that name was too precious to be anyone elses. And those soft, brown eyes were too beautiful to ignore.
Daisy-Jane. So sweet on my lips and playing repeat in my head. Daisy-Jane. And that was the beginning of it all.