He's like perfection. Like all the pieces of perfection fitted together in one human being. My heart raises a hopeful head and creeps out of it's hiding place at the mention of his name. My face flushes when his laughter-filled eyes meet mine.

He doesn't know I love him, I don't know if he loves me. But I know he cares. Every morning, a kind greeting,a flawless smile, easy conversation. He doesn't shy away like other boys; he wants to know me. And I want to know him.
There aren't words that give his beauty justice. Chestnut hair, piercing emerald eyes, perfectly aligned white teeth. His arms are corded and tan, his body tall and lean. I can't stop staring, but I should.

We share fleeting glances. I giggle. The way he says my name sounds like music. I tuck my hair behind my ear. He clears his throat. We both laugh at the awkwardness. No, there is no such thing as awkwardness with him. There are just longing looks, playful conversations, and kind words.
One morning, I had mascara in my eyes. A silly girl thing boys don't understand. My eyes had begun to tear up and became red. His face filled with concern and he asked if I was alright. I laughed and assured him I was. No other boy would have noticed. But he did. The boy I love noticed. So I will always notice back.