The rest of class went by in a blur. We did more icebreakers, though I don’t even remember what I wrote. I could only focus on the fact that the prettiest girl I’d ever seen had chosen to talk to me. Even better, she’d offered to keep talking to me, to be my friend. I must be the luckiest guy on Earth.

I needed to tell Leto.

I sat down beneath an old sycamore tree, placing my bag between my knees and waiting for his arrival. Leaves were beginning to fall from the branches overhead, signaling that fall was ever approaching. It wouldn’t be long until the humid summer air was carried away by the autumn breeze, and I could finally start wearing sweatshirts again. I loved wearing sweatshirts. They always made me feel huddled up, closed off from the outside world I tried so desperately to run away from. Sweatshirts allowed me to choose which parts of myself I put out there and which parts I kept private.

Crack.

Leto never could sneak up on me without making some kind of sound. 

“I know you’re there,” I called over my shoulder, glancing at the trunk behind me. I could see the sides of his fluffy blonde hair. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

A moment later, his head poked out, mouth twisting downward in a pitiful pout. His eyes were round as he slowly came to sit beside me, his back dramatically hunched. With an exaggerated sigh, he threw his head back against the bark.

“I can never seem to scare you!” He lifted his hands pitifully to the sky. “You’re impossible, Caspian. I think I’ve only been able to scare you one time, and that was in preschool.”

“Only because you tackled me from the playset. I wasn’t expecting a crazy blonde to throw himself from the top of the slide and tackle me to the ground. I didn’t think you were that insane.”

He chuckled micheviously, eyes glimmering. “I can still remember the look of terror in your eyes. You would’ve thought a wildcat had tackled you over!”

“I felt like it! You had my side bruised for days. My mother threw such a fit over that.”

“Oh, I remember.” He rolled his eyes, sticking out his tongue in mock disgust. “Your mother is a case. The woman can never decide if she’s fretful or apathetic.”

“Apathetic? That’s a pretty big word for you.” I prodded him playfully. “Where’d you learn that one?”

He puffed out his chest proudly, looking like a prideful peacock. “My English class.”

English class…

He must’ve seen the way my face ran scarlet. Raising a brow, he cocked his head. “What’s your deal? I didn’t know you were one to be flustered by literature.”

I huffed defensively, turning my gaze away to hide the glimmer I’m sure was present in my eyes. “I’m not flustered by literature, idiot! I just…”

“You just what? Love Shakespeare so much that it makes you blush?” He poked my side repeatedly, alternating fingers. “Something’s got your heart racing. Tell me! Tell me!” 

He was almost frustratedly insistent, though the glimmer in his eyes was something no man could refuse. It’d be like refusing a sweet retriever puppy a treat.

“It’s really no big deal.” I couldn’t even look him in the eyes. What was wrong with me? “There was just a girl, a real pretty one, who spoke to me. I’ve never had a girl be so sweet to me. And her eyes? They were magnificent. They glimmered like no other eyes I’d ever seen.”

I would’ve gone on, though I’m certain it would’ve only made my situation worse.

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He was silent for so long that I was beginning to get uncomfortable. What was wrong? Had I said something creepy? The worry was building in my gut. It was becoming so much that, for a split second, I could’ve sworn his form was translucent.

Then he let out an excited squeal, the kind you’d hear from a teenage girl, and began excitedly clapping his hands together.

“You’ve got a crush? Are you kidding me?” He rolled onto his back, kicking his feet in the air like a trapped turtle. “It’s the first day of high school, and you’ve already got a crush? I didn’t know you could fall so easily!”

The worry in my gut immediately turned into embarrassment. A crush? No, it couldn’t be that! My cheeks ran warm as I sputtered, “What? It’s not a crush! What’s wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with you?” He sat up, pointing at me accusingly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on your face before. You might as well have hearts for eyes!”

I couldn’t form any words. I couldn’t have a crush. I just couldn’t. That would never bode well for me. Miserable, sweaty freaks like myself didn’t have crushes on pretty, perfect girls like that. We couldn’t. 

We couldn’t.