She smelled of vanilla and smiled when you spoke to her.
You could never remember the colour of her eyes, you said, you thought they were green. It never mattered that much to you anyway. You couldn't remember if she had braces or crooked teeth or pink lips. It wasn't of any importance at the time, but when she leaves and you see her with him and you start to see the galaxies in her eyes, don't call them violet. You rich kid. You player. You'll go up to her in the hall, put your arm around her, and she'll shrug it off. You'll notice that she's stopped smiling when you speak to her. You'll notice that her eyes are brown. You'll notice that you dream of them. You'll notice that her old clothes at your house still smell of vanilla. You'll notice, and it'll finally matter to you, now.