I wasn't the best at making friends, and I'm not sure I ever will be People always thought of me as the 'weird-girl-who-always-wore- sweaters-when-it-was-hot-outside', Even though the weather in April was extremely hot, I still had my sleeves covering all of my arms and even half of my hands. I guess it was the thought of people seeing the real me that made me nervous, but I'm pretty sure they already knew. I knew he already knew, and to be honest, it didn't scare me
as much as it should have, as it did to the rest of the students.

I sat in the front row of my last period class, awkwardly twiddling with my thumbs, waiting for the rest of the day to be done and dusted. We had a substitute teacher today, so everyone was being a pain. I just wanted to get my work done, but everyone was talking so loudly that I
couldn't even think inside my head, let alone write the answers to the teacher's few English questions.

As much as everyone bothered me, I turned around when I heard his laugh, which is one of my favourite sounds in the world, I smiled at him when he wasn't looking because he then shifted his gaze away from his friends and towards me. He gave me a sweet smile, and I blushed. I blushed so hard I bet I looked like a goddamn tomato. Giving him and awkward wave.

I rummaged through my bag for my journal and placed it on my desk, making sure the girl, I sat next to didn't see anything I wrote inside. My scribbled notes inside were quickly erased as I flipped to a new page. I remembered how his hair had been not styled today, lying limply on his brow. I remembered the way he smiled at me, his oh-so beautiful smile that gave me butterflies in my stomach.

And then I started to write.

"There once was a boy