Talking To A Dream

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is actually just one of my own experiences written out. It's how I met my soon-to-be crush that I now wish I had never fallen for. This happened about two, almost three, years ago. It was in my third period Social Studies class. Yeah. That's really it. These weren't my actual thoughts, mostly because I was so nervous around my crush that I could barely think at all. Now is completely different. This is probably my shortest story on the site.

Submitted: April 21, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 21, 2014



Talking To A Dream:


After spending the first two class periods in the Language Arts classroom across the hall, I finally changed classrooms. Now I have Social Studies. When I told my old woman for a teacher, Mrs. Lewis, my name, she couldn’t find me on her new seating arrangement. I couldn’t find my name on the sheet either. She forgot to assign me somewhere to sit. How wonderful.


Mrs. Lewis now gets to randomly assign me a seat. In my opinion, I probably got the best seat. She told me to sit in the seat next to one of the cutest boys in the class. I liked his gorgeous ocean blue eyes and his mix between blonde and brown hair. I would look at him all day if it would be okay. I doubt it ever would.


You think I’d be prepared for the second day of school. I was already out of paper. I didn’t put a lot in my binder. I’m going to be forced to talk to this boy. Damn it!


“ I have a sheet of paper?” I awkwardly asked the cutie.


“Sure.” He said as he rummaged through his own red binder for his awfully large amount of paper.


When he handed me the single sheet of lined notebook paper, our eyes met. Damn, his eyes are gorgeous. I love them. In the next second, I was looking down and he was looking away. I have a bad feeling that my cheeks are bright red. Oh well. What am I going to do?


From then on, I asked him for paper a few more times. He kept handing me paper. I knew I couldn’t do the same thing tomorrow though. I would just slip up and do something really stupid. How could I ever dream of recovering from doing something really stupid in front of someone so cute? I guess it’d be different if he’s like one of those really sweet and nice cute guys from all the romance novels. I doubt it. Those dream guys aren’t real. They’re imaginary.  I know I’ve never seen one. I know I’ve never met one.

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