Does he like me?

                        When we met, he was distant.

                        We played a constant game of tag.

                        I tagged him. He tagged me. We were

                        just two innocent kids running towards each other.

                     Does he not?

                        He punched me in the face.

                        I yelled at him.

                        We both fumed, our faces red like hot coal

                        as we sat in opposite corners, too stubborn to apologize.

                    Does he like me?

                        We sat together in class.

                        He learned to read and write

                        while I doodled stick figures on my math sheets.

                        We worked together well on projects.

                    Does he not?

                        He talked to his friends.

                        I talked to mine.

                        We grew apart,

                        and I never understood why.

                    Does he like me?

                        We had the same homeroom in the fourth grade.

                        He had lots of friends, and I had close to none.

                        Talking to him was brief—when he talked to me,

                        his friends would tease and taunt us.

                    Does he not?

                        He would leave when they teased us, and

                        pretended he wasn’t friends with me—a girl.

                        I’d overhear his friends mocking him and see him blush.

                        “You’ve got a girlfriend!” “No, I don’t! Stop!”

                    Does he like me?

                        High school put us in similar classes.

                        He smirks at me and I smirk at him when we see each other.

                        We both are smart and love classroom competitions.

                        “Ready to be second place?” “In your dreams.”

                    Does he not?

                        I hear that he’s planning on asking someone to go to

                        homecoming. My friends think it might be me.

                        I roll my eyes—the thought of dating him used to make

                        me squirm; but now, I don’t mind the idea.

                    Does he like me?

                        I shut my locker and start going to class.

                        When I’m nearly there, I see him looking at me, and holding

                        a bouquet of pink flowers. His eyes are on mine, but his

                        smirk holds a challenge. He knows I love challenges.

                    Does he like me, or does he not?

                    I’m about to find out.