We finally part to breath. We both grin and get lost in each other’s eyes. I want to tell him I love him. The words will not come out.

“I…I…â€? I stutter. He looks at me in a waiting expression. Then the warning bell rings.
“I have to go to class.” I tell him. I start to walk away, but he takes my hand.
“You’re not getting away that easy.”

He spins me around and our lips touch one more time.

“See ya later?” He told me.
“Ya,” I said and went on my way.

I walk in just before the bell rings and find my spot in the back.

“Ok, today we are talking some more about American literature.” The teacher says.

“Can anyone tell me one American writer that they know of?”

The room stays silent

“Poe,” I say, doodling in my notebook.

Everyone turns to me. I look up.

“Edgar Allan Poe,” I say with a confident voice.