Angel

enchanted

I watch him walk in the class each morning, admiring how he sways and moves his feet. His hair has dark brown roots but as it grows longer, the hair turns golden.

Everyday he sits down in the back of the classroom with his friends, laughing at every little thing they say. Everyday as he makes his way to the back of the classroom, he looks at me with his shimmering blue eyes that cause my knees to wobble and stomach to drop, and winks.

He's friends with everyone, everyone loves him. You can't not love Niall Horan. He's the class clown, the one that lights up the room when he walks in. 

The thing I'm most fascinated about is those long sleeved shirts he wears, even in the middle of the summer. Sometimes I want to pull him away from his friends and lift up his sleeves, but I know what I'd find and I'm too scared. I want to love him, I want to hold him and make him happy. Those looks he gives me, I want more of them. It makes me happy to see him in class everyday because I know he might not be there some day to give me that look.

Today in Language Arts, he's especially quiet. I drop my pen more than once and turn my head so I can look at him, just to make sure he's okay. The last time I dropped it, he looked up at me and I froze. With a smirk on his face, he shakes his head and points one finger at the board.

"Pay attention," he mouths and I bite down a giggle. As I lean back up, I see him take a deep breath and scratch the back of his head, careful not to let his sleeves fall down.

I face the teacher once more and close my eyes, waiting for the class to end.