Luke walked over to you and recited what he was going to say in his head. He did that a lot; the repeating thing, not the talking thing. “Wanna come see my band on Friday?” “I’m in a band and we’re pretty good… wanna see them on Friday?” “Hey, I know we don’t talk but you’re in my Math class and you sit in front of me and your hair is really pretty and you only ever turn around to hand me back papers but my band is doing a thing on Friday….” he didn’t know how to word his thoughts without sounding either conceited, creepy, or rude. Around his friends he was outgoing; he made jokes and did stupid things in public with them but when he saw you, his voice would hitch in his throat and his fingers would tremble a little and he’d feel an itch growing in the back of his neck which he was afraid to scratch because he couldn’t remember if he put on deodorant that morning. For months he had put off talking to you other than just small talk, but today he knew he had to, clearing his throat and ignoring the itch on his neck.