She looked so beautiful at that moment, like she always did. The way she looked made me want to scoop her into my arms and kiss the temple of her forehead lovingly. Right now, she stood by her locker, staring intently into a small mirror while she fixed every little minute detail about herself. It made me want to laugh, the way she fussed over her looks.

I walked up to her, grinning like an idiot as she acknowledged me with a glance. “Will you stop?” I advised. “You look wonderful, like always.” Those comments of mine had become daily, hourly even.

She finally sighed and stopped messing with her appearance. “You know, it’s your job to say those things to me,” she said in the voice I knew meant she was dealing with conflicting emotions.

“Why?” I asked coyly, knowing I shouldn’t prod her, but unable to resist. “What will I get paid?” I asked, deciding I did not want to hear her answer the first question. She gave me a smirk as she sprayed a small amount of perfume where her cleavage started to show before putting the bottle away. “You know?” I gulped. “I don’t need a wage. My compliments are free.”

She laughed, beginning to walk to her next class. I followed obediently. “It makes me happy when you say stuff like that,” she mused. We stopped in our tracks, standing outside of her next classroom. “If you were a guy I…” She looked at me with the saddest expression on her face. It held so much emotion, so much pain. Her eyes seemed watery, and I wanted to hold her even more. I wanted to ease the throbbing. Her problems played out on her face, and I could not decipher whether she was confused over real emotions for me, or wishing she had real emotions. “…I’d enjoy them more,” she finally concluded.

My heart sank. I could not think of anything to say, my head empty. What did she feel? Was it real? Or was it just a wish? Instead of saying something, I shrugged my shoulders. Finally, words found my tongue. “What’s going on in your life?” I asked weakly.

A groan of frustration escaped her lips. “I have a really important math test coming up, and I’m going to fail it.”

“No you’re not,” I concluded. “I believe in you.”

She smiled. “Thanks.” And then she walked into her class, leaving me with nothing.

I always wondered what it would mean if her affections toward me stopped. If she stopped hugging me, if she stopped touching my arm, if she stopped acting around me like she did with every other female friend she had.

It meant she was confused over me. She even said she was…

Every other girl she knew she was still touchy with, like she was with me when we were definitely only friends. Now there was more between us. We could feel it, a tension: stretched taught and straining even more every time our eyes met. It was like a rubber band being pulled way beyond it’s tolerant stress levels.

I dreaded to see what would happen when it snapped.

I only hope I make the right choices.