Notes, notes, notes, notes.

I swear, the teacher talks so fast that I don't believe he's human. It's almost as if he doesn't know what a comma is.

I look back and forth from my notebook and on the blackboard, rapidly writing down the things he's writing as he talks. I could care less about what he says, it's just that it's so distracting and I can't quite concentrate.

He finally stopped writing so I could catch up. But right at the moment the chalk was put down, the door opened, and I saw a handsome looking teenager, walking up slowly to the teacher. My pencil had fallen and I dropped it on my notebook. My mouth was wide open.

He was absolutely stunning.

A strand of his hair was red, his lips, as pink as an old rose, his eyes, I couldn't.