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me forward once he notices everyone moving. “After you,” his head bows and his hands point in the direction of the school.
    “Thanks for the jacket,” I slide it off as I start walking, handing it back to him. “See you later.”
    He nods, taking it from me, and I give him one last smile before making my way inside. Can’t we please have another fire drill?

     
     
    The one good thing about gym, (and I can’t even believe there IS a good thing), is that no one can tell when you’re late. Since we first have to change our clothes, the locker room is never actually locked, so as long as you’re ready and in the gym in a timely manner, it doesn’t matter if you’re a minute or two behind.
    These past few days, after math, I’ve been taking the long, totally opposite, out of the way, way to the gym, just so I can pass by Mr. Harrington’s classroom. It isn’t far from the gym; it’s just not in the direction I need to go. It’s such a stupid thing I started to do, but ever since the fire drill, I realized I could see him earlier in the day. I don’t have to wait until the afternoon.
    He hasn’t noticed me, thankfully, but I like to glance as I walk down his hallway, watching him sit at his desk between his first period lab and second period chemistry class, just knowing that he’s here, and that I’ll see him later. It’s oddly soothing, not to mention definitely borderline psychotic.
     
    Today he’s outside his door talking to another student between first and second period. It’s some girl I don’t know, and it’s so obvious that she has a crush on him. I wonder if I look as ridiculous as she does when we talk.
    Now I feel stupid.
    I watch their conversation for a minute, cringing inside.
    I have to change.
    I really shouldn’t be going this way to the gym. It shouldn’t matter if he’s here or not. I shouldn’t feel my entire day brighten when I see him.
    This is insane!
    This is wrong .
    I’m about to turn around and backtrack when he suddenly looks up, spotting me. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes meet mine and we’re stuck in this reverie, my deep browns against his ocean blues. It’s easily the most personal moment we’ve shared.
    The girl becomes aware he’s no longer paying attention to what she’s saying and her hand touches his elbow. I wonder if I could ever muster up the courage to do something so bold. To feel how hard he feels through his shirt. Hell, I just wonder if I can stop gawking at him all the time, or not live for the moments when we have too brief a conversation.
    I need to try harder to focus on something else.
    Something normal.
    The bell rings just as I’m passing his classroom, the hallway now emptying rapidly. I feel him still watching me, the heat of his glare on my back. I glance slowly over my right shoulder to see if I’m right, if my body truly is that in tune to his.
    It is.
    He’s halfway in his classroom as our eyes meet again, but this time, I see something in him alter, like a mask melting off in front of me, for his face instantly transforms into the slightest of grins.
    I practically skip to the gym.
     
     
     

LAB ASSISTANT
    I stayed late after math class today and didn’t have time to take the long way to pass by Mr. Harrington’s classroom. However, in English, the pathetic person I am asks Ms. Harrington if her brother is here today. I don’t know why I admit to the things I do, because it only proves what a sad, pitiful person I am, but I just had to know, to make sure. To feed this stupid sick pattern I’ve gotten myself into.
    “He is,” she smiles. “Do you need to see him?”
    It’s like an opportunity in disguise. I’m easily the best in her class, and here she is outright giving me a chance to go see him. Right here, right now. I know he’s in class, and despite simply wanting to pass by, I can’t possibly stoop that low . Besides, his door is usually closed while he’s teaching. Shit, but if I could just think