Something like me.
* * * *
After lunch came woodshop. Two hours of Darian in close quarters, either hovering around his table or glancing at him from across the room, Stacy loved it. He flirted shamelessly, both during and after class, and damned if Darian didn’t seem to flirt back. When the final bell rang and the other students rushed out, Stacy always stayed behind, sweeping up sawdust or straightening the safety equipment, anything for a few more minutes with Darian alone. He giggled a lot when it was just the two of them, like he did when he was high, and he smiled so much that by the time he was on the bus heading home, his cheeks hurt from grinning continuously and his entire body tingled with anticipation. He’d go over every word they exchanged in his mind, relive every touch, savor every glance and smile.