How can it be that my head is hollow yet overflowing? It's a black hole of useless information. The quadratic formula, the way his wavy hair falls perfectly and frames his face. Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, the way his blue eyes intensely follow anything worth noticing. The big bang theory, the way his shoulders arch forward just enough it's noticeable but doesn't make anyone uncomfortable. I stuff my head full of distractions, but I have a safe locked away in the far corners and once I allow myself to open it, it explodes.
"Wake up!" My mom is yelling from the basement. I glance at my clock. 7:28. Two minutes before my alarm goes off. It's like she pulls my precious sleep right out from underneath me. I groan and roll over to face the ceiling. Every time he pops up in my thoughts, the safe gets shut tighter and tighter. Footsteps cause the boards in the stairs to creak. "You getting up?" She questions. One minute before my alarm. I dismiss her with my hand. An idea pops into my brain and I feel my heart start to race. Today is the first day of school. I get to see him again. For the first time since school got out. In person. My palms are already sweaty. My alarm goes off.