I remember you walked into class and I was unexpectedly rubbing my cold hands on my thighs, making an 'o' face as my eyes go wide. I didn't expect the door to open when I looked over, but you opened it and came in. Our eyes locked and I looked away, thinking about the face I was just making.

Or that time when I was holding the door open, because the teacher just unlocked it. My friend came down the hall and poked my nose. I scrunched up my nose when she did it. You were standing right there in front of me. Such an unflattering face.

And all those times our eyes made contact in the hallway. I would always look away and rub my nose. Rubbing my nose is a defense kind of gesture. I do it a lot, and, unfortunately, I always did it to you.

Then, that time when I was going to gym. This was the first time I saw you going this way. Or, at least, the opposite way I was going. We made eye contact. You smiled—you have such a wonderful smile. But I ducked my head and rubbed my nose. After that, though, after that, I smiled to myself. I must have looked like an idiot, smiling to myself. That smile made my day, that day.

Remember that time when I saw you in the 'T' hallway? I was walking with my friend and I saw you. I grabbed her hand, trying to convey to her that you were there, but she didn't know what you looked like. I was looking at you. You looked down at my hand, the hand that just grabbed my friend's. Later, I joked that she ruined everything for me, because, well…

I was so into you. Those glances, those smiles. Everything.

I am so into you.

I hope you don't mind those faces. I hope you don't mind my embarrassment. I hope you forgive the ducking and nose rubbing.

Forgive me.