6th period rolled around all too quickly. I thought about cutting class, but then I decided going wouldn’t be as bad as my mother asking questions I didn’t want to answer. So I gathered up all my courage, and walked into the Driver’s Ed classroom.
The walls were lined with diagrams of cars, naming all the parts we would need to learn how to drive. The familiar tightness in my chest appeared as I sat down at the desk closest from the door.
“Hello, all. I am Mr. Armstrong, and you will spend a wonderful amount of class time with me this year, as I prepare you to enter the brilliant world that is driving.”
“Oh, yes, definitely brilliant.” I muttered underneath my breath.
“I agree.” A voice says from next to me. I turn, expecting to see one of my friends, but instead, I see Marcus Mercer. He’s laughing, and his smile is blindingly beautiful.
Woah, where did that thought come from? I asked myself, shocked. I had been friends with Marcus in middle school, but once we got to high school, I’d never seen him at all. And now here we were, sophomore year, and I was admiring his smile.
“Ha, do you not like driving either?” I asked with a smile, all my previous anxiety dissipating away.
“No, I love it, I'm just admiring your sarcasm.” He replied with a grin.
I smiled. As he turned back to the front of the classroom, I admired his chocolate brown hair, and I marveled at how much taller he had gotten since 8th grade. His muscles had gotten bigger, too, I noted with a smile.
I caught myself. No, he was my friend! I told my brain. You can’t think about him like that, it’s just wrong. But as he turned around and smiled at me, I thought, was it?