Zack’s perspective

“Hey there,” I say.

“Hello, Zacky,” Michael replies.

I giggle involuntarily at Michael’s reply. I put a hand over my mouth in embarrassment and Michael chuckles.

“Your giggle is cute,” Michael says.

“Oh sure! My giggle is cute but not me,” I tease.

“I never said you weren’t cute,” Michael replies.

“You are right about that,” I say.

“I know I’m right!” Michael says.

“Okay! Whatever you say,” I reply.

Michael’s hand is resting on the console. I put my hand over his without thinking. He looks up at me. We stare into each other’s eyes longingly. Isaac knocks on the passenger door’s window and Michael and I get out of my car.

“Please tell me you two weren’t making out,” Isaac says.

“We weren’t,” I grumble.

As much as I wanted to. What? No! I don’t like Michael like that! He’s just a friend! Nothing else. He doesn’t like me like that, right? He was just joking, right? Yeah, he doesn’t like me like that. There’s no way. Besides, why would he have a crush on someone with so much emotional baggage? Michael was joking when he said he had a crush on me. I know it!

“Zackary? Hello?” Isaac says, waving his hand in front of my face my face. I smack his hand away and grunt. I walk away quickly and walk inside the school and to my locker. I lean my forehead against the cold metal. I let out a sigh of frustration and open my locker.

Why do I feel like that around Michael? I’m just going to hurt him or he’s going to hurt me. One or the other. Maybe if I avoid him this stupid crush will go away. Yeah, that’ll work. Give it a week or two. It’ll go away, right?

I don’t sit by Michael during lunch. I don’t give him a ride home. I don’t invite him over. I ignore his texts. I convince myself I don’t have a crush on him. If I could just stop thinking about him all the damn time, it would maybe help this stupid crush go away.

I avoid him for a few weeks. Today is the first day of him tutoring me. I wait at the library. I realize I’ve been looking forward to this day. I shake my head. He’s probably not even going to show up. I wouldn’t be shocked if he didn’t show up after the way I’ve been ignoring and avoiding him for the past few weeks. I feel myself tear up and head to the bathroom, leaving my stuff at the table I was sitting at. I lock myself in a stall and cry. I try to be silent, but I fail. I wipe my tears onto my sleeves. I keep crying. I don’t know for how long. Eventually, someone enters the bathroom and I force myself to be silent.

The person turns on the water at a sink and splashes it against their face. They start to cry quietly. I have an urge to comfort them. I don’t because my eyes are probably red and puffy. I dig in my pockets, trying to find my phone until I realize I left it at the table. I put my hood up and stare at the ground. l unlock the stall door and start to leave until I realize that Michael is the one who was standing at the sink.

I look up and take down my hood. My face lights up and I hug Michael. “I’m so sorry. I’m so selfish and I was an ass to you and I’m so so sorry. I didn’t realize what I was putting you through. I’m sorry. I understand if you are never going to forgive me, but I’m so very sincerely sorry, Michael,” I say, tearing up.