Our gazes battled with each other. The silence began to grow thick with every second that ticked away.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from his and struggled to grab my notepad from my backpack. As every bit of confidence melted away from me, my notepad fell out of my hands and landed on the tiled floor with a thud.

There was no doubt that I probably looked undeniably ridiculous standing there in front of him, my weakness radiating from my body. I truly wanted to melt into the floor and flatten into cement so I could match the dull green and white tiles beneath me. I helplessly stared at my notepad now sadly laying on the ground, the first purposely empty page ripped halfway off.

I didn't want to bend down to grab it. Could I get even more pathetic? Since there was no other option I could choose, I bent down slowly, reaching for my notepad that I now noticed had powdery dirt from the floor dusted across the ripped page. Mr. Lee's hand reached for it at the same time.

Both our fingers were now lightly touching the ugly notepad and it took all my might to not slit my throat right then and there. The embarrassment my body was experiencing was at its' highest notch, the evidence as clear as day, due to the fact that my cheeks were burning up and probably looked like tomatoes. My fingers let go of the notepad, which was out of my control completely because it felt as if my whole body was from a different planet.

"Sorry," he said as he grabbed the notepad more firmly. He stood up slowly and I copied his actions while the expression on my face was completely blank.

"Here you go," he said awkwardly, handing me the notepad and giving me a tight smile. His finger brushed against mine and I physically touched my jaw to keep it from dropping.

Now that I had the notepad, I could continue what I was doing before I interrupted my own plan. I grabbed the pen out of my jean pocket, flipped to a new page, and began to gently write.

I thought I would be a bother.

I slowly turned the notepad around so I could show him. He moved his face a little closer to the notepad, his eyes trailing after every word my pen possessed. He ran a hand through his curly hair and I found myself staring in awe at how thick and smooth it must feel. Thankfully being in control of myself, I focused my attention on the notepad I was holding.

"You're not a bother at all," he said quietly. "Come on." He gestured again at the classroom.

I nodded shyly and watched him enter his own classroom. His aroma of pure mint invisibly clouded around me for a few seconds, until it faded and I finally collected myself. I ripped the stupid first page of my notepad off, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into the depths of my backpack. I silently hoped something as embarrassing as that would never happen again.

I entered his classroom and picked my usual seat in the back, but the fact that the whole classroom was empty and two of the three hanging lights were off caused me to feel too far away from him. Not that it mattered, anyways. I'd be sleeping, right?

It had to be today that sleep would not blanket me. My elbows blocked my view from him as I lay face down on the desk, darkness and the smell of Windex my only senses. If it hadn't been for Mr. Lee looking as beautiful as the moon in the daylight, I could have easily fallen asleep. However, his presence was enough to make my heart stop.

I laid with my head on the desk, the sound of papers being flipped through and shoved to the back of other piles being an oddly comfortable rhythm.

After ten minutes of my neck hurting from being in such an awkward position, I lifted my head and looked around to a room that looked just like the way I left it. I sighed and rested my chin on my hand propped by my elbow.

"Can't sleep?" He asked calmly without looking up from the book he was reading.

I instantly panicked. If I nodded my head and he didn't look up to acknowledge my response, I would have to speak. The heat flushed to my cheeks and my heart began to thump so loud that it felt as if I could literally hear it from my ears.

Instead, his eyes swiveled to mine and I let out an unnoticeable breath. I nodded to show that yes, I could not sleep.

"You know what I do when I can't sleep?" He asked, taking off his glasses and placing them on top of the novel in front of him. His oceanic eyes studied me.

"I listen to music," he continued, now looking back down at the novel as he spoke. "Instrumental music. Similar to music people meditate to, but except with more of an atmospheric mood. Would you like me to turn it on from my smart-board for you?"

I excitedly nodded, maybe even a bit too excited. I heard him chuckle deeply as he stood up and turned around to face the smart-board, his fingers swiping from left to right as he pulled up a music playlist with words I couldn't see from where I was sitting.

The fact that he was showing me this was truly prodigious. Many say that music represents emotions. Some individuals have a deep connection with specific songs. This man clearly had depth and the fact that he was so interesting made me abruptly smile to myself. I hid my smile by covering my mouth with my hand, thanking the heavens that he did not see that. I would have died of embarrassment, not that I haven't already.

Instantly music played from the board, a soft tune with background sounds of waves crashing in the distance. It sounded like wind was blowing, and then an acoustic guitar began to effortlessly strum. After a few minutes of relaxing bliss, the song advanced to an even more atmospheric tone. I've never heard something so enchanting and angelic before.

I quickly grabbed my notepad from my backpack and briskly scribbled on my notepad.

What song is this? I must know.

I grabbed it and walked down the aisle of desks, my anxiety for once not stopping me from doing something. With the heavenly music playing, I felt like I could walk on water.

I practically flew up to his desk as he lifted his head from his novel, an enticing smile with straight square teeth presenting itself from his consummately-shaped lips.

I showed him my notepad, my eyes set on his own and trailing down to his lips. He looked up at me and I quickly focused back on his eyes, already feeling my cheeks light with invisible fire as it does just about every day from him.

"It's called For Years And Years by Helios." He smiled knowingly. "I can see that you like it." He chuckled. "You look like you've experienced a sudden lucidity with yourself. Your whole face is lit up."

I smiled and looked down at my Converse, the heat for the fifty-billionth time igniting my face with a blush.

"You don't have to shy away all the time," he uttered softly as the song continued to beautifully play on in the background.

It's hard to have confidence when you're so disgustingly different from everyone, I wrote. I turned it around and showed him, loving the way his eyes followed every curve of my letters.

"You think you're disgustingly different?" He asked, his body now facing towards me. He put down his novel and glasses and swerved his chair towards me.

I nodded sedately. He shook his head disapprovingly. "If only you knew." He said it so faintly, as if it weren't meant to be heard.

A strand of hair fell in front of my face, and my body went still when I watched with my own eyes as his hand reached out towards my hair. His two fingers caressed the blond and brown strip of hair, and as gently as ever, more ghostly even, he placed it back behind my ear.

His finger swiped against the side of my cheek and I instantly felt like I was going to pass out from the shock of it. His fingers sent a wire of lust throughout my body, something I had never really felt before. I let my eyelids fall shut, but when I opened them back up, Mr. Lee had removed his hand and was now moving his chair back so it pointed at his desk.

I hastily disseminated back to my seat and sat down. When I looked over at him, he had his head in his hands, his hair in chaotic thick curls from a recent hand that had been through it habitually.

I gently pressed my finger against my own cheek, lightly tracing where he had touched it, for I knew the exact spot because it felt like his finger-tips had burned a path.

The music continued to play, but both Mr. Lee and I weren't in much of a mood for it anymore. Neither of us could look at each other, and I came to realize that I wanted to trace his cheek the way he had traced mine.