It was almost impossible to not notice him. He wasn’t overpowering like the pungent whiff of roses, but beckoning like the soft scent of fresh lilacs on a spring evening. He was the kind of guy that didn’t have to make an entrance to have others know who he was. Just his presence was enough. With confidence seeping through the soles of his russet Cole Haans, he turned heads. Underneath all his hair, was the color of dark topaz flecked with the wild seaside. His hair was an artwork. All his chestnut strands of hair were piled up onto one sweeping motion. What I liked most about him was his smile. He had a mellow smile that was shared to all. With his lips spreading a grin on his sun- kissed face, he gave a warm feeling to my heart. It turned into a game for me to stare at him whenever he was preoccupied with something else. When he stretched, I could see the outline of his back muscles on his shirt. When his lips moved, I would hear a deep strum of syrup-warm notes. All his faults were perfect. There was no wrong he could do. On some instances, I would have him share a look toward me too. Those days made me feel like a first placed medalist. As I would cross the finish line, he would jump over the mob of flashing photographers and press his sweet lips on mine. Those types of daydreams gave me the chance to imagine a relationship with someone who would never be with the likes of me. I was a realist and knew that those only happened in movies. However, it didn’t hurt to dream. Imagine my shock, when he strolled in my direction after Chemistry class. As if I hadn’t already known his name, he introduced himself properly. Weston then grabbed my hand and shook it. If I was him, I would have broken in a fit of laughter from the way I clammed up. But he was Weston and not the type to do that. From then after, he would wait for me after this period and accompany me to my trip down the hallway. Eyes from every corner bore holes into my jacket. As we headed to the way of my next class, I pretended not to hear the snarky whispers. That I was nothing but a pity party Weston gladly wanted to help. To them, I was nothing more but an amusing sight of a wheelie bound girl alongside a younger Mr. Kutcher.