Two days later, on Monday,
We were back at school.
Calculus, I knew was your least favourite subject
because of the sour, confused expression
that always invaded your beautiful face.
You didn't speak to me, then again,
I didn't speak to you either.
But we had two more classes together
so I remained hopeful,
remained shy.
Although now, I would call that entitlement.
I thought the ball was in your court
after the bookstore encounter.
I said hello.
You smiled briefly and kept walking.
Maybe it was the wrong time for a greeting then,
so waiting for your move seemed more
strategic.
Or maybe my voice shook when I uttered that terrified
"Hello."
I had put so much pressure on that word,
it was addressed to you, how could I not?
Maybe I wasn't loud enough,
and you thought I was just standing there,
mouth agape.
My brain created endless possibilities,
infinite reasons,
as to why you wouldn't just speak to me at school
on that dreaded Monday.
I put your king in check.
It was your move.
It had to be your move.
