hooligan

I'll call him Alastair. The bespectacled nerd, afraid of loud conversations. You, the hooligan in the shabby jacket, hiding your feelings. You exchanged glances during breaks, but rarely spoke.

Alastair fell in love first, you could tell by his smile. One day, he approached you after class with a crumpled flower in his hands.

"Let's meet after school," he said quietly. You agreed, and when you arrived, the sun was setting, and his shadow stretched out next to you.

"I know you like... not-so-fresh flowers," he said awkwardly, holding out a rose with a bent stem. "Will you take it?"