School seems so different today. It seems happier, or maybe that’s just me. I hate school. I hate it with a vengeance. The only time I’m happy here is lunch and English Lit. The two places I can see her.

But today? Today I am so happy it’s sickening. And I can see the reason for my happiness walking down the hallway right now.

She looks happier too, she is glowing, laughing real, not fake like she usually does, smiling genuinely, and she has a bounce in her step.

Until he meets up with her. Then it’s all fake again.

I sit by my tree, I have a free period, and I watch her again. She has just finished cheer practice, she has this period free also, but she never comes outside, this is a first for her.

The sun is shining down on her, little bit of light bouncing off of her. A spotlight picking her out from the crowd.

She looks my way, all laughing, all smiling stops as she looks. I hope she doesn’t regret Saturday night. Maybe it’s not because of her silent confession that she is happy. Maybe yesterday when she was at home, or out with Aiden or whatever she was doing she realised she made a mistake.

There are more ways than one to be free.

A small smile and wink in my direction before she turns back around did more than enough to convince me that she doesn’t regret it, that she meant everything she did. That she is still meeting me today.

Have I mentioned the number eight is my favourite number? Well it is. On my eighth birthday my mum actually said the words ‘I love you’. I was also eight when my dad took me to his first concert. It took me eight days to learn how to snowboard properly, by myself. I was in lane eight when I won a track race. And now, now it’s eight months later I’m about to talk to Spencer Carlin. It also took me only eight weeks and eight days to fall completely in love with her.

And man do I remember the day I did perfectly.