Ben
He was an older man, and I was confused when he started talking to me. During recess, we would climb on the outside of playground structures, clutching those green metal bars lest we fall three feet to death and broken bones. Even then, danger was seductive.
"I'm four and a quarter," I told him once.
"I'm four and three quarters," he said proudly. "That's two quarters more."
My jaw dropped.
I don't know why I liked him. It must have been the wisdom half a year brings.

Daniel
We never talked much because, in first grade, girls play with girls and boys play with boys, and that's that. Once, a kickball gave him a black eye. I gave him ice. Bruises shouldn't be pretty, but I liked the way the bruise blossomed from his hazel eye.
I don't know why I liked him. It must have been his pretty hazel eyes.

Alexander
"You run slow."
"At least I don't run as slow as you."
"But I'm braver. I ate a bug."
"You ate a bug. That just means you're dumb."
"You can say stupid."
"Nu-uh. I'm not supposed to, but you just called yourself...S-T-U-P-I-D."
"That counts as saying it. It's okay. I like you too."
I don't know why I liked him. It must have been because he liked me too.

Philip
We crouched in the bushes, a branch digging into my shoulder, but I was too excited to care.
"Now will you tell me?" I folded my arms expectantly. "What does your last name mean?"
"Promise you won't tell anyone," he said, his voice urgent.
"Of course," I assured him.
"If anyone finds out," he began.
"Oh, come on," I said and rolled my eyes. "It can't be that bad." I started to stand up, as if to leave.
"Okay, okay," he acquiesced . "'Schneweiss' means 'snow white' in German," he said. The words rushed out in a hurry, the secret eager to escape.
I tried not to giggle because I saw the gravity of the situation. If the rest of the boys found out what his last name meant, he'd be the laughing stock of the class. When you're an eighth grade boy, your last name should not be a princess, and especially not Snow White because everyone knows she's the worst Disney princess. Still, I liked being his confidante.
"That's not so bad," I said.
"But if you tell anyone, I'll kill you," he threatened.
I don't know why I liked him. It must've been his inner princess.

Max
I think the magic of theater carries over to the actors off the stage, for a while at least. We'd practice songs together, his voice barely starting to deepen so we sang in the same octave. It wasn't conventional, but we made it work. He'd hold my hand, but didn't kiss me once. Mormons. Can't date officially 'til sixteen, and I guess a kiss would make it official. He was skinny, but it worked for him. Plus he had the enchanting combination of dark hair, blue eyes. His voice, though, was phenomenal. Warm, rich, and powerful, I think that's what I really fell for.
I don't know why I liked him. It must have been the octave we shared.

Sam
Name: Sam, Hometown: Chicago, Room: 504. He was your typical beach boy: friendly, tan, sun-bleached hair, and I met him on the beach, too. We both stayed in a classy hotel in Cancun, escaping to the white sand beach to avoid the noise-fearing ladies with their broad brimmed hats and designer sunglasses. While the sun beat down on us, we fended off persistent vendors that broke my heart, and he offered to rub in my sunscreen. I politely declined.
We watched a man in a flowery shirt eat a mango, sliced into cubes, but still intact. I imagined sneaking a bite away, the juice bursting from the yellow flesh when my teeth sank into it: it looked like heaven. We went off in hopeless pursuit of a mango lady. And when we had give up, we returned, back to the classy hotel and stuff ladies.
"How long ya staying?" he asked.
"A week, but this is my sixth day," I said.
"Oh. You're leaving in two days?" he asked.
Well, I didn't like him for his brainpower. "Nope. Tomorrow."
"Oh," he grinned sheepishly.
I don't know why I liked him. It must have been heat stroke.

Darren
He's the full package. The ideal guy. And millions of fangirls agree with me. He sings, he acts, he composes, he's surprisingly jacked, and, judging from the interviews, he seems like a pretty nice guy. He has these amazing eyes and, God, I didn't even know eyebrows could be sexy. And he has a really sculpted face, but it's still kind of exotic because he's Eurasian. And he's so funny! Oh my God, the songs he writes are so quirky and artsy, and sometimes I literally laugh out loud while listening to them.
I expected myself to be more sensible by now, crush on people I actually know instead of a celebrity lounging on his golden pedestal. Love a person, not an idol, even if it's more dangerous to fall for someone real.
I don't know why I like him. It must be the wisdom a decade of crushes has brought me.