So it’s the last period of the day – English – and you’re waiting for everyone else to come into the room. You’ve looked forward to it the whole day, not because you’ve got some crazy obsession with Shakespeare or anything but because he sits in front of you.
You wonder if he thinks you’re pretty, it would be nice if he did. Maybe he talks about you to his friends like you constantly talk about him to yours. It’s weird every time you see him your heart becomes an acrobat and jumps. Ah, there’s a tingling feeling now that you’re thinking about him. Where is he? You look expectantly at the door as everyone spills into the room, and then busy yourself to make sure it’s not obvious that you’re waiting for someone.