•A Beautiful Boy•

A beautiful boy was sitting just inches away. And I yearned to slide my hand across the small space and slowy watch our fingers intertwine. To caress his angelic face as I lightly brushed my lips against his. But I knew in the back of my head that that was never to happen. Shaking away the feeling I clasped my hands together so tightly that my knuckles turned a startling shade of white. I bit my lip and let my eyes wander the room trying to look as preoccupied as I could. Yet I continued to stare at the beautiful boy out of the corner of my eye, hoping he had yet to notice. He hadn't seem to see me or even glance my way with those perplexed eyes that shone a forest green in the fluorescent light. And I tried to swallow the urge to run my fingers through his black hair that curled just at the nape of his neck. "Whats wrong with me?" I thought to myself. This boy is nothing but a stranger even if he is beutiful I should not have been thinking such informal things. Forbidding myself from such feelings I stole one last glance and without meaning to a low moan escaped my dry throat. Now he was looking straight at me with a questioning look written plainly across his face. I hastily looked to the floor feeling a burning in my cheeks and a hatred for my lack of composure.