You always want to tell them, but of course, never get the courage to do so. You may stare at them from the other side of the cafeteria, or you may be sitting right next to them. The only problem is you don’t say anything. You let each day slip by, letting all of your emotions build up. It hardly seems fair.
There is always something inside you, something that feels like a lump, that bursts each time they come around, when they look at you, or better yet, when they talk to you. You get this giddy, lighthearted feeling and you want to sing. But do you say anything? You may stutter a bit and look away nervously, but do words—real words—come out?
No.
You may talk when no ones around, without the faces of friends or other classmates. You might be best friends, but to him, you are just some girl to talk to. He is the one that gets to walk away without even looking back. You, you get to sit and watch him walk away. You hope and pray that he turns. Turn. Turn. Oh, God let him turn! He turns, but not to you. He sees a friend and waves.
Your heart sinks, and you sigh. Maybe tomorrow, you say to yourself.
All afternoon you look forward to seeing him again in last period. It’s Biology and guess whose your lab partner. Him. He may smile, a halfhearted smile, when you enter the classroom. Then you realize that it was at the blonde cheerleader behind you. You feel embarrassed, silly. Your cheeks burn with fury as you take your seat next to the traitor. You hate him, you want to hit him and cuss him out. You shrug it off. You know he wouldn’t understand why you’d be so mad, not unless you tell him.
You shake your head until the thought disappears.
The class is called to order and he sits, so close to you and yet, the distance is the largest distance you’ve ever felt. You feel in your bones the urge to move just a half an inch, just so that he may brush up against you. Casually, you pull it off but no such luck. He moves his chair slightly to the opposite side to be closer to the cheerleader.
Jealousy burns your eyes and you want to cry. The tears are there. You blink them away and hide behind your hair. Not here, not when he’s so close!
All throughout class you think of different ways to kill the cheerleader. She has no real purpose to the world besides maybe a Sports Illustrated model, but the world could use one less of those types.
You start to think, maybe I’m just not good enough for him. Am I to fat? Is my hair not straight enough? If I were more bubbly and energetic, would he treat me the same way? God, you want to be her. She gets all of the boys. You, you get no one. Not even the nerds want to look at you. They look up to him like he is some sort of god.
To you, he is.
The bell rings and you jump back to reality. He is standing by her desk while she gathers her things. You watch as she stands and he touches the small of her back and follows her out of the classroom. He sees you watching and smiles and adds a small nod.
You scream inside. He saw!
Walking to your locker, you are in a complete trans. You didn’t may any mind to the Freshmen you trampled over, or the group of people talking that you walked right through. They yell at you, but you just walk on by with the dumbstruck expression. Probably smiling a lame smile that makes you look silly.
The ride home is manageable. You still think of him and his smile and butterflies form in your stomach. Your mouth dries and you catch your breath. What did it mean?
While laying your confused head down to sleep, you’re still thinking about that smile. By now, you have picked apart that smile until it is bone dry. It wasn’t exactly a sweet smile. More like an I’m-going-to-tap-that, smile.
You don’t feel as happy now. The tears you held back so well start to brim over and you fall into a numb dreamless existence.
You did an excelent job of explaining the emotions and I just wanted to scream: YES! This is exactly what it feels like to crush on a guy and then watch him go fall for someone else. Again, excelent job!!!!
Ha, I'm so helpful 
and all, but I do think we should be allowed at least one in a piece of work. Come on! Where is justice??? 
Maybe right now.
...I just love british accents....okay, getting off topic *hem*)
