I watch you. all the time. When I get the chance. When you stop by to chat with our mutual friend Katherine before classes start. During class changes. And sixth hour. Oh, sixth hour. You sit across the room from me. I sit in the back of the second row; you're in the second seat from the front in the fourth row. I've got the perfect spot to watch you from.
You're so elegant. I know it's odd of me to describe you as such, since you're a guy, but you are. I love your hands. They're so long and thin, made strong and nimble by years of playing the violin. Your hair is so silky and dark. And you're a lefty, like me. That's so cool.
But I'm not romantically interested in you. You're gay; I'm a lesbian. We're both Wiccan. It's like we were made to be friends with each other. But we're not.
Not yet, anyway.
The Quiet Girl in Your Sixth Hour World History Class Current Mood: hopeful