It wasn't a crush.
Of that much she was absolutely sure.
Okay, so her heart had sort of stopped that hot September day when she had walked into the chemistry lab and first caught sight of him. And sure, every time he called on her (which was often) a strange sort of warmth began to rise up in her chest.
But it wasn't a crush.
Definitely not.
And if she found herself rushing to get to his class early and staying a bit late to clean the beakers, that was just because she was helpful, not because the teacher was cute and smart and sweet.
He was not cute.
Definitely not cute.
And if it just so happened that her favorite math book was soon replaced by a chemistry book, well, that was just because she was ready for a change or pace. Right?
It wasn't a crush.
Period. End of story.
It was stupid, really.
It took three years for her to come to terms with the fact that okay, maybe it had been a crush.
As the reality of the situation faded, and was more and more replaced with fond memories of explosions and benson burners, she accepted the fact that no one else had ever made her feel so giddy, so silly.
So stupid.
She blamed it entirely on the fact that she had been 13 and 98% hormones.
But it was stupid, none the less.
And yet, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to be mad. All she could do was smile when no one was looking and try not to babble too much about chemical equations.
Apparently, she was still stupid.
Years later, she saw him at a conference.
They were colleagues this time. No longer teacher and student, but equals in the field of science.
The weight of her engagement ring on her finger was a constant reminder that she had moved on, that they were nothing more than peers now, and yet she still couldn't keep the smile off her face.
"You probably don't remember me, Mr. Stevens, but my name is Skye Penderwick and I was in your 7th grade chemistry class."
And no one will ever know that I had a horrible crush on you…
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