My Girl

Her.

I watch as she walks across the classroom to her seat. She was art. The kind that was perfectly imperfect and belonged in the finest of galleries. Created with purpose. She is who they write love songs about. The girl who could break your heart in the click of her fingers.

But i was hers to break and i was okay with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This class will be the death of me. I want to be an artist not a fucking scientist.

Maybe this will cure my boredom.

I pull out my phone and click on her name.

I don't think. I just type. About her sweet lips. Her soft hair. Her perfect body.

I hit send before I lose the sliver of courage i had.

I turn my head at the sound of a screeching chair across the dirty school floors. She takes long, fast strides towards me and I feel my heart rate pick up. She slams her palms onto the wooden desk in front of you.

"Outside, Isabelle. Now"