Well, let's just say this period I have a million good reasons to pay close attention to the hunk teaching quadratic equations on the smart board. I'll narrow my thoughts down to my ten recent obsessions. But what other cause do I need except the short-sleeved dark blue shirt clashing with his clear blue irises? I could fly a dozen paper cranes in those beautiful eyes, soaring high in the rim until I'm the only twinkle within his sight. That's the first detail about Brandon that raises my blood pressure sky-high in the eighth period.

"Does anyone want to solve the equation?" Brandon asks, flexing his muscles as he leans on Mrs. Hubbard's desk. "What about you, Ebony?"

"When you simplify the equation, you get two solutions," I say, forcing my eyes back inside my head. "So X equals positive seven and negative seven."

"That's actually right," Brandon smiles at the floor. "Why don't you show us how it's done."

I'm not making this up when I say utter silence stretches across the entire classroom the moment my feet hit the floor. I try to avoid eye contact with my nosey classmates until Roxane clears her throat. My attention flickers in her direction and I swear I nearly ran back to my seat. She props her head on her elbows with a playful smile on her pink, glossy lips.

Finally, a swarm of butterflies flutter around my stomach as I reach Brandon. I focus all my energy on the equation projected on the board and grab the stylus from his right hand. Tell me why he grips the end of the pen with the jaws of life. This moment is so freaking awkward, and man, does he have a powerful grip. After playing tug of war I realize I have no other choice.

I take a deep breath, allowing my gaze to roam until I catch my second weakness. He analyzes me, stealing the longest glance in history because it feels like it can go on for eons. With a blank expression, I take the stylus pen out of his hand. But if anyone listens closely, they'll hear the third reason that sends shivers up my spine.

"Stop acting nervous." He smiles.

I walk past him, visibly rolling my eyes to the back of my skull. Does he honestly expect cool and confident Ebony when he keeps staring at me? It's getting completely out of hand I almost feel as uncomfortable as I constantly make him feel. Can I go back to being the dork who drooled over the insanely hot guy?

A small piece of paper crumples around the stylus pen. The paper rustles in my hand as I unfold it to reveal a handwritten message I'll unveil under the guise of the fourth reason I'm head over heels for Wonder Boy.

                      EVERY WORD YOU SPEAK,
                 EVERY INSANE MOVE YOU TAKE
                       DRAWS ME CLOSER

I carefully put the paper inside the front pocket of the wash denim blue jeans Jesse gladly bought for me. She's been waiting for the day she can dress me up like her personal doll since the first day we met. I shake that thought to the back of my mind as I solve the equation in record time. I turn to the class not to explain the problem but to catch the fastest dash back to my seat in the fifth row. We had to expand since more students finally had their schedules updated to reflect as students in Learning Strategies.

Brandon grabs my arm. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I look at the board and then back at the class. "I think the equation explains itself."

Brandon's infectious laughter fills the room with a fifth wonder. "If it did that, then none of us would be here."

I take a deep breath, watching random faces light up with glee at my embarrassment. But if I quickly explain the equation, then I can escape all this unwanted attention. "First, the square root of x squared is x, and the square root of forty-nine is seven. So it's x plus seven and x minus seven. Then, set each factor equal to zero. Then, since all the terms have to be equal to zero except x, I find the value by subtracting and adding seven to zero in the brackets."

After I explain every crucial step of this boring process, I'm already halfway to my seat when the power-hungry teacher's assistant calls my name. Man, I hope Miss Hubbard walks back to her class soon. It won't be long before he makes a move that forces my brain to overdose, then the thesaurus and I will one again. The effect Brandon has over all my senses is worthy of the sixth spot in the Kiss, Separate, Love Him Still Saga.

Brandon instructs me to wait as he first addresses the rest of the classroom. "We've already solved five equations together. Now, I want everyone to solve the next five on your own and don't forget to show your work."

"What?" I ask, stopping in front of his desk.

"Sit in the front row." Brandon declares with a smug countenance.

"Excuse me," I whisper. "I never learned how to fetch like some common mutt, but I do know how to attack."

"This isn't a debate." Brandon purposely stands up, towering over my small stature. "Either move, or I'll personally carry you to the Principal's Office."

"Damnit," I mutter.

The last time I tested Brandon's patience, I had to borrow a hall pass from Chloe. I was already standing at the door long before the bell rang. Anyway, who wants to be carried bridal style to the Principal's Office? Imagine what the tabloids will say when they catch wind of this entanglement. I can already picture students hanging out of their classrooms to take a photo of the next chapter of our 'love story.'

For a bunch of teenagers who are supposed to be knee-deep in quadratic equations, they have a lot of spare time. All the boys and girls practically escort me and my belongings back to the front row with their watchful eyes. As a result, I press my back against the chair, trying to shrink out of sight in everyone's clear view.

Brandon shakes his head, gently reclining in the black office chair. I force myself to focus on finishing the rest of my Algebra homework. I click my pen, thinking about all the times he saved me this week. The seventh stroke of ink paints a different picture, and I realize I'm addicted to feeling safe in his arms. When I'm with him I'm not afraid of anything. . .except the past.

After completing the rest of my weekend assignment I drop my pen next to my math worksheet. This push and pull is causing friction inside my mind, daring me to glance at the front of the classroom. I have a strong urge to look at Brandon. I push the overwhelming thought and my trembling legs to the back of my mind.

Contrary to popular belief, these back-and-forth stares and handwritten notes are taking their toll. I have never experienced anything like this before, so my lungs are desperately trying to catch up to another dose of Brandon. Even my hands shake harder than an emo kid's hair at a rock concert. Before I let my eyeballs explode by wandering too far away, I have to stop the rattling coming from my stomach.

It sounds like I ate the Lochness Monster.

Brandon surprises me by approaching the side of my desk. His right-hand rests on the back of my chair as he uses the other one to go over the rest of my work. His fingers trace a straight line from one bra strap to the other. I bite my bottom lip, scouting farther away from his touch. The eighth wave of Brandon reminds me how whenever he's close, I always short-circuit.

His shoulders tense as he carefully watches me under his long eyelashes. "I still can't believe you kissed me."

"It was a spur of the moment," I confess, tapping my fingers against the edge of the desk.

"I believe you," Brandon exhales, turning around to the rest of the class. "Your answers are right."

He walks away, and somehow, I'm left more perplexed than before I stepped foot in this classroom. First, his rejection turned into a cute note; then I was practically overflowing with his attention. Just now, I said kissing him was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, but anyone that's met me knows about my severe allergies.

I'm allergic to bullshit and the opposite sex in that exact order. I don't get boys there basically from another galaxy; how is it my fault I'm scared of aliens? I already faced my fears and climbed on my tiptoes this year, so what else am I supposed to do? Not to be a lady eggplant, but I'm starting to understand why guys mansplain their romantic endeavors.

Didn't I already do the equivalent of buying Brandon flowers? So when Valentine's Day rolls around am I expected to be broke a second time? People in love are even more confusing than Alexis trying to pick out a dress for a school dance. The guy shuts down all my advances, and now I'm expected to work even harder.

That's so sexist.

Of course, I shouldn't admit this but I've already stumbled across his excellence floating as a star in the daybreak. The ninth star defies all the laws of science when, out of a million conversations, he still thinks of me. But the tenth galaxy is dedicated to his heavenly scent, the absolute last reason I care to list today.

"Trouble in paradise?" Dalton beams.

I direct my eye roll to the next row. "Isn't it too early for the vultures to start circling?"

"I-I just w-wwant to know if you fell in l-llove with him b-bbefore or after the beach house?" Dalton stammers, wiggling his eyebrows to another insinuation.

In light of Dalton's lewd comment, he's not the first guy to assume I'm just trying to land spousal support for the next fifty years. On the other hand, Airheads have been answering their own sexual assumptions all day. The latest graphic discussion happened in the hallway this morning when the football team stopped me to inquire about my and get this 'head game.'

I'll save all the details because I'm a decent human being who is entirely more than the contents of my mouth. I felt so helpless standing there listening to Bruce's reasoning behind why a guy like Brandon would ever notice a retarded loser. Apparently, I have this hidden gift where my tongue can defuse a bomb, and of course, it took a few tries to convince Brandon.

Honestly, I felt like clocking those jerks upside the head, but it's not like I can assault everyone. It felt like he stabbed me in the gut and twisted the knife until he slowly pulled it out. Since when did being publicly rejected by the King of Ravenwood tricked me into being the school's concubine? Ever since that incident, I've been treading on pins and needles all day.

I carefully wait for the next shoe to drop so my inner self can finally release the breath I've been holding in. All the twists, turns, and screams of the day shattered and mended my heart in different ways. Is it so wrong to not take another step on the plank that's shaking under my feet? Should I leap forward into the unknown, or run into the arms of leisure.

Even when it's surrounded by nothing but darkness, should I still jump? If the world was ending I don't think I could willingly walk into the unknown. A person can only get knocked down so many times before they finally decide to stay where they belong. Maybe I'm making an excuse to give Brandon a list of ten reasons I can't go with him to Los Angeles. After all, the city of stars isn't meant for the girl who couldn't even find the courage to save her mother.

Twenty minutes pass as I'm still entangled in my thoughts. Brandon finishes explaining the last problem on the worksheet when the bell rings. It announces the day's final moments and simultaneously ushers in the weekend.

Surprisingly, Brandon allowed the students to crowd the entrance of the classroom before the bell ringed. As soon as the day officially ended, they were the first to run outside the room and blend in with the rest of the oncoming student body. Similar to the five second rule for dropped food they have to race out of the only classroom that brands everyone that exits a retard.

I stand up, tossing my new book bag over my shoulder. "Idiots," I mutter, laughing at their cowardice.

Before I can process anything else, Brandon does the unthinkable. He grabs my waist and pulls me into a tight embrace. I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, smelling his cologne ignite my nostrils in perfect bliss. After one hundred and two glorious seconds, Brandon finally interrupts the quiet with a gentle whisper. "Only forty-eight hours to show you the City of Angels. It doesn't seem like enough."