So itâ€™s the last period of the day â€“ English â€“ and youâ€™re waiting for everyone else to come into the room. Youâ€™ve looked forward to it the whole day, not because youâ€™ve got some crazy obsession with Shakespeare or anything but because he sits in front of you.
You wonder if he thinks youâ€™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. Itâ€™s weird every time you see him your heart becomes an acrobat and jumps. Ah, thereâ€™s a tingling feeling now that youâ€™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 itâ€™s not obvious that youâ€™re waiting for someone.