She always hoisted that red satchel over her right shoulder any time she saw his short steps, lousy gaits and smashingly milky smile. It was always several seconds to minutes before she realized the reflex.
She loved books, he hated them, he loved to run she hated that...so said the teacher. What deity should she pray to? What deity was that cruel? But still she fancied the feeling and the power of true attraction, even under the cold of the biting winter; the thought of him warmed her, head to toe.
She'd braced for the worst; both in her integrity and the truism in her emotions. Books mean so much to her...’am I not getting insane?’ But true attraction can't be misinterpreted. As she opened the locker, she heard the pow of his flip flop.
Over her left shoulder, she could see him stealing a meaningful and endearing glance at her. "Stop dreaming, he's too good, but stupid for you!" She's always been a good mentor to her self...not when she saw him though.
True love never lies...as she closed the locker, he was standing shyly behind her. She was lost for words so he said: "I see you like maths. I love it too; can we study together?"
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