Even though I knew he would never like me, I didn't think of much else of the next week. I did all the normal things, go to the gym, go to see Mrs Leighton, spend time with my mum, do a bit of sixth form prep, but in the times when I stopped, and had nothing to do, thats when my thoughts turned back to him. The way he picked up the book, the way his curly, dark hair slowly moved, and how he moved it back off his face. He must be a bit older than me for sure, but maybe only by a couple of years. Times I was convinced to go back and see him, and others I was scared to leave the house incase he saw me. Mrs Leighton had instantly noticed I was distracted and put it straight down to a boy. How she ever knew, I will never know. When I woke up on Wednesday morning, a morning I go to see Mrs Leighton, I felt different. Okay, I looked different, loads different. I looked healthier, but I felt happy finally, even though I knew I could never have that boy. I got up and dressed, and walked my way to Mrs Leightons house, which i now knew like the back of my hand. Her house was more like a cottage, tucked away in an almost non-existent village behind my old school. It was a very pretty cottage, with climbing ivy up one wall, and a massive rose bush, with was difficult, which I found out the hard way last week. As I walk into the door, I hear a massive amount of laughter, happy laughter, like happy little bumble bee's. As I walk threw the door to see who is Mrs Leighton's funny guest, my heart sinks into the core of the earth. He is there.