It’s been two months since the first time I laid eyes on him, since I first started admiring him. It was a rainy Wednesday afternoon, I was drinking a cup of hot chocolate whilst studying for my Psychology exam when I heard the doorbell announce his entrance. Usually, I wouldn’t even look up from my book but this time it was different. I was drawn to him. I watched him as he wiped his boots on the door mat, ruffled his long black hair, and took off his wet coat. He walked confidently towards the couch next to the window, with two books on one hand, and a brown leather bag on the other. He was breathtakingly beautiful. I’m not exaggerating when I say I had never seen anyone as handsome as he was. His features were delicate and fragile. His porcelain-like skin appeared as if it could shatter any second if you held him too strongly. But his eyes were not as delicate as his other features, they were dark, intense, almost cat-like, partnered with perfectly shaped bold eyebrows. His dark hair fell prettily on his porcelain-like skin. He almost seemed vampire-like. If it wasn’t for the fact that I knew vampires weren’t real I would have thought I encountered one.

Throughout these past two months, I have admired him in secret, never building up enough courage to go up to him or talk to him. Whenever I felt a twinge of courage there was always something or someone that interfered. About three weeks ago, I was going to go up to him when I saw him chatting up with this pretty girl. Maybe it was the coffee but I felt my insides twist and churn at the sight of them together. My heart felt heavy as I saw the way his lips curled into a smile, and the way the girl gently placed her hands on top of his. For two months now, I had day-dreamed of doing that, of having his hands intertwined with mine. The sadness took over me and I didn’t go to the coffee shop the whole following week. I felt stupid, I still do, for being heartbroken over a boy that doesn’t even know I exist. Ever since that day, I promised myself that I would stop fawning over him but my crush on him has only gotten stronger.

The only person that knows how I feel over this nameless boy is my best friend, Hana. Luckily, she attends school on the opposite side of the coast and isn’t here to force me to talk to him. I know her all too well, if she was here she would have dragged me to his table and forced me to introduce myself. Unlike me, Hana isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. If she gets rejected, which is rare, she just moves on to the next guy. Ive always admired her courage and I’ve always hoped that if I hung around her enough some of that courage would rub off on me. Sadly after six years of being best friends with her that courage never reached me. Not even a tiny bit.