thirty-three.

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I'm blaming you, Parker Benedict Stykes. You're the reason why I've been staring off into space more often than I used to.

What the heck were you doing dancing to Dessert? Or, more aptly, what the heck were you doing dancing to Dessert in front of the whole class?

I remember that day so vividly, even though it was already a few days ago. I was sitting in a corner, next to Carlos and Daniel, my eyes on you as I repeatedly whispered something about beta games to Carlos. You were dancing in a funny way then, jerking to one side and spinning to the other side, making the whole class laugh in response.

In that moment, my opinion of you soared.

I tried acting casual. I really did, Parker. But I guess my acting skills weren't enough.

Especially since you took off your polo by the end of the chorus, Parker. You took off your freaking polo.

And I melted.

And probably smacked Carlos' arm a thousand times while I tried my hardest not to ogle at you.

And maybe I still remember that part where you took your polo off, but that's beside the point.

The point was, Carlos got why I had developed these feelings for you, and I realized that what he told me was right.

What he told me was, "I've found out why you like Parker. He's one of a kind, isn't he?"

To which I replied, "You're right. There's no one else like him in this world."

There's one thing that Carlo has gotten wrong, though, and that's his play of words. I don't just like you, Parker Benedict Stykes. I love you.

There's a big difference between like and love.

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