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I walk into the room and my eyes immediately find your frame, hunched over the desk, looking out the window. What are you thinking about? My heart aches for the answer to be me, but why? I don’t know you or your friends, your interests and dreams. Just your name. And, your heart wrenching smile. Your beautiful, heart wrenching smile.
Your head turns as my shoe scuffs across the floor. You look at me and my heart feels like a bird in a cage, desperately fluttering its wings trying to break free. You hold my gaze for a moment before quickly looking down, a grin playing on your lips and a twinkle in your eye.
I don’t know I’m falling, until my knees hit the floor. Stupid feet. Why don’t they work when I’m around you? My books slide towards my seat and I quickly pick myself up, trying to ignore the snickering of my oh-so-perfect classmates. From the corner of my eye, I see you elbow the boy next to you. Shut up, I here you say, didn’t you see that kid push the chair out where she was walking. I put my head down and smile, your sticking up for me.
The bell rings and the teacher comes in, telling kids to quiet down for attendance. She doesn't notice me grabbing my books up, and hurrying to get to my seat before she sees I’m missing.
Too late. Oh no ma’am, I’m here, I tell her. I was getting my books off the floor. Why were they there, she asks. Because I’m a klutz, I want to answer, because I’m a love sick klutz. But instead, I tell her I tripped over my own two feet. Everyone laughs, not trying to hide it this time. Everyone but you.
You busy yourself with your books, straightening them, and your pencil, spinning it like a helicopter blade. The teacher shushes the kids, glaring around the room when stray giggles appear. She comes over and asks if I’m ok. I’m fine, I mumble as I feel the blood spread under my skin, across my cheeks. She glances at my knees and sighs. No you aren’t, your jeans are ripped, blood is running from a cut in your knee. She glances up to the clock before looking back to me, indecision in her eyes.
Really, I tell her, it’s ok, I’v had worse. You glance back at me worry evident in your eyes, your mouth starts to open, but I shake my head ever so slightly, don’t tell her to send me to the clinic, I think. She likes you, trusts you, if you tell her so, she’ll send me no matter what I say. No discussion. No argument. Nothing. A pause in your movements tell me your rethinking, but your eyes don’t leave my face. The teacher rubs her temples as if she has a head ache and sighs, turning on her heals and marching to the front of the class room.
The class starts as normal. I try to keep my eyes on the front of the room, but it’s hard when every time you look at me, my heart stutters, stopping and then picking up again in an unsteady rhythm. I find myself doodling your name in a loopy cursive or drawing hearts pierced with arrows normally only found on valentines day. Why can’t you just ask me out? It would be easier that way.
I close my eyes, lean back in my chair and breath slowly out through my nose. In and out, in and out. What has my life come to? Obsessing over you, a boy I barley know? I am disgusted with my self, but at the same time... can’t get over the feeling I get when I know your looking at me. I sigh and open my eyes as the light tickle of paper brushes my arm. A note.
The girl in front of me waves the folded piece of paper in my face. I see the scrawling hand writing on the crease reads my name. I look to you just as your head snaps to the front of the room. A smile creeps across my face as I take the note in both of my hands. What could be written on this insignificant scrap? An answer? A question? An explanation? Who cares! It’s from you.
My hand shakes as I unfold and iron out the crease. A single sentence is written in the middle:
Lets write a love story of our own.
Followed by a heart with our initials in it.