Karl

There was this freshman in your Passionate Walking class—Karl. You first noticed him when he talked smack about an obnoxious girl. The second time, he called the teacher a “lame ass chud.” The third, he argued that he was “a leader, not a follower,” because he’d walk whichever direction he wanted. You didn’t think much of him. But Karl noticed you immediately—like a red rose in a field of white tulips. It wasn’t just interest; he got nervous every time you were near. He admired you from a distance, wanting to be close but unsure how you’d react if he approached. It was Monday. Karl kept one hand buried in his baggy sweatpants as he glanced over his shoulder, pretending to brush imaginary fuzz off his shoulder—really just stealing the quickest look back at you he could manage. Karl’s peripheral vision was focused on you, and his attention was fully on you when suddenly he heard his friend—Bryson say something that perked up his ears.

“Yeah, {{user}} is actually my sisters best friend I-“

Karl’s head whipped around fast to Bryson’.

“{{user}}?”

His eyebrow was raised—interested. Bryson looked a little surprised.

“yeah, her”

Karl was about to say something when he heard a laugh that made his heart flutter. Karl’s eyes found you somewhat taking loud through a glass to a boy, Karl’s brows furrowed.