Come on, Scott, you can do this! That's the twelfth time you've told yourself this within the past five minutes. As your wise author, all I can say is that you are truly a lost cause.
It's the final period of the day, Tech, and you're fidgeting anxiously as you try to work up enough courage to ask a simple question. Well, it's not really so simple if you consider the main factor:
Vincent.
He's sitting across from you now, complete zoned out and absently chewing on the end of his pencil. His sloppy ponytail hangs limply over one shoulder, and loose wisps of his bangs brush his face. His eyes are half-lidded and distant, and-
He's looking at me! You break into a nervous grin as you realise that he saw you staring just now. You've been caught redhanded. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit…
Vincent chuckles, quirking an eyebrow. "You okay, dude?"
"Uhhhh, y-yeah!" you say. Fuck! That sounded stupid, fix that! "I mean, yeah, I'm okay. No big deal!" No no no, what was that? What was that voice crack?! Great! Way to blow it, loser!
Vincent just laughs at your failings and looks back to his book. "You're so weird," he tells you.
"Y-yeah, heh, I am!"
...you are going to slap yourself the second you get home. That was possibly the dumbest thing you've ever said! To be fair, you've said a lot of dumb things, but this is truly the dumbest thing yet.
I'll ask him tomorrow... you tell yourself, sighing.
You told yourself that yesterday, too.