I hate everyone but you

1. J is the letter your name starts with

On that day, unlike your usual black hoodie you wore a gray oversized zip up jacket with light washed blue jeans. As we walked you urged sudden glances from behind while I bothered not to make eye contact secretly begging you to notice me. I imagine your hands sweat, your heart bounce, your self confidence shift as your luscious hair strides through the wind past me. Your hands wander glistening as they stray dancing in mid air. The thought of you near comforts me. I watch each step on every crack you make trying to mimic before I was abruptly snapped out of my daydream.

Your black fluffy hair was the first thing I noticed about you along with your long lanky arms and legs.
You lived in the area and rode a bike to school every morning. Oh to be that bike.
Your name I memorized, repeatedly spelling it out over and over in my head each time the thought of you crosses my mind. You mysteriously didn't talk much and it amused me into curiosity.
The urge to feel the texture of your sweater with my fingertips and glide my way down your back, stroke each strand of your hair one by one until my fingers go numb has me weak in every limb of my body. I want to feel every one of your facial curves that exists rubbing every dent and spacing of my fingerprints thoroughly. I want to know each and every twist and turn of your skull feeling the sockets in between.