bare [h.s.]

First Impressions

The board reads:
"October 14th, Happy Tuesday!"
Calculus, fifth period.
The teacher continues on about
a jumble of numbers
that, even though, have an answer
seem impossible to solve.
I tap my pencil lightly,
a habit that shows
I'm thinking hard,
but I'm actually drooling over the boy sitting directly in front of my seat.

He can probably feel the gaping hole my eyes are burning
through the back of his perfectly sculpted head.
And though many senior girls in this hell hole
go for boys who will treat them like
objects or property,
I'm more conservative, and enjoy
boys who will be amazing fathers
to my future, imaginary kids.

I've never been one to chase after
the "bad" boys.
The boys that ride motorcycles
down the highway to hell,
draped in leather
that cuts off their circulation.
No, this boy grabs my attention
and wrestles it to the ground.

He's a math whiz, I bet,
a stereotypical nerd.
Probably reads comic books
instead of porno mags,
and hangs out with his mother,
rather than girls his age.
I heard the teacher call him Elijah,
but I would call him dreamy.

What's peculiar is,
his outer shell tells something
completely different from his personality.
He's fit, well-dressed, gorgeous.
All the while, he loves math,
and school,
and probably Star Trek.
And usually I can judge a book by it's cover,
always being spot on.

I blink quickly before my eyes dry out from staring at the back of
Mr. Handsome's head.
The teacher scribbles down some equation on the board,
but I close my notebook and zone out once more.

The only time my judgment
was completely wrong
was with my now best friend, Ally,
a cheerleader by day,
a raging lesbian by night.
I smile at the thought of her before Elijah turns around in his chair and faces me.

"Sorry to bother you," he quietly begins, "Do you have an extra pencil?"
I absentmindedly nod,
handing him the one
I was supposed to be using
for notes.
He smiles and mouths a small "thank you" before facing forward.

I study every inch of the boy,
the way his hair swoops toward
his clenched jaw
that has a faded scar
running along the edge.
I mentally laugh at
how creepy I am,
and swoon over how lovely he is.
As I take in the beauty of a boy
who doesn't know who I am,
another, sitting next to Elijah,
notices my silent stares
and mistakes who they are for.

This boy,
who really needs a haircut
or maybe a bottle of
conditioner to it,
returns my longing stares and flashes a quick smile
before turning his attention back to the math problem.
I blush and turn a
noticeably bright red,
casting my eyes down
toward my desk.
Though I wasn't looking at him,
or wanting to know all about him,
his smile made my heart pound
and I haven't felt that way before.
Though he thinks my
attention is for him,
I won't tell him otherwise,
and what he doesn't know
won't hurt him.

\\✄✄✄✄✄✄//

i was very reluctant about posting this. im hoping that it doesn't suck so good luck and thanks for opening this

ƪ(˘︶˘)┐ ƪ(˘︶˘)ʃ ┌(˘︶˘)ʃ
*dances away*