I Tried to Help Him Out

It was a hard fail

Photo by Paul Castanié on Unsplash

I was in high school. He was in my home room. He had a crush on me.

I was the last one to realize it, as usual. I’ve always apparently had a bit of the absent-minded professor air. I’m sorta clueless when it comes to social interactions.

So how did I finally figure out that this guy liked me?

He decided to serenade me in class.

I was sitting there, minding my own business, when suddenly he is standing in front of me, singing a pretty love song.

I was embarrassed, and apparently blushing — a neat trick when you’re not white, but that just shows how embarrassed I felt.

At the same time, though — I had to give him kudos. I figured, anyone who had the nerve to do that in front of 30 of his peers and a bemused educator might be a guy worth getting to know.

Besides which, he had a pleasant baritone voice. And, for the first time, I noticed little things about him which were sorta attractive.

So I decided to try to get to know him better.

I figured — if he was willing to make a fool of himself for me, the least I could do was have a conversation with him. It was my way of making an effort.