Jeremiah knew I had a crush on him. At this point, I’m not sure how he couldn’t know. I couldn’t help but stare and I often wondered if he could sense my eyes in the back of his head because he often turned when I was just settling in for a long stare. He always managed to catch me whenever I had time to do some legitimate daydreaming.
I even wrote him short poems and left them in his locker. Anonymously of course. Because he already knew I was in love with him. The signals I had been sending – the poems, the gifts, the smiles. I knew he knew. I just didn’t understand why he just didn’t come out and tell me. I was a firm believer the man should make the first move. But as I was beginning to become impatient, I knew I needed to up my game.
I knew the letter I had been writing would be the key to winning him over for the first and last time. It was now or never. I would have to finish it tonight and leave it for him tomorrow. With it, all the pressure would be off and he would come running.
At noon the next day, I sat at the picnic table by the art department. The letter was very specific, but the longer I waited, the less sure I got. When he finally showed up, he looked right at me before laughing. I was tempted to look over my shoulder to see if he was maybe laughing at somebody else, but I was pretty sure he was looking right at me. I stood up calmly, collected my belongings and headed toward my car. Revenge would be sweet.