Damn it All

He was handsome, God damn it.

He was handsome, and he knew it.

Everyone knew it. That's why wherever he went; he always felt a pair of eyes watching him from behind. That's why girls of all ages were constantly asking him to help with something. That's why so many of his friends consisted of girls who simply thought of him as 'the best friend that means the world to them'. That's why all of those girls eventually came onto him. That's why he got away with so much stupid shit whenever the teacher was a girl. That's why most guys admired him, wanted to be like him. That's why his little sister's friends always came to their house to play. That's why even his own brother's wife would gape at him. That's why his mother is so surprised he still hasn't found a girl to settle down with. That's why it's so fucking hard for him to fall in love.

He was handsome, God damn it.

And he hated it.

He was handsome, God damn it.

He was handsome, and she knew it.

She wasn't blind. Sure, sometimes she was a bit of a ditz, lost in a daydream wishing for a crazy adventure that just didn't happen in 'the real world'. But she wasn't blind…for awhile. At first, she didn't notice it. If anything, she never thought it too important to really catalogue anything about him in her mind. To her, it was all business. She had other things on her mind – other people. Until the day, he realized she didn't recognize him when he stopped to say 'hi'. He was irate, and she felt stupid…like a ditz. The ditz they all thought she was. So, she finally took the time to look at him. Really look at him, memorize his face, his strong jaw, his honeyed hair, his giant smile, his goofy ears, his perfect nose, his pouty lips, his everything. Especially those eyes, those hazel eyes, those eyes that would darken, glisten, and get so big – those beautiful, glorious, beautiful eyes.

He was handsome, God damn it.

But that's not why she fell in love.

He was handsome, God damn it.

He was handsome, and everyone usually knew it.

But not her, apparently not her. She never looks him in the eye. Whenever she spoke to him, it was with boredom or disinterest. She rarely even smiled for him. She never laughed, and when he'd try to make her laugh he'd watch her face scrunch up as she did everything she could to fight it. Sometimes she'll glare at him if he's not doing a good job. This is the first time he's ever felt nervous…unconfident…inferior…bad at what he was doing. Normally, he was on top of the world and no one could touch him. This was the first time he felt like he wasn't doing good enough. Of course, usually all the male students listened to him intently and gave nothing but respect and admiration. Usually all the female students hung onto his every word, and never stopped paying attention. Sometimes she would. Sometimes she'd roll her eyes and look away waiting for it to be over. Sometimes she'll frown deeply and try her best to cover it up, as not to seem rude. All the time, she makes her "hello's" and her "good-bye's" quick. Short. And dead.

He was handsome, God damn it.

And she didn't give a crap.

He was handsome, God damn it.

And it was slowly killing her inside.

She had to time all of her glances, so he wouldn't suspect a thing. Look just enough, so he doesn't know you're avoiding his gaze. Look just not enough, so he has no clue you're admiring his face. Sniff the air when he isn't looking, so you can memorize that scent of Italian food…probably homemade from ancient family recipes. He must be cultured. And it's killing her. It's killing her, that this beautiful man, with the beautiful background, with the beautiful talents, is standing before her in all his glory…and he has no clue it's slowly killing her on the inside. Because she's fallen. She doesn't quite understand why, but she has. She wishes terribly on the inside to beg him to stop making her fall for him, but she can't…because than he'll know…and it'll be the end of the world….at least…it could be. Because she can't be sure of what she's thinking. What's she got on her mind. What he might be thinking. What's been driving her crazy. She could be wrong. She could be right. She doesn't know. All she knows is that this man here is beautiful, but for some terribly, torturous, malicious reason…he keeps looking at her. With those hazel eyes…large, darkened, glistening...like he wants something. Like he wants her. But how could this beautiful man possibly want her?

He was handsome, God damn it.

Too handsome for her.

He was handsome, God damn it.

But she would not, fucking, look at him that way.

She still ignored the fact he was handsome. He wasn't a narcissist, but normally, people at least acknowledged the fact he was a good looking fella. She didn't seem to care. If anything, she seemed to get annoyed with him half the time he's teaching. How could she? He's the teacher, she's the student. She should respect him. The worst part? She tries. He knows she's trying really hard to respect him. To be polite. To be a good pupil. To be anything but personal. It was all business with her. And he hated it. Where were the obnoxious giggles? Where were the secret smiles? Where were the quick little winks? Where were the pulled up skirts and pulled down blouses? Where were the flirts, the curts, and all those similar sorts? It wasn't that he needed every girl to fall for him. He just…he just…

He was handsome, God damn it.

And he wanted her to see that.

He was handsome, God damn it.

And she was trying so hard to ignore it.

People always say your eyes give away who you are, how you're feeling…it was the window to your soul. That wasn't the case for her. She knew, all her life, what gave her way was always her smile, her laugh, and the way she'd speak too loud, speak too fast. People always told her she was easier to read than a Magic Tree House book. So she makes sure to never shine those ridiculous grins of hers, laugh those silly chortles, or speak a volume louder than a pin hitting the floor. She would be quiet, polite, and graceful. She would do everything a good student would do. So he would never see the real her and her real feelings. Everything a student should do, despite being alone with a beautiful man in a small room every week. Because he was the teacher. She was the student. The fact they were alone together so much would normally incite gossip or rumors, but because she was so good it didn't. Because she knew how to behave. She knew how to hide herself. She knew how to never let him know how she felt. She knew how to ignore those eyes every time they looked at her. The only thing she didn't know how to ignore were those frowns he'd get, or that furrow in his brow when he was mad. When he didn't know what to do, because she wouldn't be anything but the perfect student…she couldn't ignore it. So sometimes, she'd run off right after their lesson and…run. Run until she felt her legs go numb. Run until she was out of breath because she was tired, not because she couldn't breathe. Run until her heart beat fast because she exerted herself, not because of him. Run so she could leave behind the idea that quite possibly…just possibly…maybe he felt something. But the problem is…

He was handsome, God damn it.

Handsome boys, and men, don't like girls like her.

She was different, God damn it.

She was different, God damn it.

And it was driving him insane.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to be the one everyone adored. He was supposed to be the one every girl noticed. He was supposed to ignore these girls and carry on. He was supposed to be teaching a girl who barely listened and spent time just ogling him. He was never supposed to…he couldn't help it.

She was different, God damn it.

She was different.

She was different, God damn it,

And there was only one boy in the world that ever loved her for it.

There was always only one boy on her mind. He was gone now, from her life. But she loved him. She really, honestly, truly, always, did. You know what they say about first love. It was always the deepest cut. The hardest to get over. The one you would never forget. She never would. Because very few could accept her, for whom she was. For being loud, for being fast, for being different. He was the only one who would ever look at her that way. The only one who found it attractive. The only one who would give her those big, dark, glistening eyes. The way that he was looking at her now. She wishes he wouldn't. Because it's impossible for anything to happen. She wasn't ready to wish for the impossible…not again. She just wanted to hide away. No second glances, no second thoughts…she wanted to be a shadow in the scene. But he saw her, and he won't stop looking at her. He really shouldn't.

She was different, God damn it.

She didn't deserve a love like his.

She was different, God damn it.

And he liked it.

He liked the little quirks she'd try to hide that bloomed in the sunlight, when she thought no one was looking. He liked how she whistled everything from show tunes, to pop songs, to classical music. He liked how she skipped over all the cracks in the concrete, and ran across brick garden walls. He liked how she'd scuttle over to everything, playing with the heels of her shoes. He liked how she'd make hand puppets with her hands when she was bored. He liked how she'd cover her mouth to hide that sarcastic little smirk. He liked how her eyes would get big and wide when she thought something was cool, or she was watching the clouds in the sky. He liked how big and pink her lips would get whenever she smiled. He liked how she had trouble not smiling. He liked how she'd snort and laugh, hard and loud. He liked her.

She was different, God damn it.

And he liked her.

She was different, God damn it.

Yet he liked her.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was mistaken, but there was no mistaking that look. She knew it. She knew it in the way he was careful not to touch her. She knew it in the way he'd linger at the door when he said his long "hello's" and "goodbye's". She knew it in the way he'd drop his voice and make it warm, just for her. To feel welcomed, to feel like she belonged. To feel at home. She knew it in the way he'd tug his collar and fix his hair when he didn't know what to say. She knew it in the way he'd try so hard to make her laugh. She knew it in the way he'd get so excited when he managed to make smile – for real. She knew it in the way he'd look at her as though she was worth looking at. But she can't fall for him. And he's not supposed to fall for her. Because…

She was different, God damn it.

And his student.

She was different, God damn it.

And his student.

He really shouldn't be wanting her. He really shouldn't be thinking of her. He really shouldn't be trying to pursuit her. But with every moment alone spent with her, he can't help it. He can't help but wish for her when she's there, and miss her when she's not. He can't help but time his glances and hope she doesn't realize how he's feeling. He can't help but memorize her hair, her eyes, her everything. He can't help but sniff the air and catch a whiff of that spiced perfume she always wore. He can't help but dream of it. He can't help but let his eyes fall onto her whenever she entered the room, or crossed his way. He can't help but hope she felt the same. He can't help that he's nervous. He can't help that's never been so unsure in his life. He can't help that his heart feels like it's going to fall right out of his chest. He can't help that he's falling.

It was love, God damn it.

It was love.

It was love, God damn it.

But she couldn't let this happen.

Not just because she was his student. Not just because this was frowned upon. Not just because it was wrong. But because he deserved better. He deserved a girl of his caliber. He deserved someone more special. He deserved a girl who wasn't so different. He deserved someone just as beautiful as him. She knew how he felt, and she was so sure he was starting to peel away at her mask as well. She couldn't let it happen. She couldn't let him risk everything for a girl like her. He deserved better. She had to do something…because…

It was love, God damn it.

She wouldn't let him ruin everything.

It was love, God damn it.

And she was out to ruin everything.

She was transferring. He knew why she was doing this. He understood she could tell the air has shifted and things have changed. He knew she knew how he felt. He still had to wonder if she felt the same. Maybe she didn't, if she was going through such lengths to get away from him. Maybe she did, if she was going through such lengths to avoid him. What could he say to her? To stop her? To make her stay. He didn't want her to go away.

It was love, God damn it.

He didn't want to lose her already.

It was love, God damn it.

That's why she was doing this.

He asked her. She didn't completely lie. She told him she felt the situation was no longer appropriate. She didn't tell him it was for him. She didn't tell him she was trying to save him. Save him from the risks. Save him from the trouble. Save him from wanting a girl who would never be good enough for him. She didn't tell him she felt the same. She didn't him the complete truth.

It was love, God damn it.

That's why she was doing this.

It was love, God damn it.

Why couldn't she see it?

Why couldn't she see he wanted her? Why couldn't she see he would protect her? Why couldn't she see he would cherish her? Why couldn't she see he would adore her? Why couldn't she see he would love her? These were all the questions going through his mind, as she gave that quick "goodbye" and headed out the door. These were all the questions rushing through his brain, as he ran out that door after her. These were all the questions that were screaming out from his heart, as he pulled her back. These were all the questions he asked wordlessly as he had her in his arms – for the first time. Pressed up between him and the chilled brick. He wanted to keep her forever. Suddenly, all the answers he ever wanted came at him in full force when he looked at her, and really looked at her. Square in the eye. His look dark, glistening, and wanting.

It was love, God damn it.

In her eyes, he saw it.

It was love, God damn it.

That's why she had to leave.

That's why she shoved him away and glared at him. That's why she pulled away, as he took her arm once more. That's why she tried to cover her ears as he yelled and screamed. That's why it killed her on the inside to hear him sound so desperate, so sad. That's why she couldn't help but cry when he finally let her go. That's why after only a few steps, she turned on her heel and ran back into those arms. Those wanting, caring, protecting, warm, arms.

It was love, God damn it.

And she wasn't going to ignore it any longer.

It was love, God damn it.

In his hold. In her smile. In his eyes. In her laugh. In their kiss.

It was love.

Damn it All