As we sat on the couch, I gazed into his eyes. I could see so many different emotions flowing through them; I couldn't name all of them if I tried. I couldn't stop the rush of guilt I felt. He loved and cared for me so deeply and I didn't return the feelings. Couldn't return the feelings. Sometimes I felt like I could love him, but even so I don't think it could ever be possible for me to love him as sincerely as he loves me. I turn my eyes from his bright blue ones down to the book we're suppose to be working on trying to remove the thoughts going through my mind. It doesn't work. I can't help thinking of how sweet he is and how hard he loves, not only me, but all his friends and family. I watch his elegant hands draw beautifully within our book and suddenly have the desire for this hands to be on me. I realize with a sudden shock that I enjoy when he holds my hand and caresses my face with his soft fingers. I have the urge to run, sprint as fast as i can, out to the woods and hide. These feelings aren't ok, they lead to pain, I've come to except this. But he does something to me, something I'm not sure I know the word for. It's not love, no most definitely not, but I think it's along those lines. I turn my eyes from his drawing back to his face and starting from the tips of his hair, I search his face, examining each feeling that comes along with each movement of my eyes. He's beautiful. I never thought I'd use that word to describe a boy but with him, it just fits. His eye lashes flow and give off a glittery tent, his nose is rounded to perfection, with just enough of a point, his checks, soft and narrow, his chin, smoothly shaven and yet ruff all the same, his hair flows majestically even without a breeze and the color shines like gold. I hadn't noticed that he had turned away from the book to look at me memorizing him until my name passes through his lips in a worried tone. I stare back at his baby blue eyes, him having gained my attention, only to notice that he's leaning in. Normally, with us not being in front of a camera, I would've backed up, but, for some unknown reason, I leaned towards him, meeting his lips with mine. It was one of our more innocent kisses, and yet it felt the most real. After a few seconds he pulled away, and feeling upset at the lack of pressure on my lips and wanting him to continue, I discovered the word I had been looking for. Lust.