𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚 | tbp.

HALLWAY GIRL, V.H.

!!! LOVESTRUCK VANCE / "UNREALISTIC" VANCE - if you do not like this trope, this isn't the imagine for you.
No Tw's!
she/her prns

Sweetly scented hairspray, low-cut jeans, slasher novels and red converse - that described Y/N Yamada's discreet yet admirable life.

Being the only adopted sister of three other siblings, one of them being totally hot and a ladies man, basically everyone knew who she was. Girls despised her, misunderstanding her and her brother's playful hand holding and cheek pecks as romantic affection and getting jealous. Boys wanted her, staring in awe as she walked with confidence and pride, knowing she's worth more than she could ever imagine. She had a  What should these people be doing to impress me? type of attitude, and it made her so cocky yet so humble, so incredibly flawless all at once.

Everyone loved her. Bruce smiled proudly at his slightly older sister as Finney Blake gawked, Donna looking unpleasant but refusing to hold grudges against a girl who - as far as either of them are concerned - did nothing wrong. Donna, sweet, sweet Donna, pushed her feelings away with a smile that reads "You go girl!"

But someone caught her eye. Blonde hair that looked soft, a mean face and killer jawline, Canadian tuxedo and white tank paired with dark beige boots - Vance Hopper. A man Y/N couldn't recall off the top of her head, but could picture once she was given a name. Someone she had caught staring at her in class, someone who had let her have turns on the pinball machine (which is apparently his absolute pride and joy, him never letting anyone get in the way of him and his precious game). But never a friend.

Vance himself didn't even want to be a friend. He wanted to be more.

The way her hips moved when she walked, the way her hands held the textbooks she couldn't fit into her bag, the way her lips moved and formed shapes his couldn't when she smiled or frowned or talked or kept a resting face, made his heart drop to the very pit of his broken, empty soul.

Y/N looked at him. He looked at her, their eyes connecting, her flashing a winning smile at him. A thousand emotions flowed through his veins and body all at once and made him completely weak in the knees.

Vance's brain asked multiple questions at the same. He had never been a heartthrob. Why does this girl do this to him? Make him so nervous? Make him stutter, make him wanna curl up and disappear, yet make him wanna hold her in his arms and call her sweet things while he rocked them back and forth, kissing her neck just gently enough to make her grin and laugh ever so softly into his chest and snuggle closer.

Her eyes broke from his and his heart sank miserably. He should've said something. Smiled, winked. Made her blush. Instead he just stood there like an idiot. His eyes followed the back of her head as he shunned himself mentally.

All of these feelings, all of this emotion, all because of a girl walking down the hallway and somehow catching his gaze.

As Vance turned back to his locker, he couldn't help but glance to his right, where Y/N Yamada stood, shoving books and bottles of lotion and sticks of carmex into her bookbag. He stared into his bag, forgetting his school schedule, images of her occupying too much of his mind for him to even think.

He reached into his locker. He pulled out a dusty Polaroid camera that had been given to him for his thirteenth birthday. It was unused and slightly janky, but he didn't care. It had film and that was enough for him.

Just as he angled the camera to his right and positioned it just correctly enough to catch glimpse of Y/N's pretty body and prettier face, she looked at him.

She looked at him, then the camera, just as his index finger pressed the top button of the camera, it flashing and the machinery working its magic. The photo started printing and time froze. Y/N looked back up at Vance and, to his absolute surprise, smiled at him. She was grinning as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, walking away from him, her joyous look never fading.

Vance held the developed Polaroid of her in his hands, quickly retracting his wallet from his back pocket and slipping it in the pocket where his spare quarters for pinball were. His heart fluttered as he took his textbooks from his locker. There was more spring in his step now, and he actually went to his classes. He no longer felt like skipping.