You were perfect.

Not like Fred would ever admit it, he was too embarrassed to do anything like that. He didn’t want to confess, but it was itching away at him, like a mosquito bite that gradually got worse and worse, more red and more red. He denied that he had a crush on you, too, although he’d have to be elbowed in the ribs to stop staring at you.

Today was one of those days, as he walked down the corridors with George, talking until he heard your voice; and maybe your friend’s, although that didn’t matter to him. He stared, but got snapped out of it when George elbowed him in the chest.

“Huh? What is it?”