I honestly thought ignoring him would work, but apparently, he just wouldn't quit. And apparently, he never knew when to give up.

It's annoying how he smiles like I was anything but rude to him, like he just met me for the first time and he's still giving me that sweet, introductory smile of his. It pisses me off how he pays so much attention to every word that I say, as if everything that comes out of my mouth even matters, even the constant lazy mumbling that annoys the hell out of every person I know. He finds significance in every little thing that I do, and pleasure in knowing bits of things about me. I wonder how this guy's mind works, or even if it does, for that matter.

He knows that I kind of like the class president, and that I don't really care at the same time. He should know; I've told him many times to stay out of it because it's none of his business. And besides, I emphasized, I don't really give a damn. He gave me that goofy smile of his, and I just wanted to wipe that smile off of his pretty face and shove it right into his throat.

Every day, he'd ask the same question: "Do you still like him?" I would punch him in the face and he'd laugh. It's a yes then, he'd say. But I don't really know. Maybe, but I can't really say. And I can't really think. Because his annoying smile would distract me and my knuckles would be itching to punch him again. And so the question would again be shoved at the back of my mind, completely forgotten. It's the same every single day; I have no idea how he keeps his face free of all those bruises my punches should've inflicted on it.

And when we found out that the class president likes another girl, his face was right before me again, with that annoying smile and eyes that seem to mock me, as if saying, 'You know you're mad, so come on and punch me in the face, hard!' and he just sat there, looking at me like he knew what I was thinking.

Oh, he sure did. "I heard the class pres is in love."

"I know."

"But not with you."

"Who cares?"

"You do, stupid."

I looked up to his eyes, not because he called me stupid, but because as he stared at me with those eyes that held a thousand words, he was still smiling.

And for the first time, I didn't want to erase that smile off of his face.

For the first time, I admitted that it wasn't so bad.

It's always like this, it's always so annoying. It's like he can read my mind just by looking into my eyes. Always.

It's his thing.