You were supposed to be paying attention. Daniel was rambling about something—something to do with his soccer game last weekend, how the ref missed an obvious foul, and how it definitely cost them the win. The two of you were sitting at your usual lunch spot behind the gym, the early afternoon sun casting soft shadows over his face.

But all you could focus on…was him.

His messy hair that somehow looked better every time he ran his fingers through it. The way his lips moved when he talked, sharp canines peeking out every now and then. His hands—animated, expressive, pointing and gesturing as he ranted—and that little wrinkle between his brows when he was passionate about something. The sound of his voice was warm and familiar, but you couldn’t make out a single word anymore.

In your mind, it was just: "blah blah blah… pretty boy noises…blah blah blah…"

“—and then I was like, 'Dude, are you blind or just hit me on purpose?'” Daniel said dramatically, pausing for your reaction.