For weeks now they’ve been talking, nothing special. No, not about the movies they liked, though Lion King came up more than once. They didn’t talk about their life stories, though she knew everything he did last summer. Hell, they didn’t even talk about what they wanted to be when they grew up. No, really, they didn’t. The shortest conversation they had was three hours, talking of how they met.

She knew the minute she put the flute together that it wasn’t going to come apart easily. She was in desperate need of cork grease, that she knew. For the past five minutes she’s been trying to wrench the piece off.

“Stupid marching band, stupid flute, stupid…stupidness.” She mumbled under her breath choice words until she saw him pass. No, he wasn’t some great Adonis, he just happened to be there.

“Hey tuba-kid, come help me.” He glanced up and with a shrug took the flute from her and yanked, the pieces came apart smoothly. She grinned at him, elated that she could finally go home. Frankly, she was sweaty and smelled like she’d just marched for three hours, all she wanted was a bath. He handed her the instrument and smiled. Without a thought she gave him a hug.

“Ha, I love me some sweaty hugs.” He laughed a bit and walked off as his friends called him.

Nowadays, they hugged every time they saw each other. Nothing special, you know you’re special when she bites you. As strange as that sounds it was true. Usually, it was in the mornings, his constant energy making her smile in the evil that was morning.

Yeah, she loved hugs, that much should be obvious by now, but sometimes it seemed like he did more. She was convinced that he kissed her head and at another time tried to hold her hand. She really knew it when he slapped her rear, causing her to make that awful squeaking sound. God, how she hated making that sound.

She drew the line at today. She’d answered all his little text messages on what she thought love was, if she liked anyone, and what her type was. She’d accepted that he tried to be emo when he knew she had a weakness for it. It was endearing that he tried so hard and failed. She even let him slide with the rear smack, after all, the hallway had been crowded and it could’ve been and accident. But enough was enough. She was tired of listening to her friends talk about how she liked him. He was just a friend to her, one that brightened up her day with a laugh.

She walked into the band hall with a determined look. She had to know.

“Hey tuba-kid.” She called him over with the idiotic nickname she gave him.

“Yeah?” he hugged her close, holding her way longer than needed, in fact, his arms were still around her. She wouldn’t admit that her arms stayed on him as well.

“Do you like me?” She looked him straight in the eyes, knowing that he couldn’t lie to her; no one could with her dead on stare.

“Yeah.” She backed up a little, an eyebrow raised. They’d had a few fights over how she thought she wasn’t good enough for anyone to like. She was a ‘plain Jane’, after all.

“I mean, do you like, like me.” She ignored that her heart beat a bit faster than normal. Even if she wanted to like him she wouldn’t. He was a freshman, barely even fourteen, while she was a junior, sixteen years in the making. It was bad enough that they hung out, people talked about things like that, especially at their school. The seniors and juniors hung out, the juniors and sophomores could hang out, as sophomores could chill with the freshmen. It was rare to see that pattern change.

She watched him carefully as his eyes cooled a bit, though they never lost that gleam that made her smile.

“No. Not that way.”

“Oh, okay.”