Flash Fiction: Hate (His Perspective)

With legs that went on for days, she walked into class and directly to her seat without even glancing my way. Behind her adorable, flushed face sat Erika with her frizzy red hair and annoyingly vibrant socks. "I'm ready to present," the goody-goody said in her nasally voice. We sat there the entire hour listening to a presentation on the growth of skin, but I couldn't focus on anything but her sweet blonde curls and sea-green eyes. Every once in a while I would glance back at her, and she would look up at me, as if asking her to save her from this miserable speech. We always seemed to be on the same page. But before I could be her Prince Charming, the bell rang. I quickly gathered my books so I could walk out of class with her. I got as close as possible to her, inhaling the delicious scent of her strawberry shampoo and whispered, "How'd ya like that speech?" She laughed and elbowed me. I made her laugh! And she touched me!! It was a victory in my book. I went to my locker still electrified by her touch and collected my books. Just like clockwork, she walked past my locker as she does every day. Quick! Think of something witty to say, stupid! "Nice sweater. Get it from your grandma?" Smirking I walked away. ...what did I say that for?! God, I am so dumb!