I had seen him before. At athletic events, mostly basketball and soccer though. I had seen him at a math meet, which we both didn’t seem to enjoy. I don’t see him enough. Of course, that’s obvious, considering we don’t attend the same school. I had seen him enough to know one thing, though. I had seen him enough to know that I loved him.

I’m not much of a charmer. My friends say I am, but I really don’t think so. Compared to some girls out there, I am totally dirt. I have bright blue eyes. I was always complimented on my eyes when I was little. By my parent’s and grandmother’s friends. It was kind of creepy. But I don’t get those compliments anymore. I have dark brown, almost black, hair, that goes a little farther than my shoulders. I almost always have it up. I am tall, and skinny. Not anorexic, just skinny. But the most blemishing feature I have, is my eyebrows. They are really thick, and dark.

I guess you can say he wasn’t much of a charmer either. Tall, very tall, with a very prominent Adam’s Apple. He has short, kind of wavy, textured brown hair. Very plain. His smile though, that’s what gets me. It can be goofy at times, friendly, or charming, too. Although I don’t get the last one directed at me. He is really funny, friendly, nice, and just seems like a very good person. I like that.

The only problem is … I haven’t actually met him.

Whenever I am around him, I act, well, really hyper. Kind of excited, nervous, boastingly, flirty, and just plain different than my normal self. You’d think I would burst, feeling all of that. Well, I get pretty close.

But there was one day that sticks out clearly in my mind. It was at that high school talent show I mentioned. I had come with my friends, and he had come with his. We were waiting for the show to start, and just standing around. He was standing by the door, with a group of girls, and I was more into the gym. But I could still see him, and of course I was looking at him, sneaking in peaks.

He seemed really bored.

And then it happened. I don’t know if I imagined it, or if I was just dreaming. But he turned his head, and looked at my groupie. My groupie of friends. He looked at me.

It was just a glance.

But in that glance, held hope, nervousness, and excitement. Excitement for the future to come, when we wold both arrive at the same high school next year. Nervousness for his catching on, about my crush. It he found out, it might ruin my life.

Or not. And that is where the hope came in. Hope, that he may like me back. And my life may not end, but get better.