♡• The Boy Next Door

♡• Chapter Two

We get to school and head to our lockers that are conveniently right next to each other.

Yes, I know. How cliche.

I open my locker and a letter falls out. Lately this had been happening often, but I couldn't figure out who the "secret admirer" was.

Sure, I hoped it was Corbyn but thats besides the point since it definitely wasn't.

"Another one?" Corbyn asked, looking at the letter which was in my hand.

I held up the letter to him, "Yep..."

"Damn, some guy's sure after you."

"Ya, I guess. There's nothing to go after though," I say slightly laughing.

A few seconds later I hear Corbyn say something but I didn't catch it.

"What'd you say?"

"Huh? Oh...nothing."

"You sure?" I ask, wondering.

"Yeah," Corbyn replies nodding his head.

I unfold the letter to read what it says this time.

"my favorite part of the day is getting to talk to you :)"

Well, now I know it is someone that I know. The message was sweet I guess, but it was still kind of...weird that I didn't know who was writing them.

There's a lot of possibilities, I mean it could actually be about anyone.

I go to first period, language arts. As of right now were doing poetry which is pretty nice since I can write about a sad love life which is mine.

Corbyn sat across the room from me with Daniel and Jack.

"Watcha staring at?" Gabbie asks.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," I say smiling.

"Ya know...I bet cash Corbyn has a mad crush on you."

"Nah, you'd be losing money," I reply laughing.

"Would I actually though?"

"Definitely."

"You just keep saying that but, friends dont look at each other the way he looks at you." Gabbie replys smirking at me.

"We've been friends since 1st grade, we just know each other well."

There was absolutely no way Corbyn likes me. It's just impossible.

"Ya, and he's looked at you like that ever since y'all met."

"Alright, well I don't think so." I say, rolling my eyes.

Gabbie hums in a sarcastic agreement.

Her ideas were sometimes far fetched but, it seemed as if maybe Corbyn did like me.

Or, maybe he didn't. I don't know, and i don't really want to.

I continue to write my poem with deep metaphors that only some people could really understand. Overall, most didn't.

So far it went like this,

"You are my
blue crayon,
the one I
never have
enough of,
the one I
use to color
my sky."

And that's how I feel about him. Corbyn is what makes my sky blue.