“It is defiantly an acute angle.”

My mechanical pencil bounces against my spiral notebook thirty times a minute. Once every two seconds- each time the clock’s second handle clicks loudly. Only 246 seconds until the class ends. I will bounce my pencil 123 times before the bell.

“What?” It takes him less than 2.456 seconds to turn his head 90 degrees to look at me.

My heart goes from 75 beats a minute to 87. How can he make my numbers increase by the sound of his voice? It is maddening.

I blush. “Nothing. I was just thinking aloud.”

The distance diminishes to 12 inches between my shoulder and his arm. This is not good. I need at least 48 inches of a void. This is too close. What if my hands start to sweat? What if my breath smells like that meatloaf I had for lunch? Would it still smell like that after 2.50 hours after eating? Oh, heavens he is moving closer.

He doesn’t seem to notice we are only 10 inches apart. “What are you thinking?”

I look up at the head of the class. The teacher is lounging in his chair and reading. Everyone is just texting on their phones. We had finished class early after a pop quiz. My teacher didn’t care if we were talking. He couldn’t save me.

My eyes turn back to him. Two stray hairs drape across his forehead. He is still looking at me. There must be a law somewhere against a person being this sexy in a polo shirt.

“Well?” He tucks his chin into his palm and waits expectantly.

“Just…your nose…” I mutter lamely. Why am I blinking ten times every five seconds?

“My nose?” his eyebrows furrow, creating three thoughtful lines on his brow. Dang. How can someone have such attractive eyebrows?

“It is…an nice angle…it is a…cute angle.” I’ve reached 95 beats a minute now.

I clutch at my jeans and bow my head. My hair shields 80% of my view, but he is only 6 inches from me now. I can feel his body’s heat. His breath gently blows my hair.

He doesn’t say anything. Not for 7.34 seconds. It is hot under my hair because I am blushing even harder now. The temperature must’ve increased by three degrees, at least.

Someone please shoot me now! Let an earthquake hit the school or a tornado I am not picky. Oh my gosh, how has only 90 seconds passed? I still have 156 more to go before the bell rings.

He reaches over and pushes 30% of my hair behind my ear. I look up into his face. My heart rate is now 113 beats a minute.

He smiles.

One hundred nineteen beats.