Looking back, you know that it all started with the glances. The secret, unseen glances, in the halls, in Math, in Biology. What started once as a casual, "Well how do YOU do?" has now catapulted into nearly a full-force obsession. You know her face better than your own now, you believe. The intent way she bites her lip when thinking, the amused grin constantly placed upon her golden face. And yet, this is all done in secret. If texting in class has taught you anything, it would be how to glance discreetly. And glance discreetly you do.

It is one day, nearly three months after this obsession started, that you stare too long. Her eyes, big and wide with innocence, look up from her paper into your own. You gulp. That look shows that she knows, and you feel the shame, the embarrassment. This is new, you ponder, as you look away. You have never looked away before.

You are still contemplating this thought when her body slips lithely next to you. She is kneeling on the floor, paper in hand, looking down.

"Sorry," She begins, "I really don't get problem 23." She slides the paper across the desk and you, you are taking it. You glance down at the paper and what's normally so organized and logical is now a jumbled mess. You pause for a moment, and reread the problem. It's simple, really, and you splutter out some explanation or another, still stunned that she is sitting there, right there.

"You get it?" You offer, glancing back at her face. Her eyes are finally looking into yours, and holy shit, she is giving you this glance. She knows how you feel, and you think her eyes may be mirroring your own. It's a mix of lust and love and holy shit: your feelings are returned.

"Yeah, I think I do." She is grinning, grinning at you, and you are still shocked. Then she is standing, murmuring a thanks, and you look away before anyone notices. Holy.

You manage to avoid her, but when you see her she is somehow always smirking, taunting. You want to wipe that smile off her face, nip those lips till they are swollen, and have her be yours. This, on so many levels, is bad. But you've gone against the mainstream for so long, why stop now?

It has been a week since the little Math incident. You are wandering the halls; it's your free period. You round a corner and you nearly gasp aloud when you see her, headphones in, quietly humming to the song. The sight of her, bathed in the light of the hallway, is overcrowding your sense and within seconds you are in front of her. Her eyes open, wide, and shocked, and you can smell her, goddamn, your so close.

"Hey." She goes.

"Hey." You go.

And suddenly, your lips are meeting, crashing, exploding, colliding, exploring right there in the hallway. Her stuff drops, unnoticed. The song goes on, unheard. All you know is that those are her lips are touching yours, pulling and tugging and damn you never thought of her like this, but boy is it sexy. She is pressed up between you and the wall, and you know she doesn't mind by the way her tongue is moving. Hands are roaming, hers sliding up your shirt, and oh my, you gasp into her mouth.

Pulling away, your hands on her hip, you look down into her eyes. Those beautiful, gorgeous eyes you've never really seen before. This time, though, they are downcast.

"We can't do this." Her voice is quiet, innocent. She sounds exhausted.

"Why?" You are whining, sweet Merlin, whining. You've never whined before.

"You know why." Her voice is challenging and for a second your heart thudding is the only sound.

"Alli." Is the answer, the reminder of reality. Fuck.

"Alli." She agrees, pulling her hands out of your shirt, and bending down to replace her ear bud. Somehow, this small gesture stings the most. She is sliding out from under you, picking up her stuff from the floor, and walking away.

"Bye." She calls, and it's only when she's gone do you realize what just happened. It it hadn't been for the warmth that was blossoming throughout your body, you would have said it never happened at all.

The next time you see her, she is with a boy. Their hands are intertwined, and they are laughing. He would treat her right, that you know. Your own hand is interlocked with Alli's, and as you walk past she looks up. She nods, once, quickly, before looking away. But in her eyes, you could see the sorrow. The remorse. The apology.

You know your eyes mirror her own.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well this is just a tad sexual. And graphic. And yeahhhh. Sorry. Lot's of emotion just kinda poured out into this one. Hmmm. Oh wells.

MY FIRST TIME TRYING SOMETHING ANYTHING THIS AGGRESSIVE/POSSESSIVE/SEXUAL. Comments?