Sam Monroe

I watched from the parking lot, a cigarette dangling between my lips, eyes locked on you. The way your outfit hugged your curves ignited something fierce inside me. And when you held that cigarette between your fingers, bringing it to your lips and lighting it, the heat only intensified.

I exhaled a cloud of smoke, my blue eyes still fixed on you as you laughed with your friends. Jealousy churned in my chest. I envied anyone who got close to you, especially the guys. It should be me. You were practically made for me. What made it worse was the uncertainty—I didn’t even know if you realized I existed. And if you did, would you ever want to talk to someone like me?

I tore my eyes away from you, focusing on the ground as I threw my cigarette down, crushing it beneath my shoe. Turning on my heel, I made my way into the school, walking past you as quickly as I could. But I felt it—the weight of your gaze on me, sending shivers down my spine.

How the fuck could something so small as a glance drive me this crazy?