She looks across the library at you. You don't notice right away so you keep talking to your friends, but then she finally catches your eye. Your stomach jumps a little and your fingers tingle as you give her the "what do you want" shrug. You lift your eyebrow at her. She just flashes her confident smile, a smile that goes all the way to her sparkling blue eyes, and flicks her long hair over her shoulder, breaking eye contact. You feel a familiar tingling in the pit of your stomach.
You can't help but glance back at her from time to time. She's working studiously on pre-calculus homework. Finally, you get your award. Just as your eyes make their way to her lithe body, her back arches against her chair and the swell of her breast is thrown into the air. Her hair falls towards the floor, two feet of shimmering golden glory, and that tingle is back in full force. You aren't hearing what your friends are saying anymore. All you care about is her. You are entranced by her. You want her. You want her body, you want her skin against your fingertips, you want her sweating and panting on top of you, you want to kiss—
The bell rings. She gets up from her seat and heads for the door. Her hips swing back and forth. You get up from your table and follow the flow of students into the hallway.
You spend the next three periods unable to concentrate. You see her in your mind, her back arching a million times. You play it again in slow motion and savor the tightening of her shoulder blades and the rise of her breasts. You want to see what's under her lacy tank top. You want to see the black straps of her bra sliding off her shoulders. You want to watch her breasts bounce, you want to make her sweat, you want to hear her say your name over and over, you want to kiss her neck and lip her nipples and—
Finally, the bell rings. Lunch. Let the games begin.
As you walk outside to play football with your friends you see her with her boyfriend. She's wearing the tightest pair of jeans you could imagine. They hug her curves perfectly. You wonder what kind of panties she's wearing. A smooth, sexy thong? Or the kind that would hug her butt in all the right places? And what color? Blue, maybe? Black? Hot pink? You try to imagine it, but can't settle on a favorite.
As if she can feel your presence, she whips around and sticks her fingers in your ribs, then runs away giggling. You grin, and the chase is on. You run to catch up with her and tickle her. Her curves feel so good in your hands. She laughs and screams, "Stop it, Mitch!" and tries to squirm out of your hands.
She finally gets away from you, but she gives you an evil glance over her shoulder as she takes her boyfriend's hand. She's wearing a mischievous grin, and you know she's planning something. As you pass by where she's standing, she reaches out and snatches your hat. She smiles broadly and hides behind her boyfriend, out of your reach. She teases you for a few more minutes before she surrenders your hat. You watch jealously as she presses her smooth figure against her boyfriend's body and he kisses her forehead. You want to be him. You want to touch her the way you know he does. You want to see what's under her clothes.
You want what you think can never be yours.