There’s a girl.
She’s in my class.
Sits in the fourth row, the third from the left.
She’s a supermodel.
And she laughs.
And she smiles.
She smiles that million dollar smile.
A straight white set alignment of teeth, hidden behind scintillating cherry red lips.
There’s a girl.
She’s in my class.
Sits in the third row, the fourth from the right.
She’s a tomboy – my best friend.
And she sits.
And she dreams.
And she waits.
Waits for that particular someone to sweep her off her feet.
And then there’s me.
Sitting in the fifth row, the fourth from the left.
I’m just a basketball player.
I wish.
I want.
I lose.
YOU ARE READING
Million Dollar Smile
Teen FictionHere's a thing about love triangles: someone always gets hurt.