I'd been in love with her for as long as I could remember but before that, she'd been my best friend and, essentially, a part of my family. Her parents had shipped her away to the Shilling School for the Gifted in Cincinnati, where my brother and I were attending. I was eight when I first laid eyes on her. The long silky black hair and those curious hazel eyes were enough to make a boy stop and consider the opposite sex. At that age, I hadn't known what it was that made her so appealing; other than her looks but as the years past and we both grew into adults, I found that we held a lot of the same ideologies about life. She was success driven as I was, and took family seriously, as did I-having grown up with just my mother. I figured the inevitable would happen and we'd somehow gravitate toward each other. She had to have known the torch I was carrying for her. It was in my eyes. My emotions always were, my mama used to say. She'd never seen it or if she had, she'd been a damn good actress.

I prayed to God every night for the opportunity to make this girl the center of my world. She'd never really noticed the depth of my feelings and I was way too shy to ever truly let her know how deeply they ran. She'd never been timid about letting others know how she felt, even when we were in school and the status quo called for demureness.

"Do you think your brother is cute?"

"What?" I asked from across the lunch table.

Rochelle tilted her head to one side and gave a half smirk. She'd known that the question would throw me off. Since eleventh grade last year, she'd discovered a knack and a fondness for shocking and confusing me to no end. I was beginning to understand what my Uncle Charlie had said about women just making you want to put a bullet through your head and end it all.

"I asked if you thought JD was cute," she tried to hide her smile.

I thought for a moment, considering the question and then raised a disgusted eyebrow. "Why would I even answer the question? He's my brother. That's sick."

"It's not like I'm asking you to go kiss--"

"Okay, whoa!" I held up both hands and scooted away from the table a little. "Don't even finish that sentence. This is getting just a little too weird for me." I ran a hand through my dark hair which I'd let grow since the summer because Rochelle had mentioned she'd liked guys with longer hair.

"Why are you asking me about James anyway?"

I nervously picked up my fork and poked at the turkey salad Mama had sent from home.

She shrugged and looked away sheepishly. "It was just a question. I mean, he's gotten taller and is finally growing facial hair...I just..."

Unconsciously, I touched my chin. I'd been shaving for almost two years and she'd never said a damn thing about my hair.

"Never mind," she waved the subject away and scooted closer, as if trying to tell me a secret. Her eyes darted over my shoulder for a split second before she smiled. "Don't look now, but Claire Ussery is checking you out."

My eyes widened and I turned slightly but Rochelle grabbed my chin. "Don't look, idiota. Didn't I just say that?"

I closed my eyes and prayed silently. "Is she coming over?" I whispered in distress. "Please say she's not coming over."

Claire had been following me since the beginning of the year. She was a freshman who had taken up stalking as her major past time. At first, I'd been flattered that someone was swooning over me for a change but then, it'd just turned down right creepy when I'd found her waiting for me outside of a bathroom stall.

How did anyone miss a skinny blond chick sneaking into the guy's restroom?

"Rochelle, is she comin--"

I stopped speaking when she stood and looked straight over my head; where I guessed Claire was sitting with the popular clique.

"Excuse me!"

Out of my periphery, I saw each blond head turn toward us and every blue eye glare.

I put my hands on my head and groaned. She always had to make a scene and that temper of hers was lethal. Her long hair swayed as she swiveled her neck which punctuated each of her words.

"Si, I'm talking to you." Her thick Puerto Rican accent always seemed to surface when she was annoyed or just plain angry. "Why are you staring at my boy?"

Her emphasis on the word ‘my' had my head shooting up. The entire lunchroom was silent, watching the quiet exchange between Claire and Rochelle. After a moment and a saucy glare at Claire, Rochelle sat down and the surrounding chatter commenced.

I sighed in relief. "Why did you do--"

"She's still looking, let's give her a show." She moved closer and reached her hand out for me. "C'mere."

I held my breath as her thumb ran slowly over my jaw and caressed the rough texture; due to a lack of shaving the day before.

"When'd you start growing a beard?" She asked softly, but I barely heard anything over the beating of my own heart.

The world completely fell away. It was just her and I in the entire universe.  I swallowed inaudibly and lifted my lids to catch a glimpse of her inquisitive gaze. Her breath tickled my skin. I knew this would be the moment I'd waited for since I was eight.

"Well...I-" I began to lean forward.

Only a few more inches and her lips would be on mine. I gulped and held my breath.

Just...a little closer...and--

The shrill ringing of the lunch bell broke through my serenity.

Rochelle groaned and pulled way, gathering her books "Damn it. They never give us enough time for lunch. You know, I could teach this Italian class in my sleep. It's ridiculous that they make me take..."

Her voice trailed off as she walked away. I barely noticed chairs scrape against the floor as students prepared to discard their lunches and return to the last class of the day.

I blinked, having forgotten where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. I sat where I was as Rochelle began to leave. When she noticed I wasn't following, she turned back to me and lifted an eyebrow.

"Jonathan. Italian class awaits us. Venire su, saremo tardi!"

We'd be late, she said. She was always worrying but no one would care. The two of us were the most studious upperclassmen at Schilling. We had more pull than the jocks with the teachers but thank goodness I also had an in with them, via my brother James.

"Hey, are you coming?"

Finally snapping out of my daze, I collected my books and followed. When I caught up with her, I swung my arm over her shoulder and gave her a lopsided grin.

"I'd follow you anywhere," I half joked.

She chuckled and let me escort her to class.

She'd never know the truth of my words. I had intended to follow her wherever she went; as Claire Ussery-esque as it sounded. At the time, I had no idea that she was oblivious to my feelings for her. I figured she'd been playing dumb this whole time.

But it was I who was fooling myself.

After twenty years, I should have seen something; known that I was the only one in this, but I always had an excuse for her. For me. For us. No, not us. There was no us. It'd all been in my head.

All in my damn head.