Sometimes I look over from my till, behind the desk serving pasties, and I look at how the sunlight that comes in through the canteen windows glistens on his golden hair.
Sometimes when he comes over and asks for the usual –cheese and ham pasty with a diet coke – I gaze into his piercing blue eyes for a second and wish he was asking me to go out with him.
Sometimes when he gives me a quick hug in the corridors before rushing off to dance class, I want to hold on just that little bit more, just want to keep my hands wrapped around his skinny yet gorgeous frame.
When see him dancing with other girls, gorgeous girls – like Lola – a wave of jealousy flows over me. And I pretend that he's my boyfriend and that I'm allowed to be jealous of who he dances with.
Sometimes when I go to bed, I wrap my duvet around me and wish that it was him wrapping his arms around me, kissing my neck and brushing my fringe out of my eyes.
Sometimes when I'm on the roof of the school cleaning up, I lie down and gaze at the stars; I lie and wish it was you lying next to me. I wish it was all you, sometimes I wish it was you wishing for me too.