Autumn of 2009

I am going to die. Right here. Her bed. Not because of some freak accident or some cosmic punishment for being the world's biggest nerd, but because my heart is actually going to explode from sheer, unfiltered her-ness. I'm supposed to be helping her with algebra—algebra—but how am I supposed to think about numbers when she's standing there, messing with a hot pink cassette player like it's the most normal thing in the world? And then Avril Lavigne starts playing. Avril Lavigne. I don't even know why that makes my brain short-circuit, but it does. It's like the soundtrack to every unrealistic daydream I've ever had about her, except this is real, and she's actually here, and I'm actually in her room.

She moves to the music, swaying her hips as she walks back toward the bed, and I swear I stop breathing. It's not even like she's trying to be seductive or anything—she's just being her. Effortless. Cool. The kind of girl who doesn't have to try. She sits down next to me, way too close, and my entire body tenses. I can smell her perfume—something sweet, like vanilla and coconut, but not overpowering. Her phone screen glows as she texts furiously, her long, manicured nails clicking against the screen like tiny sparks of destruction against my already fragile sanity.

She pops her gum. Pops her gum. And laughs at whatever her best friend just sent her. It's a casual, careless laugh, the kind that people like her throw around without thinking, but it makes my chest feel weird. Like I'm on some kind of rollercoaster that I was never supposed to be on. She tosses her phone onto the bed and finally, finally looks at me. And that's when I know for sure—I'm not surviving this.

I make the mistake of meeting her eyes, and suddenly, I'm a deer caught in the headlights of the most beautiful, untouchable girl in existence. Her eyeliner is perfect, dark and winged in a way that makes her already intimidating stare even more intense. Her lips are shiny from lip gloss, and I realize I've been staring at them for way too long. I should look away. I should definitely look away. But I can't. I'm stuck, completely, hopelessly frozen.

It's only when she snaps her fingers in front of my face that I remember I'm supposed to be doing something other than sitting here like an idiot. I jolt, blinking rapidly as if I can physically shake off whatever spell she's put me under. My face burns, and I immediately drop my eyes to the notebook in front of me, pretending like I've been deep in thought about polynomials this whole time.

But it's too late. She knows. She definitely knows. And I am never, ever going to recover from this.