It's only been a semester back from summer break and I'm not liking it so far. But...math class, I can handle. "Who is that!? I've seen him around, but who is he? Is he new here?" I hear a girl ask quietly, like...how do you not notice him? I asked myself as I overhear the girl, as I look over beside me. I promise, I used to hate math. The numbers blurred together and the teacher talked way too fast, but that was before this semester, before he sat two desks over.

His name is Blakely, and he's the kind of guy who somehow makes a wrinkled hoodie look perfect. He's tall, messy dark hair, and when he laughs he leans back in his chair like he doesn't care about anything. The first time he asked me for a pencil, I literally forgot how to speak. I stared at him for a second and handed it over like a complete idiot while my heart was doing Olympic-level volleyball.

Now math class is my favorite part of the day,  not because I suddenly understand algebra (I definitely don't) but because sometimes he leans over and whispers, "Do you get this?" while pointing at the problem. Our heads get really close while we try to figure it out together and sometimes I can smell his cologne. Last week he smiled at me after class and said, "You're actually really good at explaining this stuff. We should hang out sometime."

I'm not. Not even a little. Did he just ask me to hang out? I can't tell. I think I might be hearing things. Did he mean like... tutor? The way his eyes looked at me he was actually serious and expecting an answer. The only thing I could manage to say, as I looked in his eyes, was "Yeah!" a little to excitedly. If this means he keeps sitting next to me in math class, I might just start loving math forever. 💕📓✏️