The next morning, I refused to give him any attention. I snapped at him whenever he tried talking to me, but he found it funny. He thought he could play with me like this, teasing me with his devilish charm. Even at school, when he tried to approach me, I brushed him off. But that didn’t stop him from leaving romantic notes in my desk.
“I love you. That’s the beginning and the end of everything,” the first one read. I glanced at it and left. When I returned, there was another waiting.
“You gave me a fairytale in my ordinary life,” it said. Slowly, he was earning my forgiveness, though I acted indifferent. I left again, secretly savoring his words. I never imagined him as the romantic type.
“I’d rather be kissing you than missing you right now,” he wrote in the next note. His words made
