To Be Like Her

Jack

"I'm Jack by the way," I said, smiling at the petite girl across from me.
She had auburn hair, about shoulder length, and beautiful blue eyes. Freckles complemented the small dimple she had when she smiled.
"Oh, hey," she replied. She didn't seem as effected as I was by this small conversation. I've been wanting to talk to her ever since she smiled at me in the hallway this morning.
"So, what are you into?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.
"Not much. I like writing poetry," she said, as she took another swig of her juice.
"Poetry? What kind of poetry?" I asked.
"Sonnets. And occasionally odes, if I'm feeling crazy," she said, laughing lightheartedly.
"Odes, huh? What do you write about?" I continued.
The smile fell from her face and she looked down at her empty tray.
"Did I hit a nerve?" I whispered softly.
She looked up, her expression cold. She got up, picked up her tray, and walked away.
Huh.

The rest of the day, I kept trying to come up with what I did wrong. I was nice, I was seemingly funny.
All I wanted was to see her smile again.
There was something different about her. Despite our cold exchange, I felt warm inside. Thinking about her made me feel hopeful.
I'd always formed crushes easily. On guys and girls. Usually just small crushes, which never turned into anything. I haven't even kissed anyone before, which I guess is understandable since I am 15.

When the final bell rang, I dashed out of the classroom and started to search for the shy girl I had sat with at lunch. Alex.
I eventually found her in a crowd of people, but it was useless trying to get to her. I sighed and rested against a locker, clutching my backpack to my chest.
Why did I want to see her so badly?