For an entire school year, the most handsome boy in our class saved the seat beside him for me. But whenever I tried to sit there, he would suddenly move his bag and say, “Sorry, someone is sitting here.” I was convinced he hated me. His name was Evander Cross. He was quiet, brilliant, and so handsome that girls invented excuses to borrow his notes. I had a ridiculous crush on him. Every morning, I'd arrive early, hoping he'd finally let me sit beside him. Every morning, he'd save the seat. And every morning, someone else would take it. One Friday, I got tired of the embarrassment. I walked into class, placed my bag on the empty seat beside him, and said, “Whoever you're saving this seat for can sit somewhere else. I'm tired of being rejected by a chair.” Evander stared at me. Then he started laughing. Really laughing. I'd never seen him smile like that. “Finally,” he said. I frowned. “Finally, what?” He reached into his notebook and showed me a list. It contained dates, each marked with a tiny heart. “Every day I saved that seat, I hoped you'd sit beside me without being invited.” I stared at him. “Why didn't you just ask me?” He looked embarrassed. “Because you're the girl I've liked since the first day of school, and apparently I'm terrible at being normal around you.” My heart nearly stopped. “You like me?” He nodded. I sat beside him. “Then why did you keep letting other people take the seat?” His smile faded slightly. “Because I was afraid you'd discover something about me.” I swallowed. “What?” He looked directly into my eyes. “I wasn't saving the seat for you.” I felt my heart drop. Then he smiled. “I was saving it for the girl I hoped would become my girlfriend.”