We are in a crowded classroom. I can feel your gaze on the back of my head. I know that if I turn around, you'll pretend to be working.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, handing me a note from you. I stick it in my pocket to read later, because who wants something private open for other loud mouth's to read?

Later at lunch, I sit by myself at the geek/loser table. I engage in some conversation, but mostly keep to myself. I feel your presence come nearer, and you sit next to me, your arm grazing my shoulders.

You don't say anything to me, instead you eat and stare. I don't know why you stare at me so much, there's nothing gorgeous about me. I'm a short dreamer with huge glasses and hippy hair.

And yet you stare. I know that if I look up, I'll see love, passion, possession, and hope in your dark eyes.

I glance up a couple of times, but mostly I stare at the slop the cafeteria calls food.

I am grateful for your company, even if I don't show it.

I get up to walk back to my class, which you are in too. You walk next to me, and protect me from the horde of students. You entwine your hand in mine, and my body tingles.

I throw my bag down by my seat, and you sit next to me. We sit in the back of the classroom, near the window so if I get bored I can look out and see the trees and grass. We also sit in the back because you love running your long fingers through my hair, and rubbing my back.

I don't know if you love it, but I sense that at least you enjoy it.

I enjoy the class, usually we share the stories or poems we've written, and our class mates critique them.

You are called up to read your poem. I feel your hand squeeze my thigh before you get up and walk to the front of the class.

I am enraptured by your voice, and how you make the words you've written down come alive in my mind.

And you stare at me while you read your poem, all about a secret love to a best friend, and the hope that one day that best friend will know how you feel.

You make it feel like there's no one else in the room, but you and I.

Now everyone's staring at me, just because you are looking at me. I hang my head and feel the blush creep up my neck, face, and ears. I hate being stared at by so many people.

You walk back to your seat, and I know that everyone is staring at me. Why did you do that? You manage to do that every day in this class. It makes me feel like everyone knows something that I don't.

The teacher calls my name, and I hop up gladly. Sometimes, your closeness gets me so rattled that I don't know if I'm still in control of myself.

I read my story, a short funny thing that has the entire class laughing. I can hear your laugh over all the others, deep and musical. It sends shivers down my spine.

I walk back to my seat, and remember that I still have your note in my pocket. Considering you're the only one who'll see what I'm reading, and the teacher has called the rest of the hour as a free day, I pluck it out of my pocket and read it.


I can't get my thoughts to come out of my mouth, so I'll try writing them down. You remember that day in elementary when we both got stuck in the janitors closet, after our teachers had sent us to get more Kleenex's for our class rooms? I think that was the day that I started feeling this strange feeling. Every time I see you, I feel butterflies and my stomach does somersaults. If I can't be near you, I ache for your presence. I love your voice, alto in tone and yet can sing mezzo. I love your "hippy hair" as you call it; the length is perfect to wind in my fingers. Every time we hug, your body molds to mine, as if it fits there. I could go on and on about how I feel around you, but I'd rather show you then tell you. I know this feeling is love, and I'm desperate to know if you're feeling it to. Please let me know, the sooner the better.



I stare in shock at the letter's contents. I had no idea you felt this way. Better yet, I had no idea how I felt about you.

I can feel my hands shaking as I fold the letter up, and after I shove it into my pocket I put my head down on the desk. I can feel your hand continually running through my hair and rubbing my spine. I notice you are tracing the words I love you on my back, as if I'll get the message. Thank god the bell rings.

I get up, and head out the door to my locker. You meet me there, and escort me to the last class of the day. You're not in it, but you still give me a lingering hug outside the door. I breathe in your scent of sandalwood, and your own personal scent.

I spend the entire class period thinking about you.

I think about your hugs; how strong your arms are and the warmth they give me when I'm wrapped in them.

I think about your caresses; how every time you take my hand, or touch my skin, I get shaky and my heart speeds up.

I think about your hair; how I've never gotten enough nerve to run my hands through it. I wonder if its as soft as it looks.

I think about your dark eyes; the color of cinnamon and mocha chocolate mixed together to create a beautiful, alluring color.

The bell finally rings for the end of the day. I usually don't rush out like the rest of the classmates; instead I slowly gather my things and head for the door. You are waiting for me outside of the door, and this time I entwine my fingers with yours. I glance up at your face, and see the hope in your eyes skyrocket.

We walk out to my truck, and I throw my book bag in the bed. Since we're next door neighbors, we take turns driving to school.

You have the option of sitting in the passenger seat next to the door, but you decide to sit in the middle, right next to me.

And then, you put your arm around my waist. You sneak your hand under the bottom of my t shirt, and caress the skin there.

I drive home, somehow managing to not seem any different when my insides are melting from your closeness.

We pull into my driveway, and I park. I take off my seat belt, and try to get out of the car. But you decide to be mischievous, and the hand that had been driving me crazy the entire way home is now tickling me.

I squirm and laugh, and manage to get away from you. I grab my bag and run to my door, where I shove the key in the lock.
But you're faster, and you get to me before I can unlock the door. You grab onto my arms, and pull me into your embrace.

You lean your head down and rest your forehead on mine. One of your hands is on my waist; the other is cupping my cheek.

I hesitantly place my hands against your chest, and you pull me closer. So close that I'm tucked under your head. You whisper, "I'll call you," then you place your velvety lips on my cheek.

You untangle yourself from me, and then walk to your house, turning around several times to blow me kisses.

The evening passes by so slowly for me. I text you to find out what time I'm suppose to come over, and you reply eight o'clock.

Finally seven-fifty five rolls around, and I go into the bathroom to check on my appearance.

I run a brush through my hair, and pull it into a ponytail.

About that time, I hear the door open. You've always came in without knocking, which has always made me suspicious that you're trying to time it so that when you walk in, I'm changing.

But you've never gotten that lucky.

Your head pops into the bathroom, and you give me a soft, warm smile. "Ready milady?"

I take your arm, and we walk out into the chilly night.

You wrap an arm around my waist as we are walking, and pull me so close that in order to be comfortable I shyly place mine around yours. I already feel my cheeks burning from the blush, and I know you're staring at me yet again.

We walk into your house, and after I greet your parents and give your little brother a hug, you tug me downstairs to your room.

You never told me exactly what we're going to do, because you want me to be surprised.

I've been in your room countless times, but this time seems different. I don't know why it feels different, but it does.

I plop down on your small love seat, and you pop a DVD into the player.

The opening song begins, and I realize we're watching Evita.

You sprawl out next to me on the love seat, and throw an arm around my shoulders. I close my eyes and rest my head back to enjoy the music from Evita.

I feel your hand tugging at my hair, until you've taken it out of the ponytail and bury your hand next to my scalp, which you expertly massage.

I manage not to purr in contentment.

Feeling bold, I take your other hand in mine and kiss it. I feel you place a kiss on the crown of my head, and then rest your head on top of mine.

We sit like that until I go into a light doze. I wake up feeling your hot breath on my lips, and before I know it, you are kissing me.

It starts out as a brushing of the lips, but soon I've lost all connection to the world. There's only you and I, and I'm trying to keep up with your passionate kisses. My arms move to wind around your neck, and I bury my hands in your soft hair.

We pull apart for air, and I see your eyes are filled with desire and overwhelming love.

I realize then that I love you so much it hurts.

"I love you too." I whisper, and bury my face in your warm chest.

I hear your heart beat speed up with my words, and I smile to myself.

And then I hear the alarm clock ringing, and I wake up.