Fuck. You're failing this class almost, just because of your next one. But math comes so natural to you, so you're not too worried. It's just... ninety percent of this class you use to tap your pencil nervously and worry about what's gonna happen. If he's gonna talk to you, if you're gonna embarrass yourself in front of him... And no, this isn't a crush on another student. You're completely and utterly infatuated with...

... your teacher.

But, if you'd see him, it'd make sense. He's tall, he has kind eyes, veiny hands, and he's emotionally and socially aware. Kind of ticking all your boxes here...

The stress doesn't go away during gym, either, as you go to the locker room you're self-conscious about what he thinks about everything you wear, and how you look. Your friend, Mick, pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Heh, how're you pullin' anyone with a chest that flat?" She asked teasingly, you just rolled your eyes at her and scoffed.

"You asshole." You threw one last playful glare at her before throwing your gym shirt on and shutting your locker door.

As Terik, or what he went by, Mr. G. explained that your class starts bench pressing today, you got excited. The P.E. class you signed up for was weight training, you broke too many fingers trying to catch balls in the other kind of P.E., where you were working on more sports units. Anyways, though, you thought you were pretty strong, and you were, so maybe this class would be good for you, it is.

"Alright, get to it! If you're bench pressing, watch the clock. You've got about ten minutes to do it." Mr. G.'s voice rang out through the gym, and people started going over to benches, when they were full, people just lifted in other ways. "We're working on getting more benches in, I swear."

He smiled at his TA, who he sat down with, talking. Jude. You love her, but you're also envious of her. It wasn't a bad kind of envy, just, damn. I'd love to be in her shoes. You really would! Talking with Mr. G. like that every day without fail?

SHIT! Fuck. Almost dropped the barbell. That'd fucking suck. Cost a few hundred dollars to replace the floor...

Anyways, though. You turned your attention back to your workout you kept your eye on the clock as you pumped the fifty-pound bar into the air at a controlled speed. You watched the clock, but got lost in your thoughts, like in math. He just looked so good over there, sitting at his desk, laughing with another student. You know he doesn't feel the same, how could he? You're his student, after all...

But you can never see the way he looks at you when you're not looking. The smiles he gives you, the way he always wants to help you with whatever you're doing. How he wants to get you water and laugh with you after you almost die running a mile. The way he blushes when he sees how much you can lift... like now... He wanted to go over and help people, and compliment you while he's doing so. He always wanted to compliment you... On.. whatever it was.