Untitled

"For a long, wonderful moment, their gazes lock and nothing else exists, but the blue of her eyes and the smell of her perfume (-- cloves and oranges and vanilla, with the barest hint of starlight and impossibilities --). In that moment, she is heavenly.

"But then she smiles at him, a smile that asks, 'What’s wrong?' and screams of platonic things like friendship and shared Skittles and two eleven-year-olds about to take on the world. He is reminded forcibly, painfully that they are JUST FRIENDS and she is OFF-LIMITS.

"She is still heavenly, but she is not for the likes of him."