Miles Hollingsworth III has an impossible grin. This, Tristan Milligan, knew was the only thing he learned in an entire hour of chemistry class. He looked down at his notebook, filled with sketches of that smile, not quite matching the one that kept jumping to the surface of Miles face. He turned to a new, blank page.
Hypothesis: If I look at Miles and Miles smiles, then I am making Miles smile.
Test: Look at Miles.
Tristan looked up slowly from his notebook and found the perfect head of hair six feet from him. He only had to wait four seconds when Miles put his pencil down and sat up straight on his lab stool. Two seconds later Miles' gaze found Tristan's for what felt like the thousandth time that class. Then there it was, that grin found its way to his face and then became a wide smile flashing his whiter than snow teeth. Tristan's insides turned to mush. He blushed then dropped his head and immediately picked up his pencil.
Observations: Miles smile makes me melt.
He put his pencil back down and tried to pay attention to the lecture on acids and bases, but after just twenty seconds his gaze drifted back to Miles, ready for some more low-grade flirting.
But Miles was already smiling, in fact, it looked like he was trying to keep a laugh silent. It felt like Miles was looking through Tristan. Confused, Tristan barely turned to look at what was behind him. His heart sank. Winston was sitting at the lab bench behind him with two pencils stuck up his nose. Tristan turned back around, devastated. "Really?" he muttered.
"Yes, really. Bases accept protons, Mr. Milligan," the teacher had heard him. Now the whole class was looking at him and Miles' smile had disappeared. He just looked bored that the teacher was actually paying attention to his students now.
Tristan straightened up in his chair. "Right," he said to Ms. Badger, "I'll write that down." Then Tristan added a line to his observations.
Miles likes Winston's dumb boy humor.
The bell rang and Miles was out the door before Tristan could put his books away.