In the bustling town of Eddington Valley, Emma could barely contain her excitement at the thought of seeing Alan again—her childhood best friend, partner-in-crime, and constant protector. They’d shared everything growing up, from snacks to secrets, and if there were a record for “Most Hours Spent Together Without Getting Annoyed,” they’d win hands down. Alan was a good-looking kid who always caught everyone’s attention, much to Emma’s amusement. But while Emma loved how much he stood out, Alan? Not so much.

He didn’t care about the attention. In fact, he wished everyone would stop swooning over him and start noticing Emma instead. “I mean, come on! Can’t they see how awesome she is?” Alan would think to himself, baffled by the world’s shallow standards. He knew the bitter truth: most people are too busy chasing beauty that fades with age to appreciate someone’s soul. And if they couldn’t see how wonderful Emma was, well, it was their loss.

The two were inseparable, always glued together like peanut butter and jelly. Wherever Alan went, Emma wasn’t far behind, sitting next to him in class, walking home together—basically acting like they were attached by an invisible string. This closeness, of course, made Emma the enemy of many jealous girls, but Alan? He couldn’t care less. His cold shoulder game was strong, and he never let anyone mess with his best friend. They even made a pact in junior high: when high school came, they’d take the same classes, pick the same electives, and finish school with nothing but epic memories. Easy, right?

Well, enter high school. You know how it goes: everything changes. Promises get broken, hearts get stomped on, and Alan? Well, he wasn’t about to be any different. At 17, Alan’s transformation was something out of a teen movie. He went from the cute kid-next-door to a jaw-dropping prince charming, complete with swoon-worthy looks. Girls lined up to catch his eye, and Alan, with his newfound “I-look-like-a-hero-from-a-romance-novel” vibe, was well aware of his power.

Emma, on the other hand, had undergone her own makeover. Gone was the simple girl from junior high; at 17, she had blossomed into someone so stunning, even her parents had to do a double take. Her complexion had lightened, her smile now turned heads, and suddenly, she had the ability to make boys trip over themselves with just a glance. Eddington High was buzzing with her transformation. But wait—Eddington High wasn’t just about looks or even academics. Oh no, it was famous for something much more... interesting.

Now, brace yourself for this: Eddington High was known for its *two-year summer break.* That’s right, not two months—*two years*! But don’t get too excited. This wasn’t the paradise of video games and endless naps you’re imagining. Instead of chilling out, students had to use that time to pick their future courses. And boy, was it a process.

There were two main course categories: one for the serious stuff like Arts, Sports, Technology, or Science, and another for more creative pursuits like Culinary Arts, Architecture, and even Story Writing. But before anyone could kick back, they had to pass a tough exam in their first-choice course. And if you were thinking the sports kids got off easy, think again! No, their exam wasn’t about running fast or kicking a ball; it was a *written* exam. You had to know the rules of the game inside and out! (Because nothing says ‘athlete’ like an essay on soccer strategy, right?)

Emma and Alan? They had no problem with the studying part. They were always top of the class, so exams didn’t scare them. But the real question was: did they stick to their pact? Did they choose the same course, the same future, just like they’d planned in junior high? Or did life throw them a curveball, pulling them in different directions?

Well, you’ll just have to keep reading to find out. This is *90's Teen Love story *, and trust me, you’re in for quite the ride.

.

During their two-year exam-prep break, Alan and Emma had to go full-on 1990s mode—yes, they wrote letters. Not emails. Not texts. Actual, handwritten, snail-mailed *letters.* Why? Because back then, the closest thing to a "smartphone" was, well, nothing! It was either pen and paper or shouting across town (which, let’s be honest, wasn’t a good look).

They weren’t exchanging love letters every day, though—oh no, they were way too focused on being the school’s top students. Their letters flew back and forth only on weekends because these two were practically allergic to wasting time. In their world, wasting time was like throwing your future in the trash.

I know, I know—kinda sad, right? But hey, this was life in the 90's. No social media, no endless memes to scroll through. It was all about being serious with a side of handwritten flair. Plus, as strict as school was, it shaped students into top-notch future employees—no internet distractions, just pure focus and a few bad hairstyles.

**Chapter 1: Prelude to the Exam Battle**

Emma was packing all of her things the night before the big exam. Her father, George, stood proudly watching, “Ah, look at my girl, Linda! So prim and proper. I promise you, she’s going to end up in a well-esteemed college.” He beamed, giving a self-satisfied nod.

Her mother, Linda, smirked and chimed in, “Oh, George, I know she will.” They shared a heartwarming laugh, basking in the glow of Emma being the shining light of the family.

Now, don’t be fooled by all this parental praise. Emma’s mother loved talking about her… but not in the way you’d expect. Sure, Linda was proud of her daughter’s academic success, but the truth was, she was secretly jealous of Emma’s beauty. You see, as Emma blossomed into a beautiful young woman, her mother became envious. So instead of praising Emma for her looks, Linda decided to criticize her behind her back.

To her relatives, Linda would say things like, “Oh sure, Emma’s perfect for a career, but when it comes to marriage? Ha! No chance. She has only one friend, Alan, and trust me, Tina” — this was Linda’s favorite gossip buddy, her sister-in-law — “even Alan will leave her high and dry one day. Mark my words, she’ll end up alone. Even if she marries a rich CEO who’s the center of attention, he’ll still treat her like a stranger. Hahaha!”

Ouch, right? Those words stung Emma like a thousand bees, but she tried to shrug them off. She wasn’t going to let her mom’s pettiness get under her skin—not tonight, anyway. After all, she had more important things to focus on.

Back to Emma. She double-checked her exam essentials: extra pens, a cute outfit, matching accessories. Oh, and let’s not forget—she even considered dying one strand of her hair brown. She thought, why not look fabulous for her first day of high school? Off to the salon she went!

Now, you might be thinking, "Shouldn’t she be, I don’t know, revising for the exam?" Well, relax. This is Emma, the *topper*. She’s revised a billion times already.

At the salon, the staff suggested, "Why don’t you go for soft curls? It’ll really suit you, and you look so beautiful."

Emma hesitated. “Uh, okay, but don’t overdo it. It’s my first day of high school, and I want to look my best.”

“No worries, ma’am, we’ve got you!” said the stylist.

While Emma was getting her hair done, a group of girls from her junior high entered the same salon. They couldn’t recognize her and started whispering among themselves, thinking she was some sort of celebrity. Emma giggled to herself, thinking, *Wow, I’ve changed so much no one even knows who I am!*

But then, the butterflies hit. What if Alan didn’t recognize her either? No big deal, she thought. She’d just show him the letters they exchanged during their two-year summer break. Problem solved.

Later that day, Emma alternated between revising for the exam and daydreaming. Everything was going smoothly, but thoughts of meeting Alan after two years gave her serious butterflies. Staring at herself in the mirror, she suddenly blushed. “Why am I feeling butterflies? Did I… fall in love with him?” She blushed even harder.

But being Emma, she shook her head and snapped herself out of it. Pointing a stern finger at her reflection and placing her other hand on her hip, she said, “He’s your *friend*. Stop thinking silly things.” With that, she gave herself a firm nod and hopped into bed, excitement bubbling up for tomorrow.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Alan had just returned from vacation at his relatives’ house. He ran to his room, filled with excitement. “I’m going to see Emma after two years!” he thought, practically bouncing off the walls with joy.

His parents, however, weren’t so thrilled about his enthusiasm. They exchanged suspicious glances, thinking, *Is our son in love with that girl?* But no, Alan wasn’t experiencing anything as dramatic as Emma’s mirror pep talks. He was simply thrilled to see his best friend again. Nothing more, nothing less. Or so he thought.

Alan stood in front of the mirror, trying to decide what to wear for tomorrow. Alright, readers, let me stop you right there—I know what you’re thinking. *He wants to look good for Emma*, right? Wrong! Nope, Alan wanted to look “posh” for his exams.

I get it—dressing up for exams sounds bizarre, but hey, knock knock, it’s the ’90s. People were weird in fun, interesting ways. Fashion statements during exams? Totally a thing back then.

Talking to himself in the mirror, Alan muttered, “I hope Emma and I end up in the same class and sit beside each other.” His eyes lit up as he remembered, “Oh! And I have a gift for her. Yes!” His voice brimmed with excitement.

Alan stared at his reflection, lost in thought. *"I wonder how high school is going to be... I just hope Emma doesn't run into any of those weird girls,"* he sighed. *"Ugh, high school girls. When all they have is beauty but no brains, they’re just... useless. I mean, what’s the point of being popular if you’re as sharp as a spoon?"*

Alright, folks, let me clarify—Alan wasn’t one of those guys who only cared about looks. Oh no, he was all about the brains. Sure, he didn’t expect a girl to look like a monkey (I mean, who does?), but to him, intelligence was the real deal. He had no time for girls who were all makeup and no mental muscle.

In junior high, Emma had been the total brainiac, the kind of girl who could ace any test while the rest were struggling to spell their names. But Alan and Emma? They'd been friends since day one. So... did Alan like her because she was brainy? Or was it just because of who she was—his best friend?

*Alan glanced back at the mirror, scratching his head.* "Or maybe it's both? I dunno... I just hope no one annoys her in high school. Especially those girls who think ‘math’ is a type of makeup."

Well, let’s dive into the story to find out more about these two, shall we?

Alan made sure his books—and more importantly, the gift for Emma—were packed and ready in his bag. With everything set, he headed downstairs for dinner. As soon as he reached the table, his mother was on the phone. *"Stephen! George is on the line!"* she called. Alan’s father, Stephen, bolted from the dining table like the wind, half-chewed food still in his mouth. *"Oh hey, George!"* he managed to say, barely swallowing.

Alan’s mom, Patricia, chuckled, *"Look at your father, all high-spirited talking to George."* Meanwhile, Alan was barely paying attention, too busy mentally revising his exam notes (not thinking about those cranky high school girls, mind you). *"George who?"* he asked, just as he was about to take another bite of his meal.

Patricia smiled and said, *"Oh, no one important. It’s Emma’s father, George."*

At the mention of *Emma,* Alan perked up. *"Wait—Emma?!?"* He dropped his fork and, like a true copycat, rushed from the table just like his father did. His mom just shook her head, laughing. *"They’re both crazy about their friends!"* she thought, amused by the fact that the guys in her house would abandon food for a phone call.

Alan, of course, had only one mission now—get the phone! He stood beside his dad, giving him that *"hand over the phone right now or else"* look. Stephen understood, probably because he had just pulled the same move, and handed Alan the (sorry to disappoint, no smartphone here, folks) good old-fashioned wired phone.

*This is the 90s, after all—if you wanted to flirt, you had to wait for your turn on the family phone like a boss.*

Alan, suddenly feeling his heart race, picked up the receiver. *"Hello, sir, how are you and your family? Everyone doing good?"* His voice was filled with excitement, and maybe just a little too much eagerness for a *'casual'* phone call.

Now, George—Emma’s father—had always imagined Alan was *the one* for Emma, even if Emma’s mom *definitely* wasn’t on the same page. (Trust me, Linda was probably plotting something against the poor kid as we speak.) But back to Alan—George chuckled on the other end, *"I know who you really want to talk to."*

At that moment, Alan blushed so hard that he might as well have turned into a tomato. *"Hi, um, Emma..."* His voice came out all awkward and stumbled, because suddenly, Emma’s voice sounded like it could melt a glacier. Forget exams—this was Alan’s *real* challenge.

Now, Emma on the other end? She wasn't faring any better. Hearing Alan’s deeper, more manly voice (probably thanks to all that 90s voice-cracking magic), she nearly *fainted.* Yes, folks, *fainted.* Best friends, and suddenly they couldn’t string two words together.

Both sets of parents were standing there like, *"Uhh… what’s happening to them?"*

For a full 30 seconds, there was total silence. No one could talk, no one could breathe, no one could *think.* All the past years of *best friend-ship* and now they were blushing over a phone call like it was some grand romance novel.

Finally, after what felt like *eternity,* Emma whispered, *"You probably won’t recognize me tomorrow."*

Confused, Alan asked, *"Why not?"*

She just laughed sweetly, *"Good luck on your exam, and if you’re a genius, maybe you’ll recognize me… Haha!"*

That laugh—that *pretty* laugh—hit Alan like a truck. His face turned so red you’d think he was overheating. As Emma hung up, Alan stood there, holding the phone like it was a lifeline, thinking, *"I am Alan, and I will recognize you, my dear Emma."* And just like that, he was blushing again—harder than ever.

Tring, Tring—the old wired phone on the table rang, cutting through the early evening quiet. Emma, still tangled up in the day’s events, jumped slightly. **Oh no, it must be Alan. I hope he’s not mad at me for running off like that.** She picked up the receiver and softened her voice, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Emma! It’s Izabel.”

Emma blinked. **Izabel?** That wasn’t who she expected.

“Sorry about today,” Izabel continued, her voice almost too cheerful, “Michael and I totally interrupted your love conversation with Alan.”

Emma’s face turned beet red. **Love conversation?** She nearly choked on the words, but somehow managed to keep her cool. No way was she going to let Izabel or Michael think they had figured out her and Alan’s relationship—especially since even she wasn’t sure what it was at this point. Were they just close friends? Was there something more? The 90s were complicated like that. Nothing was ever said outright, and feelings were wrapped in layers of unspoken tension. **Close friends… that does sound like a couple, though. Ugh!**

“Oh, that’s alright,” Emma replied, forcing a laugh.

Izabel sighed with relief. “Phew! Glad to hear it. Well, see you at school!” And just like that, Izabel hung up.

Emma stared at the receiver, her thoughts still tangled. *Why does she care so much?* she thought, feeling a knot form in her stomach. *And what was with the ‘love conversation’ comment?* Before she could wrap her head around it, the phone rang again.

*Okay, this has to be Alan now,* Emma thought, feeling her heart race. She quickly picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, Emma, it’s Izabel again.”

Emma froze. **What now?**

“I’m really sorry to bother you again, but… could you do me a huge favor?” Izabel’s voice had dropped from cheerful to hesitant, as if she were walking on eggshells.

“Uh, sure, what is it?” Emma replied, trying to hide her confusion.

“I was wondering… if you could join the cheerleading squad for me. Please?” Izabel’s words rushed out in a blur, like she was trying to escape the awkwardness. “Okay, thanks! See you tomorrow!” And without giving Emma time to respond, Izabel hung up *again*.

Emma stood frozen, staring at the phone like it had grown horns. **What the heck just happened?** Join the cheerleading squad? **Me?** She wasn’t exactly the pom-poms-and-cheers type.

“What?!” she finally screamed, throwing herself back onto her bed. *Why did Izabel ask me to do that?* It made no sense. Was she being set up? Was this some kind of high school prank? Her mind spun with possibilities, none of them good.

And then, the phone rang for a third time. Emma glared at it like it was personally out to get her. She picked up the receiver, her voice cold. “Hello?”

There was a pause on the other end. “Uh… Emma? Why do you sound so angry?”

**Alan.** Emma’s anger fizzled out immediately, replaced by a flush of embarrassment. *Why does this always happen when it’s him?*

“Oh… sorry, Alan,” Emma muttered. “It’s just… Izabel called me twice, and on the second call, she asked me to join the cheerleading team.”

“What?” Alan’s voice sounded incredulous. “No, absolutely not. You’re **not** doing that favor, Emma, understand? And by the way, I’m still mad at you for breaking our promise.”

Emma’s heart sank. **Mad? At me?** Alan never got mad at her, not like this. Sure, they’d had their squabbles in junior high, but this was different. This felt serious.

“Wait… what promise?” Emma asked, her voice faltering.

Alan’s tone darkened. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. We’ll talk then.” And with that, he hung up.

Emma stared at the phone, her heart racing. Alan had never sounded so… angry. **What did I do wrong?** Tears welled up in her eyes as the thought of losing him—a friend she had always been able to rely on—suddenly seemed all too real. She didn’t eat dinner that night, unable to shake the feeling of dread.

The next morning, Emma left her house early, long before school started. She needed to clear her head. As she walked through a small park near her neighborhood, she noticed a garden full of blooming roses. Their beauty did little to ease her worry. **Why did Alan react that way? And what’s going on with Izabel?**

She was so lost in thought, she didn’t hear Alan approaching until he was right behind her.

“Emma!”

She turned, startled. Alan was looking at her with concern. “Did you eat breakfast?” he asked, his voice soft.

Emma, still reeling from the previous night, replied sharply, “No.” She turned away, too angry and confused to deal with him right now.

Alan frowned, clearly hurt by her tone. He caught up to her and grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. “What, are you ignoring me now?” His voice rose slightly, but when he saw the tears welling up in her eyes, his frustration crumbled.

“Emma… why are you crying?” His tone softened, and he reached out, gently wiping a tear from her cheek. “I care about you. You know that, right?”

“Then why did you yell at me yesterday?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion.

Alan sighed, looking away for a moment. “Because… I thought you didn’t take the same exam as me. I thought we were in different classes.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “But I did take the exam.”

“Yeah, well… turns out my dad changed my course without telling me,” Alan explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I didn’t notice until later. I was just mad at the whole situation, and I took it out on you.”

Emma stared at him, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. **So that’s why he freaked out.**

Alan continued, his voice softer now. “And I had to join the sports team, so when you mentioned the cheerleading thing, I guess… I got a little protective.”

Emma blinked. “Protective?”

Alan smirked. “Yeah. You’re my girl, after all. I’m not letting everyone see you in a cheerleader outfit.”

Emma’s face went red again. “Wait… your *girl*?” she stammered, feeling her heart race.

Alan grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Go look it up in the dictionary if you’re confused.”

“Alan!” Emma protested, feeling flustered.

But Alan’s expression turned serious, and he took her hand in his. “I’m not joking, Emma. You’re my girlfriend. Officially.”

Emma’s heart flipped, and for a moment, she could only stare at him, dumbfounded. **Girlfriend?**

But before she could process the warmth spreading through her chest, a thought popped into her head. **Wait… what about Izabel’s weird favor?** Something still didn’t add up, and Emma was determined to figure out what exactly was going on.

And so, with a new sense of determination, she smiled up at Alan, though her mind was already racing toward her next move.

As Emma and Alan sat across from each other in the cafeteria, the warm sunlight streaming in through the windows, they shared a quiet, loving glance. Emma couldn’t help but feel her heart skip a beat. *I can’t believe I’m Alan’s girlfriend...* Her face flushed—*blush, blush*—as the thought sent a wave of warmth over her.

Emma tried to focus on her lunch, but her mind kept drifting back to Alan. She couldn’t resist the small smile tugging at her lips, and for a moment, her thoughts took a whimsical turn. *Maybe one day, I’ll start my own cosmetic company...* The idea felt so grand, so full of possibility, that she grinned a little wider, caught up in the fantasy of it all.

Just then, she glanced up and noticed Alan looking at her. His hand rested casually on his chin, his eyes studying her with a mix of amusement and affection. The way he tilted his head made her feel like the center of his world.

“Ugh!” Emma blurted out in surprise, snapping back to reality. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but the sudden rush of emotions, combined with Alan’s intense gaze, overwhelmed her.

Alan’s smirk grew, his eyes twinkling as if he knew exactly what was going on in her head. “What’s up?” he asked teasingly, still leaning forward, completely relaxed.

Emma quickly tried to cover her reaction, her cheeks deepening in color. “Uh, nothing! Just… thinking. You know, big thoughts.” She waved her hand awkwardly, hoping he wouldn’t pry any further.

Alan raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her excuse. “Big thoughts, huh? Like starting your own company or something?” His voice was light, teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity that made Emma blush even more.

She bit her lip, embarrassed but also a little excited. *How does he always know what I’m thinking?*

“Well, maybe,” she mumbled, her eyes dropping to her plate. “It’s just a silly idea.”

Alan leaned in a little closer, his voice softer now. “Nothing silly about that, Emma. You could do anything.”

His words caught her off guard, making her blush all over again.