She is still keeping eye contact with me, a ‘friend’ of hers nudges her, and she pays quick attention to them before focusing back onto me.

We have been doing this for four months, just looking at each other, seeing who will freak out first. It never happens; neither of us win nor lose. She use to though, she use to catch me looking and she would look away just as fast, it brought a smile to my face but now, now she knows how to play this game and is determined not to lose, it just builds up a desire in me, a desire I need to take care of, and this is where I’m above an average teenage girl.

I always wander… if she does touch herself, does she think about me? Does she think about these one hour staring competitions that happen every lunch? Does she want me as much as I want her?

These questions however will never be answered, not unless she is brave enough to finally be who she really is. I’m not talking about her being gay, I’m not sure if she is, though she passes all the tests. I’m talking about her being her self. Being the nice little, sweet and innocent girl she is. The girl that doesn’t have to wear fake smiles to keep everyone impressed. The girl that doesn’t have to be a cheerleader and have a basketball boyfriend just to impress mummy.

I want her to be who she really is just as much as she does. But she won’t let herself, and I’m disappointed in her.

It’s coming to the end of lunch, the end of our daily routine. We see each other in the halls, or in a class we may share, but it’s never like this, those sideways glances have noting on the full out stares we share every lunch time.

The bell rings… this is the time when she walks off, but she hasn’t today. She’s stayed there, the bell not even registering as her eyes stay locked onto mine. She doesn’t want to move, she doesn’t want this moment to end.

She has finally changed the routine.

Someone unimportant from the squad tugs her arm and reality sinks in, she has to get to class, this has stopped, she won’t see me for the rest of the day. I always go home after lunch, I only stay for lunch because of our silent agreement to always be where we normally are.

But now it’s time to end, and disappointment crosses my face, as it does hers.

It’s the end of the day for us, but I will go home and fantasize about this last hour just like I do every Monday to Friday. Just like I do every Saturday when I see her in the club, but we will go to that story another time. For now I need to go home and imagine Spencer Carlin in my bed.

My name’s Ashley Davies. Welcome to my pathetic life.