Love Notes

I stared at the words I wrote. Cheesy. Poetic. I tore the note and wrote another. I sat glued to my desk. When I looked up it was sunrise. I went to bed. I tried to sleep, but all I saw was her—every flourish of her hand and soft curl of her hair. If only I knew how her skin, hair, breath felt against my face, chest, hands.

Our fingertips brushed that afternoon. We were working on homework. When she reached for my pencil, our fingers touched. A jolt of electricity surged through me. The warmth remained for hours.