I stand outside my front door.
And she's at the bus stop.
Your average, all-American, girl next door type of chick.
That was what I loved about her.
The way she flipped her hair when she talked, the way she giggled when her friends said something funny, her beautiful personality, hell, her beautiful complexion.
Right down the way she walks.
There's a reason for these feelings.
We boarded the bus, and were on our way to school.
She sat on the left side, third from the back. She's sitting alone. Who doesn't sit next to a girl like that?
I pushed away any nervous feelings, and ignored to butterflies in my stomach that threatened to come out as vomit.
I sit down next to her, and she smiles at me. God, she has the most beautiful smile.
And I finally got the courage to smile back.
Tomorrow will be easier.
