My First Love Novels & Stories

Title: Last Year, First Love CHAPTER 1 Annie’s POV If I’m being honest, high school has never been my idea of a fairytale. I’m not the girl chasing popularity or caring what anyone whispers behind my back. I’ve mastered the art of staying in my lane, avoiding drama, and focusing on one simple goal: survive senior year, graduate, and get the heck out.

he asked, his tone almost panicked. I shook my head, my voice choked with emotion. "When did you take the gown?" He looked a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. "That morning," he admitted. At that moment, I finally understood what it felt like to be truly loved—something I hadn’t experienced, not even in the five years I had given to James. At that moment, time seemed to stand still. With tear-streaked cheeks, I looked up at Steve’s chiseled face, his expression calm yet tender.

my boyfriend whined causing me to roll my eyes. “It’s not-“ my words choked in my throat as an unbelievable scene unfolded before my eyes. Someone had stepped out of a tinted Lamborghini and I recognized him straight away. How could I not? When this very man was my high school best friend, my first love and now my ex.

Kathryn was my first love. Not the childish kind. The real one. The one that painted the world in color for the first time. She was the girl who made me feel love not as something soft and safe, but as something fierce and hungry. The first girl I ever touched. The first girl I ever made love to. I closed my eyes and let the memories come.

"How do you know if someone is your first love? My mother used to say that first love has a magic all its own. It’s a feeling that no one else could ever make you feel so completely, even if you’d been interested in others before. First love casts a spell that stays with you, making it hard to believe you could ever love anyone else quite the same way. When you truly fall for someone, you often can't pinpoint the exact moment it happens. It’s a quiet mystery. You might not remember how or why, but you know—deep down—that you care for them deeply. It’s like waking up one day and simply understanding: Oh, I am in love with that person. Have you met that person yet?

"Yeah. Atasha Valverde. She was... my first love." The phrase hit me unexpectedly. My heart gave a small, irrational sting. First love. There was a weight in those words, a kind of tenderness you could never quite replace. I took a quiet breath, willing myself to stay composed, but jealousy brushed faintly across my chest like smoke.

I admitted, my voice tinged with remorse. "Well, it's understandable. You still have feelings for him," Malik responded, his voice filled with empathy. I wasn't entirely sure if he intended that as a question, but just the mere contemplation of everyone's emotions left me feeling utterly drained. My fingers anxiously raked through my hair as I paced back and forth, seeking solace near the window. "He was my first love, you know," I confessed, my voice laden with a mix of nostalgia and pain. "Even though he eventually tore my heart apart, there's something about your first love that lingers on, no matter how horribly it ended."

"My god! You make me feel like you are a lunatic." "I might have to kill him if he was alive. I don't like to share what is mine." "Yours? Since when did I become yours?" "You will be one day." "In your dreams! What is up to you today? Are you high?" "No! I know what's mine will be mine." "Whatever!" "But why are you in love with a dead man? What's fascinating about him?" I was quiet first, remembering the first man I ever loved. "He was the first man to be nice to me."