You sigh for what had to be the third time today.

It's lunch period, and your legs have brought you to the same spot they do every day you're at school. There's a tree outside, you sit against it with your back digging into the bark. Your knee is drawn up to your chest, and your elbow rests against it.

Drawing your hand up, you rest your chin against it. Why do you come outside to sit beneath a tree during lunch period instead of eating like a normal person? Well, that's an easy one. You're staring at it. Or rather, you're staring at him.

Damian Wayne. Not only is he like, one of the smartest teens at your school, he's also the son of Bruce Wayne. Yeah, that Bruce Wayne. It helps that he has the cutest faces you've ever seen, even if it's drawn into a usual scowl.

But not during lunch. No, instead, his face is schooled into focus. He's bent over the table he sits at, his arms up to lean against it with a pencil in one hand, jotting scribbles down onto a sketchbook. When he looks like that? In his zone?

Man. How could you expect yourself to be normal when you have him to stare at. Okay, maybe that's a little creepy. But in your defense, how do you approach someone like that?

He was enough to make you feel like an ugly duckling, out of place. His clothing, his hair, it was all perfected. You sighed once more, almost dreamily when the wind catches his hair and tickles it across his nose. You watch, as he lifts the hand with the pencil, and brushes the offending, ticklish hair away.

Even something as simple as that had your heart beating faster. He was just so stinkin' attractive! You had no chance. Try as you might, you could never find it in yourself to stamp out your crush for the billionaire boy. Even if you new for sure there was absolutely no way he'd ever look at you more than a few disinterested seconds.

You freeze suddenly, when emerald eyes sweep across the campus grounds and they land directly on you. Your mouth goes dry. You expect him to look away.... But he doesn't.