TO say the least, I didn't have a photographic memory.

Honestly, it was more goldfish-like than anything and I might stumble if asked what I ate the day before, but there were some things that left a permanent imprint on my mind. One of those things was when I knew in my weak little heart that I had a full-blown, terrible crush on Tyler McMaster.

It was amazing as it was soul-crushing and it wasn't something that ever really left me.

It wasn't even fair, because the crush had blossomed from the most embarrassing moment ever, and I'd basically taken any chance I had with him and shot it behind the shed before any hope of romance. Because my heart couldn't skip a beat for a totally realistic possibility- that would just be silly.

And as I stared at his beautiful face, a wistful sigh building in my throat, I remembered that day in full technicolour.

Eighth grade me, still more or less the same but a lot more acne and a lot more Fall Out Boy. That philosophical liminal space of what Britney Spears called not a girl, not yet a woman.

"Hey, less day dreaming, more physics-ing!" Reese interrupted my reverie, snapping his fingers in my face.

I shot him a deadpan look. "I was thinking. You know, that thing people with actual working brains tend to do."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, clearly unimpressed with my excuse. "Some people are actually going to be tested on this," he reminded me.

Through my stupid glasses I cast him a glare.

Clearing my throat, I had to consciously remind myself that I really shouldn't mimic Reese, despite it almost being instinct to his stupidity. Mostly because we'd caught Tyler's attention, and suddenly I reverted back to the girl that would never mimic anyone ever  because that would be childish.

Instead I found myself slapping on a convincing, serene smile. "Of course, that's why I'm here," I said with all the calming notes of a Tibetan monk, reminding myself that punching Reese in the face was not the right response. No matter how good it would probably- definitely- feel.

Just once.

"So if the force is applied at an angle of the direction of motion- would do we do now?" Reese asked, a knowing smirk carved onto his face.

I narrowed my eyes at him, pointedly flipping through his notebook with more force than necessary as I meagrely tried to search for the answer. Most of what our study session consisted of was Wyatt or Tyler asking questions and me scrambling to find something to say from this big book of answers, because I had literally retained nothing from the year before. Thus was the joys of the public school system.

It still weirded me out that Wyatt was joining us with no ulterior motive, but answering all of his questions really did help my intelligent façade, so it was whatever. And despite the weirdness of the glasses, I was really starting to feel smart. If only this stupid book was with me last year, I might have actually scraped up more than a barely pass.

With searching eyes I finally found the answer, and looked up to a smirking Reese.

"You use the horizontal component of the applied force," I mumbled through gritted teeth, trying to keep the smile on my face.

"Oh, that's awesome," Tyler piped in genuinely, quickly scribbling in his notebook. "This is really helping, actually. I'm really surprised, Stella, your notes are awesome!"

Instantly all of the irritation trickled from my body as I caught his smile. "Yeah, well, I'm glad they could help!" I returned the grin, feeling a heat rise on my cheeks. 

Despite the fact that most of my nerves had eventually calmed down after the first half hour, there were still remnants of anxiety weaving through my bloodstream whenever I caught Tyler's eye and I still couldn't find a way to make the words come out exactly as I wanted them to. With Reese and Wyatt I barely gave my next sentence another thought but as soon as Tyler's light eyes focused on me, I was gone.

Memories of eighth grade Tyler came back to me, with the same features but shorter hair and those prepubescent chubby cheeks. The one who had saved eighth grade Stella from what could have been future therapy fodder but instead kindled an infatuation that would not die.

I hadn't even noticed I was staring until Tyler quirked his brow. "Are you okay?"

Startled, I blinked a couple of times, bringing myself back to reality and the crushing shame that I'd been staring at his face way longer than was probably socially acceptable. "Uh, thinking," I stammered, flashing him a convincing smile.

"About what?"

I blinked. "... Dogs."

I could practically feel Reese face palming next to me.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen a real Dalmatian in my life, isn't that weird? Not one," Wyatt chimed in with a surprisingly thoughtful tone, scratching at his jaw as if truly confounded.

Beside me I could hear Reese force out a slow and steady breath, and glanced over to see his eyes shut. A part of me knew he was questioning why he surrounded himself with what he probably thought as stupidity, but I was wearing rose coloured glasses and therefore could not be judged, and whatever, Wyatt made a pretty good point. I had never seen a Dalmatian.

"Cruella won," I gasped.

Wyatt returned this with equally shocked eyes. We both shared a look of mutual travesty. Our childhood selves were shattered.

I heard Tyler chuckle next to me and it was a low sound that resonated through the depths of my bones. I didn't even know chuckles were capable of doing that.

"All right, all right," Reese cut through our conversation, shooting us both unimpressed looks. "You guys get through problem four and Stella, come help me with the lemonade in the kitchen."

As Reese pushed himself up to his feet, I tried to catch his gaze, but failed. My brows were furrowed and I focused a look of confusion on his back but he paid me no mind as he drifted into the kitchen with empty pitcher in hand.

Still, I found myself obediently following along, driven by my insatiable curiosity and thirst for more lemonade.

Reese hadn't been totally lying when he said he made some pretty good lemonade.

"I'll mark down wherever we have problems," Tyler said and shot me one last smile as I disappeared into the kitchen.

On the cusp of puberty, eighth grade Stella was as naive as she was fond of wearing mint green pants and referring to herself in the third person. And on that crisp May afternoon, she strutted down the halls of McKinley Middle School without a worry in the world, other than if her mom had packed her a grilled cheese or a ham sandwich.

Which was why she was surprised when Tyler McMaster tapped her on the shoulder, a cute boy in her class she'd noticed every once in a while but never talked to.

He'd asked if he could talk to her for a minute, and she agreed, just an innocent soul. He pulled her into the corner, and she had never been that close to a boy. Everyone else had gone to recess too, so her heart was pounding with middle school fever.

But the romance of the moment died as he uncomfortably let her know that she had gotten a stain on her pants of the red and womanly kind, and she was reduced to a sludge pile of shame and humiliation. However, Tyler offered her his sweater to tie around her waist as she called her mom, and a new found angelic light appeared behind his head.

In that moment I'd realized what a true, kind, and gentle soul Tyler had, and how most boys would have taken the opportunity to make jokes (Reese) and make fun of me (definitely Reese), instead Tyler actually helped.

Now, years later, I was finally going to make him fall in love with me. Somehow. Probably.

I stepped into the kitchen, finding Reese's back towards me and both his palms pressed against the counter. When he heard me, he turned, his mouth set in a straight line and arms crossed over his chest.

"All right, we're going to have to step it up."

His face read business. I instinctively took a step back.

"What are you talking about, Powers?" I asked slowly, eyes narrowed in skepticism.

He ignored my question and grabbed my wrist, pulling me further into the dining room. Still, I said nothing, and let him take me, fixing him with a weird look when he'd let go and eyed me with a thoughtful chin scratch.

"I was wrong, we need to go bigger. Glasses aren't enough, we need something to distract him from your personality," he mused, trying to get a look at me from all angles.

I huffed, offended, and crossed my arms over my chest. "I have a great personality."

"You were thinking of dogs?" He cocked a brow.

"Dogs are a very reasonable topic of thought. Whatever, I panicked. You're the one that's supposed to make the magic happen, and usually I have a sparkling personality," I muttered, a frown settling on my face as I tried to ignore his stinging words.

I had a great personality. Whatever. It wasn't like he was the ultimate judge of character, he was Satan.

"Sure, sure," he hummed noncommittally, picking up a strand of hair from my pony tail and examining it in thought. "Okay, so, I think I have a plan. We need to go sexier, and this isn't cutting it."

My eyebrows furrowed. "You said go smart, I went smart," I defended myself, feeling oddly scrutinized in the moment. I'd worn his stupid glasses, pulled my hair up into a ponytail and worn a very smart button up shirt. It wasn't super formal but it was a very nice shirt, and it was light blue, and I liked it.

I thought I looked okay, at least.

"Yeah, but we don't want to go like, smart-smart. We went to go sexy-smart. Like you don't want him to study with you in the library, you want him to screw you in the library." He grinned at me, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Fine, whatever, what's your plan?" I looked to him with doubt.

"Hair, pull it out," he ordered, still scratching his chin thoughtfully, as if there was any actual method to his obvious madness.

Still, I pulled out the hairband and allowed for my chestnut hair to cascade down my shoulders, still holding a slight wave to it. Reese nodded, apparently approving, before murdering the distance between us. He was suddenly very up close and personal, and I swallowed. His fingers went directly for the buttons of my shirt as he began fumbling and unclasping them, a determined spark in his eye.

"Hey!" I cringed away from him, pushing his hands away. "I don't have a shirt on underneath!"

Reese grinned unabashadly up at me. "Exactly."

"So what your plan is basically for me to throw my very little boobs in his face?"

Reese nodded, as if the answer were completely obvious. "Yes, that's actually the entire plan. And it'll work, trust me."

I shot him a deadpan look, but didn't make any move to fix any damage he'd already done. It wasn't ridiculously scandalous, but I could see just a peak of my midnight black bra from underneath my shirt, and figured that maybe he did have some good sense since clearly I hadn't made any progress on my own.

"Okay, fine, so what do I do, just throw myself at him, then what? Give me something to work with," I demanded, surrendering all skepticism in the name of romance, and looking to Reese for guidance.

He picked up on my defeat with enthusiasm and beamed at me. "Just give him a low tone and push out the ladies."

I shot him a disgruntled look at his choice of words. "Please never refer to my boobs that way again."

Reese dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand and turned me by the shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "All right soldier, all you gotta do is go out there and be sexy, talk about the terminal velocity of his dick or something, just work it."

"Err, okay," I mumbled, feeling a sense of unsureness brew due to his strange pep talk, and took a deep, calming breath.

All right, sexy. I could do this. I could be sexy. Probably.

Stepping in, both Tyler and Wyatt looked up at me, and I immediately froze.

Sexy.

Swallowing, I leaned against the doorframe, trying to make my movements seem more fluid and natural than the sharp, quick jerks they were. Reese's words were still ringing in my head. I tried to push my chest out.

"Hello boys," I purred, or well, tried to.

Wyatt gave me a weird look. "Are you okay?"

Feeling the heat of mortification creep up my neck, I straightened and brought my fist to my lips, clearing my throat. "Yeah, I uh, I had something in my throat," I lied, and could pointedly hear Reese chuckle behind me.

With whatever feeble confidence I had floating into the atmosphere, I fixed my glasses and thought it best just to sit down and hope for something good. Maybe the outfit would do all the talking, like Reese said, and no one would get hurt.

Trudging to my spot, my toe made contact with Wyatt's textbook he'd left on the ground and in one quick motion I was falling to my death. In an attempt to save myself, I shot my hands out right in front of me, which happened to be right in Tyler's lap.

At the hand to crotch contact, Tyler winced, curling over and making a choked up sound of pain. With my hands throbbing and my face burning the shade of that fateful period blood red, I quickly scrambled to get balance, but the damage was already done.

Slowly he pushed himself away, lifting to his feet, still a little crouched over. "I'm just gonna take a moment outside," he croaked, voice strained and matching his agonized facial expression.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, but he was already gone.

With horror written all over my face, I turned to Wyatt and Reese who were watching with wide eyes.

"I touched his dick."

And then they burst out laughing.

***

Arghhh!! I'm the wooorst, this was supposed to be uploaded last Wednesday and yet- here we are. Sort of long to make up for it? (Well, for me anyway). Next update will be Friday to make up for the wait! Either way, here are some things happening, hope you enjoy! Accidental sackings are my fuel, hahaha.

Thanks for reading, you guys are the best!