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Holding hands. I feel his warm, leathery hand intertwined with mine. It can’t get better then this. I look up at his deep brown eyes and wonder why he is here with me now. I am so utterly average compared to him. My brown straight hair, boring hazel eyes and pale skin that never tans is nothing to his beautiful wavy carmel hair and perfect tan complexion.

He looks down at me and stare in to my eyes. I have to remind myself to breathe. He squeezes my hand before he walks away. I understand that he didn’t want to let go but he had to get to class. I should probably go to first period too.

Since I don’t have many classes with him I was excited to go to lunch. As I sit and try to enjoy my horrible school lunch, I see him. I wave and try not to look to desperate. I was unsuccessful. He gets his lunch and joins me. We sit in the middle of the cafeteria on the only round table. Everyone else at our school hates the round table so it works out ok. Our group of friends sits together and talks everyday. The conversation doesn’t carry to all the other tables of the noisy lunchroom. Which is a blessing and a curse. It’s good because if we need to talk about something private, we don’t need to worry about being over heard. However, we have been such good friends that we know a lot about each other so most of our discussions are some embarrassing thing about one of us. After I give up eating this thing that our school calls food, I just look at him and break out of the conversation completely. Once he notices, he looks back. We stare at each other in silence for a while. I study his perfect features on his face. Then he breaks the silence to start our own private conversation. We talk about our classes and test grades. I am so lucky to find someone that likes school as much as I do. Most kids think that school is a waste of their day but it some people are bound to enjoy learning.

Our conversation goes on to when we should study for our Science final. We decided to study after his hockey practice. As we get lost in each other’s lives, the bell rings. It signals that we need to get back to class but more importantly we need to leave each other. We end up being late for class again.

I go through two more classes with out him. The classes were long and ugly with him so far away from me.He is my sun and i’m the world that revolves around him. But English suddenly got beautiful. When he walked into the room he brightened my day, to change my night to day. To warm me up when I’m cold. To take my hand and pull me out of the dark. He is my perfect sun.

He took the seat nest to me in the front of our white English room. We were studying Shakespeare. I know that English doesn’t hold his interest like it does to me. English is easily my favourite for one of three reasons, 1)I’m good at it 2) It’s the only class that I have with him 3) It’s interesting. Even though it is my best subject, I get distracted by the perfect guy sitting next to me. I think he has the same problem because this is the only class that he has below an A- in. He mostly watches me work, or studies my face when he thinks I’m not looking. Sometimes I pretend to not to notice. Sometimes I sneak a peek at him. This causes him to quickly turn away and act as if he wasn’t just looking at me. Sometimes a nervous giggle escapes me and I feel the blood rush to my face. He likes it when I blush. He gets a warm look in his eyes and strokes my cheek. In which case I blush even more. Or forget how to blink. I need to keep looking at him. I absorb his perfect features, afraid that my perfect sun might disappear. So I stare at him until my eyes sting and I’m forced to blink. For that split second that my eyes are closed, I fill with terror that I might have imagined him. That his warm hand brushing my face to swipe away any stray hairs. I snap my eyes open and relief showers over me; he is really here. This cycle repeats over and over again until the bell rings. I pull my eyes away from his perfect face just long enough to to shove my things into my bag. He takes my hand and leads me into the deep gold hall.

We make a quick stop by my locker. Besides the usual books and pencils, pictures fill my locker. Some are only of him and others, I’m accompanying him. In almost every picture of us, I’m looking at his perfect face. More then half of those he is meeting my gaze. I peel my eyes away from the memories to grab the essential books. I slam my locker closed with my free hand and walk with him down the hall. I smile at the familiar faces I pass by. In some, I see warmth in their eyes. I assume they saw the see the love I have for the boy I’m holding hands with.

As people passed us, we got closer to his locker. We both belong to red house so our lockers are a deep red that stands out in the golden corridors. He stops abruptly at locker number 3777. He doesn’t let go of my hand has he twists the key in the lock to open his locker. That movement was enough that it sent the a slight breeze that was filled with the smell of him. He smells of rain and peppermint, it is perfect. He had only one picture in his locker. It was my favorite one of us. The same one that was centered in my locker. The one of me staring at him while he meets my gaze and holds me in his arms. The one of us standing in the park alone on that cold day in the heavy rain.

He grabbed his jacket and book bag and again lead me through the hall and out the door to the student parking lot. We walked casually to my old, cheap, red Volkswagen. He opened the passenger door for me and walked around the car to step in the drivers seat. I don’t mind when he drives but he does go pretty fast.

I stared out the window as the town of Pittsburgh passed by in a blur of dull but glistening colours. The rain always made the town shiny but dark. He turned to look at me and I could feel his eyes on my back. I turned and tried to read his expression. He looked like he was concentrating really hard on something. He turned back to the road after after a second of meeting my gaze. I kept staring at his perfect face. I wanted to reach out and touch him but didn’t risk the distraction when he was going so fast. So we sat their in silence. Him watching the road, and me watching him.




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This article has 6 comments. Post your own!

chrisfree.fireboltsThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Oct. 24, 2012 at 7:12 pm:
  Wow I would love reading the rest of this story if this is just one piece of it. I absorbed every second of it! The emotion is really descriptive, how her day seems to lack depth whenever she’s not with him. The way that you described the pictures… wow. Keep writing, because that was really good.
 
writer3499 replied...
Oct. 27, 2012 at 6:55 pm :
Thank you so much! I really, really appreciate it!
 
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Angelea said...
Aug. 15, 2012 at 8:38 pm:
It is so great! It is one of those love stories that make you smile every time you read it!
 
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Mr. Kuttner said...
Jul. 3, 2012 at 7:33 am:
Better than Twilight/New Moon.  Romance with no need for a barf bucket!!  
 
writer3499 replied...
Jul. 3, 2012 at 11:43 am :
Haha thanks! 
 
HarryPotterLover30 replied...
Aug. 11, 2012 at 5:23 pm :
Great! My only crittism is that you repeat a bit, and I can't determine exactly if it's a poem or a story, but it's really good. And I agree.  MUCH better lovestory than Twilight. Ugh, Twilight........... someone pass a barf bag!!!!!!!!!!! Really good. Five-stars!!!!!! P.S. Harry Potter RULES!!!!!!!!!! :)  check out my other works please if you haven't already please!!! :)
 
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