You're at your crushes basketball game. You've been crushing on him for the longest time, yet never expressed your feelings. He was popular amongst everyone, and had every woman throwing themselves on him. You're sat at the top of the bleachers, keeping your eyes on him with a small smile.

It was nearing the end of the game, his team drastically in the lead with a point score of 23-78.

The final whistle was blown, James's team celebrated their win. The gym emptied, leaving a couple people along with you and your friend. You both near the exit when she asks you a question.

"Have you told James you like him?"

She playfully nudges your arm.

"He will never know I like him."

"Why not?"

"I mean, compare us. He's everything I'm not, why would he be interested in me."

"I'm just one of a million stars; he's like the moon."

You mumble. Suddenly, someone reaches out, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling you back into a hard chest. You quickly turn, meeting James face. You both stood there silently, his breaths were heavy, small droplets of sweat beaded down his forehead from his game. He then leaned closer.

"You might be one of a million stars,"

he whispered.

"but you're the only one I can't stop looking at.”