She smells like rain on dry earth. That kind of smell that rises from the ground and fills your lungs like a holy thing, like incense curling in a temple, like a prayer caught between your teeth.

I swear I can feel it even now, even though she’s only three rows ahead of me, her hair brushing the back of her uniform. Dark, soft waves that beg my fingers to lose themselves in them. I know the texture. I’ve memorized it from the time she let me touch her hair as she was drowsy with sleep . She laughed as I fumbled, but her eyes—God, her eyes—were molten in the sunset, catching light like secrets.

I can’t stop staring. I don’t even try.

Because She is art, and I’m starving.

---

Today she passed me in the corridor and smiled—barely. Just a twitch of her lips, but it was enough to set my entire body on fire. My chest hurts when I think about how she smiles at others the same way. Maybe wider.

Maybe with her whole mouth, all teeth and laughter.

Does she love them too?

Does she call them at night and whisper secrets in the dark?

Does she let them touch her hair and hold her hand like I do?

What if she likes someone more than me ? What if there is someone more special to her than me? Will she forget about me as she talks with that someone special ?

I gulp. I could feel my palms getting sweaty with anxiousness.

A bitter taste fills my mouth.

I clutch my pen tighter. I can almost feel it snapping.

---

I want to be gentle with her.

I want to kiss every part of her soul.

But there’s this thing inside me—ugly, rabid—that wants to tear apart anyone who touches her.

---

The bell rings. She stands. My eyes devour her.

She’s wearing the silver anklet I gave her last week. She doesn’t know I noticed. She doesn’t know I watched her slip it on, alone in the courtyard, her bare foot delicate against the wooden bench.

It’s enough to make me dizzy. Enough to make me write things like:

“If love is a fever, let me burn forever.”

“If she leaves, I will pull heaven down by its throat and make it watch.”

---

When she catches my eye across the room, her gaze lingers. Just for a second. Just long enough for my heart to ache and my lungs to forget how to work.

I think she loves me too.

But then she’s gone. Walking with someone else, laughing too loudly, too carelessly. My stomach twists.

---

At night, I lie in bed and imagine her beside me. I imagine her warm body against mine .I imagine her breath slowing, her pulse fluttering against my lips. I want her to be only mine.

And sometimes—God forgive me—I imagine holding her so tightly she can never leave.

Never, ever leave.