I wouldn’t call it drawing; rather, I was gently scraping a sheet of paper until it grayed. For some time I pretended to observe closely the snout of my creation, a double-eared thing with a shaggy mane and two caved-in nostrils. It stared back at me with equal impassivity.

In the corner the boy with the dark brown hair and beautiful green eyes laughed over something much more tempting than my attempt at art. So badly I wanted to stand, push my chair in and join the love of my life. So unfortunately I sat in my unmoving seat.

A few minutes passed and the laughter dwindled down. My pencil creature acquired a tooth. The boy was busying himself with the ring on his middle finger - his fashion staple - and I tried not to stare for too many seconds at a time. In the distance between us I could only make out a bit of his face, but the freckles were not as vivid, the side-smile not as alluring. I asked the substitute teacher if I could move up please, I couldn’t see the board. Her eyes barely left the horizon of her book. I picked up my sketchbook, swung my bag over my shoulder, and hobbled to an empty desk close enough to him that I could get a clearer view of the beauty that was the color of his eyes. It was glistening, and glimmering, and I had at least two paragraphs’ worth of writing on it in the back of my Creative Writing notebook. It was the color of love.

I shaded in my creature’s mane. As the period slowly lapped into the next, I had managed to give it some dimension, though I was in a completely different one. The substitute announced our remaining thirty seconds before departure. The boy made his way towards my desk. I noticed the second ring, a black one with a green shine, sunbathing in the lamplight on the desk beside mine. A perfect, lightly-freckled arm hovered over mine. His fingers extended until he could swoop up the ring in a single, artistic motion. Our eyes met, and for a brief moment my heart rose to my head and the world crashed into chaotic bliss.

He parted his lips. “Nice horse.”