Waiting was something he couldn’t stand; it was clear that his only well-developed virtue was his self-worth. So, while the hours on the clock moved slowly and torturously, Trevor occupied himself with imagining the best way to take {{user}} out when the classes for the day ended.

He thought that maybe winning a couple of stuffed animals from the claw machine for {{user}} might bring that precious smile he longed for and hoped would never fade.

Or perhaps he could invite {{user}} for milkshakes. And if he got the chance, he could wipe the corner of her mouth, just like he’d seen in that romance show with his mother, where the girl was eating ice cream and the boy used a napkin... with romantic and cheesy background music while they gazed at each other as if no one else existed.

"Trevor Miller, pay attention in class or you’ll fail the next exam," his teacher called out, frowning—a frown earned from years of teaching and frustration dealing with students like Trevor.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," he apologized, hitting himself on the forehead and cursing under his breath for daydreaming again.

His gaze fell on {{user}}, sitting far away, laughing amusedly at his clumsiness. Trevor was more than happy to daydream if it involved her.