A Ripple Between **CURRENTLY EDITING**

1- And so it begins...

I was walking down the second floor south hallway of Glenwood High School, eager to get to my friend Sam's locker so we could walk out to our bus together, when Alex waved me over. I walked to her locker sheepishly, acutely aware of the presence next to her locker. She was aware of him also, which was why, I supposed, she had called me over in the first place. Alex was a very good friend, so I'd entrusted her with my secret, and ever since she'd been trying to play matchmaker. I just wasn't sure I was quite ready for that. While talking about non-existent homework to seem casual, something we didn't do often, except in dire situations like this one, I kept discreetly glancing over at the main focus of my attention. Alex was enthusiastically playing along.

His name was PJ. He was in my theology and ELA classes. He played the trumpet in the beginning band. He had gym 3rd period. He hung out with Jimmy and Reed. He took honors geometry. He was an avid swimmer (the only sophmore, among a group of juniors and seniors, on the varsity team). And he was single.

Do not automatically assume that I am a complete creep for knowing all this, now, without ever once speaking to him. I was simply observant. My friend was in the same band class as him, and knew what instrument he played. We sometimes, in my third period gym class, would play the boys' class in volleyball, and he had been there. I saw him in the hallway between classes talking to Jimmy, and Reed was the only one that he would talk to, usually, in our ELA and theology classes. My other friend was in his geometry class.

I could've easily told you he was a swimmer, even if my friends hadn't told me. He had the ideal swimmer body (which, in my opinion, is hotter than most football players'): long and lean, with slender yet sturdy legs, wide shoulders, and a wonderful, yet not overwhelming, amount of arm muscle. As unflattering as our school uniforms were, he still managed to look glorious. And now mentioning the word, it also described his square jawline, thick blond hair (which I frequently fantasized about running my fingers through) and eyes.

Those eyes.

I had first noticed them in ELA class on the third day of freshman year. I had glanced over and there they were, piercing blue-gray eyes staring calmly back at me until I looked into them. Then they quickly darted away. This had happened four more times that day, quickly earning him my attention. It still happened at least once on an almost daily basis.

Since that day, I always looked forward to last period, our ELA class. I enjoyed our silent flirtation; although I wasn't sure he considered it as such. However, I remained hopeful. Hopeful my mind wasn't blowing things out of proportion. Hopeful he was interested in me. So I continued my game, glancing over and away again, but desperately wanting more. More than this simple, hardly-there excuse of a crush.

And then sophomore year came, and our classes were about the same.

He walked past us into his homeroom, and I felt a slight breeze. I breathed.

Alex finally packed and stepped into her homeroom for a second, and I walked down to Sam's locker, a few feet from the same homeroom. I picked up my books a bit later and whirled to see if Alex had come back out yet.

SMACK!

I looked up to see who I'd collided with, but they were already stooping to pick up my books. When they straightened, I struggled to hold back a little gasp. PJ.

"My bad," he said, smiling. "Sorry."

I stammered an apology and turned to leave.

"Your textbook," he said from behind me.