Dear boy from Statistics class.
please for the love of god (and all things holy) stop stretching with your arms held well above your head as it
exposing your stomach,
and it's driving me
M A D.

do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to not:
lick you? and only slightly shout
"this is mine, I have called it."

also it does not help that you always seem to sit
right. next. to. me.
(what's up with that?)

oh good lord, why are you doing this?
I want you so bad.