I sat at my desk, staring at him, wondering how a person could be so perfect. His light-brown hair was just the right length: not so long that it hung over his eyes, but not so short that it was bristly. His eyes, a deep brown, captivated me; they always had a happy sparkle about them, rain or shine. He sat there, not knowing or caring that I couldn't take my eyes off him. He didn't know how much I loved him.
A note landed on my desk. It was from him. My heart skipped a beat: what did it hold. Should I open it now or later? Deciding on the former, I silently opened the note, hoping against hope that it said that he loved me.
It didn't. The note said: "Meet me after class, right outside the door." Great. Now I had to worry about what he needed to tell me. (Thank God all my homework was done, otherwise I would have had a full plate.) I waited; the last fifteen minutes of class seemed to drag on for an eternity. When the bell finally rang, I felt sick. My nervousness had given me butterflies. I rose from my chair, dreading the fact that I had to step out of the door. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and walked. Out the door. Into his waiting arms.
"Hi," he said. I gulped; at hearing his voice, that magical sound, my mind went blank. "Hi," was all I could manage. I hoped it was enough.
"Look," he said, "I've liked you for the longest time, and I was wondering, well, if you'd go to the Eighth Grade Promotional dance with me." At first, I thought it wasn't true. I almost pinched myself; this was too good to be true. There was only one way to find out if it was real: answer him.
"Yes," I croaked. WOW. I'd actually maintained consciousness long enough to say yes. This HAD to be for real.
"Great, now that that's all taken care of, can I walk you home?" He didn't wait for an answer; he just took my hand and started walking. When we finally got to my house, I let go of his hand reluctantly. As I started up the driveway, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. He wasn't going to let me go yet.
"I love you," he whispered, so softly I could barely hear it. I fell into his arms crying. He lifted my chin up so I was staring into his eyes. The eyes that were so full of love. Then, in that moment, he kissed me, softly, as if I would shatter under pressure. I broke free about half a minute later, kissing him once before dashing up the driveway. I had a date for the dance, and, not only that, this day had been nothing less than magical.