Close Enough.

What is love again?

Romilda Marjo certainly didn't want to be this way. But then again, as fate would have it, she didn't have a choice. A deep, worn sigh escaped her throat. Just a few more days, and she'd be free, at last, of this place that gave her a daily migraine. School. A higher-pitched noise than the regular bell was sounded through her chemistry classroom. Nearby, there was snickering. She rolled her eyes, heavily, for what seemed like the thirtieth time in the past hour. And although she tried her hardest, she just couldn't seem to make sense of the mumbo-jumbo that was her chemistry homework. She stuffed it in her backpack, most likely never to be seen again

The  real bell rung, jarring her from her thoughts of how much she'd rather not be in chemistry. She slung her bag over her shoulder, and tried to distract herself from the very cute boy that would soon be sitting in front of her in English class. The second she entered the classroom, however, she almost regretted coming at all today. 

The entire room was decorated in obnoxious Valentine's Day decorations. Red and pink streamers, a single candy heart on each desk, rubber arrows stuck around the room. Romilda suppressed a groan as she was once again forced to sit behind the seemingly perfect guy. The problem wasn't that he didn't know she existed; her knew, alright. They joked around occasionally, but he was nice to everyone, after all. No, rather, the problem was that she didn't have the balls to tell him, and her ADHD seemed to worsen around him.  That, and the fact that he didn't show the slightest bit of interest in him, even though her friends assured her that he did. 

There was another buzz, indicating that it was time for class to begin. Before Romilda could even begin on her warm-up, however, Mr. Bennet burst into the room, seemingly gliding on the floor. 

"In spirit of this month, I have a new warm up for you today. What, is love? And no, it's not the song by Haddaway." A smile split across his face, while the class was silent. 

"I don't know; good question," Romilda mused to herself, or so at least she thought she was thinking it. The class immediately erupted in laughter, and a dull flush spread across her face as she realized that she'd said it aloud. 

"That's right, Romilda wouldn't know," Tyree teased. She rolled her eyes, and even Mr. Bennet chortled. 

"Anybody else? Except for Romilda, that is." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he took suggestions from other students, writing them down on the board as they came.

"What makes us reproduce!"

"When you can't stop thinking about someone, and you just want to be with them all the time?"

"A chemical produced by our brain."

He scribbled them down, whether their hands were raised were not, and did a three-sixty. Now that he was from behind his podium, Romilda could see his full figure. Was he wearing skates? It would explain his exceptional grace, after all. "Good! But those aren't the answers I'm looking for! I know class isn't over just yet, but this will be your project for your midterm; I want each of you to present me with what you think love is. I'm not requiring a format for this, because I want you guys to get creative. Don't think you can do a paragraph, however. I'll grade you accordingly."

Romilda had dazed off; the boy in front of her was just way to distracting for her to think right now. This totally wasn't stalking right? Even if she memorized his schedule? She knew other people's daily routine. Therefore, it wasn't stalking. It really wasn't her fault if she just happened to have a good memory. 

Which is what she might say if she was straight. Too bad she wasn't and that her real attention was focused on the girl next to him.