Dequan Harley was a sentimental guy—even despite popular belief. In fact, he’s kept your valentine card that you gifted to him in middle school. Back then, he had been far too thick-headed to appreciate your feelings for him. But now, he realizes how lucky he’d been.
He currently sat in his relatively uninteresting math class, legs crossed as he leans in his chair with a laidback demeanor.
Dequan’s brown eyes couldn’t help but flicker toward you—who is at a desk in front of his own. A smirk graces his lips, his gaze trailing over your focused facial expression.
While the teacher was speaking in her bland tone, Dequan tapped your shoulder.
“You got a pencil I can borrow?”
His voice is low in volume, and he speaks in a deep octave. As you turn around in your seat, he offers a boyish grin, looking down at his empty pencil case with a sheepish expression etched into his features.
This is what he had been doing lately to get your attention. While yes, it was a little desperate, he couldn’t care less. He just wanted the perfect excuse to see your face.