The first time I saw him, I could tell that speaking wasn’t really his thing, but I wanted to talk to him. He sat alone eating his lunch and he was the cutest thing ever. He still is, my Jihoon. He didn’t know that I’ve been watching him from a far for a while now. Because after the first sight, I just found myself simply getting my gaze on him. But maybe he just didn’t care. He didn’t care about many things, I guess. But he did care sometimes. I saw how he pushed that bully away. He was freaking twice Jihoon’s size but ended up backing away.

The second time I tried to talk to him, he was too busy reading to acknowledge me who was sitting there beside him all the time. I wasn’t usually that quiet, but sitting beside him, watching him from that close did something to me. So, I just ended up watching him silently.

People said, third time is a charm. But in my case, it wasn’t. The third time I tried to talk to Jihoon, he totally ignored me. After thinking about that cute boy from the cafeteria for months, finally I built up my courage to really talk to him. I didn’t know why, but he didn’t seem to talk that much and I just found him so intriguing that he seemed so different from me and my friends. I saw him coming out of his class, which was beside mine and I waited in front of mine. I remembered being all nervous and fidgety. When he walked pass me, I called out for him.

“Jihoon!”

Maybe I sounded weird but I could worry about that later because I was too busy watching him at the moment. Oh, I forgot to mention that I had been planting a gummy smile the whole time. He walked pass me. Just that. He didn’t even look at me. Third time is a charm, my . But he couldn’t be ignoring me, he must have been in a rush and didn’t hear me. After that, I’d been having my eyes on him. I watched him, from afar. Maybe he started to recognize me because he threw me some looks sometimes, but maybe it was just me imagining things. I had to look away each time. I shouldn’t have. But yeahhhh, I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t want him to know that I had been watching him and to think that I was a creeper.

The fourth time, aarrgghhh. It was the worst. I didn’t really want to remember that. I saw him on my way home. Then I was like “Oh My God! OMG! He lives in the same neighborhood with me.” When I accidentally called out for him, this time he looked back at me, well, almost. That was when I had my first chickened-out moment in my life. I didn’t even feel that way when I had to sing in front of the seniors or when I had to face my mom’s wrath. It was weird. I hid myself behind the wall before he could see me. I c