The poem was lovely. Shakespearean in its composition, perfect iambic pentameter, and extremely flattering. She looked over the words, comparing her to a fragile Desdemona, and a fair Juliet. She wondered if this was plagiarized from some other poor fools love poem. The boy cowering behind his locker did not seem capable of uttering a word let alone composing a love poem.
There were many other couples that would have been more appropriate for their situation, the thought was sweet though. She longed for another’s love, not the boy watching her like a hawk from behind his locker trying to gauge her reaction. She stuffed the poem into her locker, not wanting to hurt him too badly by throwing it out while he was watching, and ran to her next class.
After the period ended she found another note on her locker, another poem. She sighed internally with every cliche she read. She was almost positive every line was from one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. She stuffed this one in her locker too and ran to her bus.
He sat next to her and it took every bit of self control she had to not groan out loud. She didn’t say a word to him pretending he didn’t exist. Her stop came up and she stood up and scooted past him. She practically sprinted home trying to avoid him, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.