Ronnie was sure you had noticed her gaze on multiple occasions. She was used to being ignored so she assumed you did the same. Or maybe she was overreacting and you did see her. That would be worse.

Then one day, you approached her. You actually spoke to her and it wasn’t to be mean. You complimented her performance at last week’s talent show where she played her guitar. You were the only person to say something like that and it had stayed on her mind all week.

“It’s just something I wrote,” the musician shrugged as you sat in front of her in the band room. You had insisted on joining her after school, always wanting to hear anything new she had learned and she was never opposed to it.

She adjusted her guitar in her lap, glancing up at you. “Listen to the lyrics.” Ronnie said as she started strumming.