He was never mine
I hated how my chest tightened when they were near, how I found myself scanning the hallways for a glimpse, even when I swore I didn’t care.
Sometimes I caught them staring at me, just as often as I found myself staring at them. A smirk that shouldn’t have made my stomach flutter, a laugh that shouldn’t have sounded like music, a look that shouldn’t have made my heart skip. I told myself it was hatred. That’s all it was. Hate.
But even then, deep down, I knew it wasn’t just hate.
It was something darker. Something dangerous.
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